Glassport, Pennsylvania 

---

Sammy Blows His Whistle

For more than twenty years I have watched "Sammy Blow His Whistle" in the court rooms, the legislative halls and in the field of sports, always in the interests of justice and fair play.

Pennsylvanians are very proud of the achievements of Judge Samuel A. Weiss. The story of his life as told in this book is the story of an immigrant boy who made the most of the opportunities he found here in his beloved land of adoption.

Readers, both young and old, will find a real inspiration in the chapters of this factual story.

Always within me there has been a cry and a force, seemingly deep inside me, wanting expression, wanting out. You can hear it in Bloch's "Schelmo," rising and swelling like the pulse of youth. I seem to have been hearing it all my life, and it has been both a whip and a melody. Yet what I have done, I have done eagerly.

Up and down the playing fields, running bases for scores, tossing baskets, passing examinations, reading books, bending over law volumes for skull-splitting hours-these things I did during the unforgettable, the ivy years of college and law school with that cry in my ears. Later I heard the same insistent Lorelei in the legislative halls of my State, in Congress, and even on the bench. It has been part of the roaring crowds of football stadia.

Sometimes it would be deep like the heart itself, meaningful as life; solemn as the thoughts I knew when the choir sang "Eli, Eli," as I stood with my father, and all the centuries of ancestors before me seemed to live again in my being, demanding expression.

Again, on other occasions, I would be glad in heart as if the days were all one grand Purim. Or I would be sad as any lament by the women of Jerusalem; sorrowful in a world of troubled people whom my frenzied efforts seemed to be helping so little. All this has served to make me understand that I am not important, just as no man is important unless he bends his efforts to help his fellow man. I came early to understand that life is, in all truth, "too brief to be little." I am no stranger to the knowledge that the love and possession of a family is the greatest reward this earth has to offer. It is equaled, if at all, only by the simple gratitude of little people who have been helped and who may weep unashamedly in saying so, or gruff and inarticulate, shake your hand with an extra tight squeeze more eloquent than the polished lines of any poem. Above all, I have learned this much of human wisdom, that there is "no dignity of man without faith in God."

This "whistle symphony" of mine, if you will, has had its lighter and its darker moments. In the playing it has not been free of some discord which, as always, is due to human frailty. I shall be supremely happy if I can continue to meet the human heart as I have known it in the past. It beats with such a satisfying resolution, and for all men it is the same.

For over twenty years I have known Leonard H. Marks, a young lawyer of outstanding reputation, now practicing in Washington, D. C., who has shared my confidences. His constant cooperation with George Kelly and the publisher was a big factor in getting me "to confess all."

This is the story of a modern David who has gone stalking through the world blowing his whistle every time he sees an "offside play."

No matter what one thinks about the ancient David and Goliath fracas, this little man has laid low many a modern Goliath. Of course, he has not been content simply to "blow the man down." That is not the Sammy Weiss technique. His whistle merely stops them in their tracks. What happens then is a combination of vocabulary, guts, brains, and circumstance.

To analyze Sammy Weiss is much like analyzing an explosion. You have to reconstruct what happens immediately after the detonation. While there is some exaggeration in the foregoing statement, no one who knows Sammy will deny that his quieter moments would serve other me nas periods of violent exercise.

A graph of Judge Sammy's career to date would look like the upward arc of a Fourth of July rocket. Unlike many another meteor, he has stayed up and will continue to do so because of his tireless interest in the welfare of his fellow human beings. He has combined a talent and love of the law with the heart of a country doctor and the soul of an old-fashioned good neighbor.

Judge Sammy has one rule on the bench or on the playing field to call them as he sees them.

The story of Sammy Weiss could have been told best by three men who will never again tell any tale. These men were Sammy's father, Isadore Weiss; his pal, Attorney Martin A. Flanagan, and his Law School Dean, John E. Laughlin. I have tried to tell Sammy Weiss' story as they would have it told. Grateful acknowledgment is made to Peggy Duffy for assistance in editing the manuscript, and to Miss Margaret Miller for secretarial aid.

GEORGE E. KELLY

Chapter 1 Whistle Symphony

Chapter 2 Sammy Rode the Bummer

Chapter 3 Young Man With a Client

Chapter 4 Politics? Not Me!

Chapter 5 Sammy Goes to Washington

Chapter 6 Sandlot Generals

Chapter 7 The Battle with Rankin

Chapter 8 He Whistles While He Works

Chapter 9 Later Than He Knew

Chapter 10 Sammy Sees the Pope
 

Anyone who has been around at all or studied geography knows that the world is a pretty big place in which many things happen each day.

On April 15, 1902, things were happening as on every other day. There were events big and little. On the high seas the North German Lloyd liner, Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, was steaming toward New York Harbor for a new Atlantic crossing record. English housewives were talking about Parliament's new "bread tax." In the White House at Washington, D. C., America's first Roosevelt was showing the nation what he meant by "the strenuous life." Business was beginning to think his attitude toward the trusts was a little too vigorous. Barber shop quartets were accompanying all this with the plaintive chant that "Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder."

Aboard the North German Lloyd liner, as it approached New York, Germany's Baron von Oppenheim told fellow passengers he was eager to visit the United States so that he might learn "why Americans do things so much better than anyone else." At the same moment in Krotowocz, Poland Johnik Runskwiecz had no such curiosity. Johnik was a busy man. If you had walked into his little shop at about this time, you would have found him putting a fine assortment of cookies into the hot oven from which large round loaves of bread recently had come.

Johnik sold no bread to the world outside Krotowocz and took little or no interest in any chance news of what was happening beyond the next town. One important exception to this was news from over the Russian border, which seemed to change almost as often as the seasons. Even this news had to be brought to him. Johnik never sought it. He had no need to. There was, for example, Mrs. Bronka Nossky, who was just now hurrying into the shop. Mrs. Nossky would surely ask him for bread first and then rattle off the latest happenings among the neighbors, thoroughly enjoying her own recital.

This time she really surprised him. She must, at the very latest, have seen a miracle.

"Johnik," she cried, "I have wonderful news!"

"And when do you not? " asked Johnik, turning from the exacting task of changing rich batter and nutmeats into cookies.

"But I have, Johnik. There is a son now with Mrs. Weiss!"

"Now, that is good news, Bronka," he said with real pleasure. "A fine boy, eh? If only our friend Israel were here with us. Poor man. I wonder if he will ever know."

"Oh, but yes, Johnik, yes. I told you I had such good news. He will know in time. Israel Weiss is in America."

" In America! But how do you know, Bronka ? Are your sure?"

Little Mrs. Nossky was delighted with the effect her tidings had produced on Johnik. He had already put a thoughtless hand in the cookie batter.

"Such curiosity, Johnik!" she teased him.

"This is not gossip, Bronka. This is news of my friends. Such very good news. When Israel went away I was afraid we would hear no more of him. Sometimes men who flee the pogroms have a way of disappearing. Not all of them get through. But this is good. Let us thank God for the help He has given our dear friends."

"Oh, yes," she said gravely, "I know. Soon now a letter can go out to America telling Israel he is the father of a son. And, Johnik, you would have tears in your eyes to see her and hear what she has to say."

"When I came in today she held him out to me. 'Bronka' she cried, `ever since I knew his father was safe in America, I have prayed that my son will have the same thing in his heart.'

"And when I asked her what she wanted him to have in his heart, she said `America. It is such a lovely word. So great a country. And it has been good to his father.' "

"I don't know much about America," Johnik said simply. "But it must be a wonderful land for little people like us."

"You and I will never know," Bronka told him. "But I hope that Sammy does."

Through the open door they watched a cart pull slowly through the mud.

Each seemed lost in thought. Then she brightened. "And now, Johnik," she asked with a smile, "will you give me my bread or must I tell you some more good news?"

"It must be as good as the last, if you do." He handed her a loaf which she quickly wrapped in her shawl.

"Well, I noticed that the little fellow stopped crying when the train blew its whistle going through the valley. That must surely mean he will travel."

Johnik considered this observation after the manner of a practical man. When he spoke he seemed pleased with his conclusion: "Maybe he just likes whistles."

So it was that news spread in Krotowocz, Poland, that Sadie Weiss was doubly blessed that day. For had she not heard of her husband's safe arrival in America, almost at the same time her first child, a son, was born? Indeed, this news had not lost all its wonder a year later when Sadie Weiss said goodbye to Bronka and to Johnik and the crowd of neighbors. While Sammy exercised his lungs lustily, mother and child boarded the train.

What happened in the years ahead is a significant aspect of Americana.

We know that Sadie Weiss took her infant son to the new Borough of Glassport in Pennsylvania, about eighteen miles west of Pittsburgh. Their arrival seems to have been the first occasion on record when Sammy Weiss put in an appearance at the scene of a newsworthy controversy. It must have established a pattern for his later years. From that day forward it has been possible to locate Sammy at any time simply by looking for the most excitement, the largest crowd or the biggest controversy. This appetite for conflict took him to the gridirons of the nation, as well as to the halls of Congress and the courts of Justice.

The dispute which coincided with Sammy's arrival in Glassport was a political disagreement. Glassport, a town on the Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Railroad, had just seceded from the Borough of Port Vue.

Up to that time, Glassport had been called a village. As such, it differed a great deal from the elm-shaded towns of New England and the flat chestnut-lined streets of Ohio. True, it had a village blacksmith, but the principal local industry was the United States Glass Company. There were five churches, five hotels, a bank, water works, volunteer fire department, the usual number of groceries, butcher shops and haberdashery stores. The ladies of the town patronized a handy dressmaker or made the trip to Pittsburgh for their finery and necessities. The community was served by natural gas, good sewerage and paved streets, including Monongahela Avenue, the cause celebre over which the secession took place. Even today, through the fond eyes, of Sammy Weiss, Monongahela Avenue does not in any way resemble the Champs Elysee, Park Avenue or the Unter den Linden of yesteryear. It is therefore difficult to say whether or not the Avenue justified the drastic step which was taken by some five thousand persons in renouncing allegiance to the governmental authorities of Port Vue and withdrawing to set up their own little municipality on the banks of the Monongahela River. In any case, the divorce proceedings which separated one-half of the community from the other took place when the people of the Village of Glassport wanted to issue bonds in the amount of $60,000 to pave Monongahela Avenue. Port Vue citizens objected because they felt they would never see the improvement. Since it is doubtful that they expected their lives to be abnormally brief, we must conclude that they looked with something less than trust upon those charged with the administration of the funds to be realized from the sale of the improvement bonds. Either the gentlemen were poor campaigners, or cynics were abundant in Port Vue. However, the faith of Glassport residents in their officials was firm and proved to be well-founded. The bond issue went through and the street was speedily paved. Sammy Weiss walked often over those bricks and continued in the footsteps of those honest public servants.

Rectitude can be carried to extremes, of course. Sammy has recognized this through his life, which may explain why he was the first boy in Glassport-possibly in the country-to have courage enough to whistle in the public library. He did it not out of disrespect for authority, but simply to express a desire which has doubtless gripped every normal American boy.

Sammy knew he was a man. He became "Bar Mitzva," which is manhood in Jewish life. But that was not by any means his only reason. One day Sammy stood on the river bank with his father. They looked out over the muddy Monongahela, with its traffic of barges and sternwheel towboats. The roustabout, who waved back to Sammy from a coal barge, could see even at that distance that the two looked alike. The boy was almost as tall as the dark little man who had fled persecution in Eastern Europe to make his way to the United States. Sammy's father could see what the man on the coal barge could not see-the young features dark as his own. His son seemed to have taken only his heart from his mother. None of these thoughts was in the quick mind of the boy. He was thinking only of the fact that his father was talking to him as an equal. It was a pleasant sensation. Then, he realized that his father had been talking to him in this friendly, serious way for a long time. He did not know whether it had been for weeks or years, but he knew that he wanted very much to be like this kindly, determined man who was his father. The word "love" was something he associated only with books or a strange thing cherished by women and girls. While he did not attempt to define the emotion he felt toward his father, Sammy knew that between them there was a lasting bond. If pressed, he would have described his feelings for his mother and would have thus revealed deep love. She would always be his fountainhead of kindness, inspiration for all the kinship for his fellowman that he was some day to express in his sponsorship of humanitarian legislation in the nation's capital. But, with his father, as with him, their mutual feeling was a pact of understanding.

"Sammy, the greatest enemy of all men is an admission of failure," his father told him. "Those whistles you hear summon men to work and tell them when to go home, they mark the time of day. You've heard them blow for the lunch hour. On the river, they blow for a landing and for the lock gates to open. They help men lead orderly lives. In that, they are good because, as you must always remember, Sammy, work is necessary to our lives. We are no good without it. Don't shirk it. But never let the whistles boss you. Rather, let them guide you."

Behind them a through-train was shrilly insisting on the right of way.

"Listen to that one."

Sammy was listening, intently. He listened not so much to the whistle as to the thoughts within him. "Come on," they cried, "Let's go. Rush! Quickmarch ! Gallop! Charge!" And in the backreaches of his mind there were overtones and undertones-yes, muted tones and master tones; crescendos, obligatos, woodwinds and brass and strings, all with tones, yes, the tones of whistles.

Sammy threw the last of a handful of pebbles into the waves which lapped the Monongahela's shores in the wake of a busy tow. As though a period had been put to the last sentence, father and son turned and picked their way over the tracks into town. When they reached Monongahela Avenue, someone called to them in a cheery voice.

"Hello, Sammy, how're ya battin?"

As they turned, Israel Weiss saw the dignified black garb and stiff white collar of a priest. His son answered the greeting with enthusiasm and easy familiarity.

"Fine, Father Rea, " he said. "How are you?"

Then, to Israel Weiss, "That's Father Thomas Rea," he explained. "He's the Catholic priest who has the baseball team."

"Do you play with the team?" his father asked.

"Oh, sure, Dad," Sammy told him. "And he hasn't even tried to make a Catholic out of me."

The elder Weiss smiled. Had the year been 1944 instead of 1914, Israel would have been able to learn from Bing Crosby that the soul of a boy may be as pliant as the center of a baseball-however tough its hide. Without benefit of the movies, the boy's father fully appreciated that boys frequently wear football and baseball togs straight into heaven.

Before the pair turned into the front yard, two young ladies of Sammy's age approached from the opposite direction. "Hello, Sammy," they greeted shyly. Sammy was prefunctory this time, but by no means negligent. He said, "Hello!" brightly.

"Your mother has dark hair, Sammy."

"I like girls with light hair, don't you Papa"

"Mamma's pretty," said Sammy, waving to a policeman who was adjusting his tall helmet. The arm of the law was not nearly so well equipped as its head in those days.

Life was simple. It raised no problems, unless you would so consider a budding awareness of the guileless creatures called girls. But life was not without its drama. In a Pennsylvania mill town you can expect almost anything to happen at any time and it usually does. There was the time that an over-sized ruffian named Mell struck a blow for what he called "Americanism." He tramped on Sammy's lunch. When Sammy protested, the bully pushed him flat among the remnants of the food.

Sammy was stocky and tough, he got to his feet. Determined fists swung into action; but he was not big enough; Mel simply pushed him down again. He would have stood on Sammy except for the intervention of Fritz Quinn. The latter had just knocked Mell sprawling when the high school principal reached the scene. Pointing to Mel and to Sammy's defender, he said, "You will both report to me in my office at once."

He didn't notice Sammy who was looking ruefully at his scattered lunch.

As the principal strode off Sammy ran after him. "Mr. Boggs," he cried, "I want to tell you how it started."

Mr. Boggs stopped. "Young man, I think I'm capable of handling this affair without your help. When I need help from you or any other student, I'll ask for it."

"But, Mr. Boggs!" Sammy protested, "I just wanted to tell

you ...."

"I'd suggest that you mind your own business, Sam," the principal told him with an air of finality. "I don't know which I dislike more-talebearers or busybodies."

Fritz Quinn was expelled that afternoon. He had refused to explain to Mr. Boggs why he had punched Mel, who in turn insisted that he hadn't done anything to Fritz.

When Mr. Boggs asked if that were true, Fritz said, "Yes."

"You mean to say he didn't do anything to you? Yet you punched him and knocked him down?" the principal asked, unable to find an answer for such conduct.

Fritz was not very good at explaining things. Even if he had been, he would have shrunk from making a "hero" of himself. So Fritz just nodded.

"I can't understand you, Fritz," he told the big youth whose self-enforced silence seemed to suggest sullenness. "But unless you explain your actions and apologize to Mel, I'll have to expel you."

Fritz was a stolid chap, the principal concluded. There was no way for him to know what was going on in Steve's mind. Nor could he understand the looks Fritz gave to Mel. That's why he was shocked when Fritz replied, very deliberately- " Not to that skunk."

The other pupils understood why Fritz did what he did. They didn't blame Mr. Boggs or Sammy for what had happened. Everybody knew what had taken place-and why. They also knew Mel. But Sammy didn't feel the same way about the blame for the situation. It was all his fault. At the earliest opportunity he marched back to Mr. Boggs office.

"Young man," blurted out Mr. Boggs, "I hope you are not back here about that disgraceful incident of yesterday?"

"Well, sir. . . "

Mr. Boggs was annoyed. He had patience, he assured himself, but not an unlimited supply.

"I'm not going to ask you to sit down, young man, because I consider you not only discourteous, but impertinent. Never in all my experiences have I seen such a determined meddler. Perhaps you didn't understand me when I said that I dislike very much both talebearers and busybodies. I meant you."

Sammy moved his lips. That was as far as he got. If Mr. Boggs' eyes and raised voice had not warned him, the hand which thumped the desk certainly put him in his place.

"Let me finish. Then I want you to leave this office. And when you leave you will please remember not to come back unless it is on some errand other than your present one. It would be well for you to learn to mind your own business. That's a lesson you need. You need it because you insist on butting into things which do not concern you.

"Yesterday, we had a regrettable happening here. You saw it. So did a number of other students. None of them, except you, has taken it upon himself to tell me what happened. Perhaps they give me credit for more intelligence than you do."

Sammy was stricken, but he knew better than to interrupt.

"Perhaps you don't know that Fritz Quinn admitted, here in this office, that Mel had done nothing to him. Do you think we can have students here who walk up to other students and knock them down for reasons which they can't explain? Or for no reason whatever ? "

"But what about reasons they won't explain, Mr. Boggs?"

The question surprised the principal. He seemed to forget that he was interrogated.

"Won't explain!"

"Yes, sir."

"Just as bad or worse. There is no reason why any student can't explain his actions to me. Unless he is ashamed of them."

"Well, sir," Sammy announced, "Fritz wasn't ashamed of what he did. Maybe he's just too decent to make himself a hero over something he's proud of. Maybe I'm just a busybody. And if I am, I guess you can expel me, too."

Mr. Boggs listened.

"Only I've got to tell you what every student in the whole school knows. And they won't tell you. They won't tell you because I think they are kind of ashamed of what happened. Or maybe of why it happened. They know Fritz wouldn't ever tell you why he punched Mel. Sure, you've got the facts. Only, Mr. Boggs, you've just got half of them."

Mr. Boggs leaned forward. Then he got up. He walked over to Sammy. Sammy didn't give an inch. The principal did a surprising thing. He put his arm around the stocky little fellow with the dark complexion and fiercely determined manner.

"Sit down, son," he said. "I think you have a story to tell me."

Sammy told him. It was evident that the telling cost him some

thing in pride. When he finished, the principal leaned back in his chair thoughtfully.

"Sammy," he said after a long hesitation, "I owe Fritz Quinn an apology-and a salute. He's an Amercian all the way through. I'm proud of him. I wish you would go and get him. I want to see him."

Sammy started for the door.

"And, by the way, Sammy, in case you haven't decided what career to follow, I'd like to offer a suggestion. You'd make a good lawyer. "

Sammy stopped in the doorway. "But, Mr. Boggs," he asked, "aren't lawyers sort of busybodies?"

The principal frowned. "Get out and get Fritz!"

Late in the month of May in the year 1927, Charles A. Lindbergh flew over the Atlantic Ocean from New York to Paris. In early June of the same year, Samuel Arthur Weiss was graduated from law school. So far as Sammy was concerned, these were the two greatest events of 1927. But whereas Lindbergh received some 55,000 congratulatory telegrams, Sammy got two. One was from his pal, Martin A. Flanagan. The other was from his parents.

According to the newspapers of the time, young Lindbergh was very modest about his historic achievement. He avoided the press and refused offers to make money although a merry snowstorm of confetti and ticker tape swirled across the nation in his honor. However, there is nothing in the history of the era to indicate the feelings of the nation about Sammy's accomplishment. Sammy admits he did not feel modest. His feat was of considerable importance to him. He had worked and studied hard to achieve it.

"They told me the Law was a jealous mistress," he says today. "I gave her all I had. The hours I was not in class I spent in the Allegheny County Law Library, then caught the 'Bummer' train to Glassport at midnight."

While there was no national enthusiasm over Sammy's new status, his entry in the ranks of those learned in law was destined to be of importance to a lot of persons. His later accomplishments did not suffer from a similar lack of public notice. However, at the time of his graduation from Duquesne University Law School, the only persons who observed the occasion were members of the Weiss family and Sammy's classmate, "Marty."

Since Flanagan's powers of oratory were all that could be expected of an Irishman, it was by no means surprising that he was chosen to speak for the graduating class of '27 at the annual alumni banquet. Flanagan spoke solely for his class in many of the things he said. But he spoke for the entire university when he referred to Sammy Weiss.

"It may be a trifle early to predict the future of Sammy's legal career," Flanagan told his audience, "inasmuch as he has not yet succeeded in finding an office. But if he can apply a fraction of his football generalship and energy to the legal profession, he will be sitting on the Supreme Court in three months."

There was a genuine round of applause. The alumni liked Sammy. Somehow or other, Flanagan's quip was more enjoyable because the accomplishment he suggested did not strike his audience as being quite impossible insofar as Sammy was concerned.

"Since you all know that Sammy was our football captain and star quarterback in 1924, I think you ought to know how Sammy happened to enter Duquesne University . . . ."

As Flanagan went on with his speech, one guest at the main table leaned over to another and remarked with a chuckle, "I'll never forget it!"

That was Hal Balin, the head football coach to whom Sammy had reported in 1923. Coach Balin had reason to remember this event. Sammy's entrance had been as purposeful as that of a kid invading an ice cream parlor. When the gymnasium door swung open, Balin had the sensation of seeing a well-behaved voltage that looked like a Young man of dark complexion, stocky build, black hair and restless tongue. The young man introduced himself and then launched into a rapid-fire description of his career at Glassport High School and the University of Pittsburgh.

"Well, now. . .," Balin kept saying, only to find that Sammy didn't brook interference. Sammy knew all about Duquesne University, an institution run by Catholic priests, The Fathers of the Holy Ghost. But even though he was confident of his football, he was not sure he qualified for a school operated by a religious order.

"I want to play football for Duquesne University," Sammy confided to Coach Balin, "But I think it's only fair to tell you in advance that they couldn't use me at Pitt. Besides, I'm Jewish."

Balin looked at Sammy with a gimlet eye. Then he said: "Look son, we're holding tryouts for a football team-not for the Ku Klux Klan. If you can play football, you'll make the squad. And whenever we have to 'pray' one over, you just pray your way as hard as you can. We'll pray our way." (Balin, incidentally, happens to be a Protestant).

"Oh, just one thing more," Balin added. "We've got a ground rule here that we try to carry-the ball ten or twelve times ourselves before we ask the Lord to take it over for a touchdown. That way we feel we're not imposin'. You understand, don't you?"

Sammy grinned.

"Now, get a uniform. . . and don't think you're Napoleon just because you're a little guy."

Appreciative laughter at the alumni banquet brought Coach Balin back to the present. Flanagan related how he and Weiss, in their early college days, had confused a new professor for more than a week by Weiss answering to the name of "Flanagan" and Flanagan to "Weiss." As the banquet audience was well aware, Flanagan was an exceedingly handsome Irishman. Sammy was likewise a good looking male, but it was not the map of Ireland that he wore on his face. They could appreciate why the two conspirators and the rest of the class had heard the professor mutter to himself at each roll call, as his bewilderment grew, "There must be something wrong." And then, Flanagan told how someone had finally set the professor right so that by way of just reward, but with a perfectly straight face, he had assigned term papers to these reversed identities. "Weiss" (Flanagan) was called upon to write on "Hebrew Culture," while "Flanagan" (Weiss) was required to prepare a scholarly dissertation on "The Glories of Irish History."

At the faculty table there were others who knew intimately the fast-talking Sammy. The name of Weiss would never fail to bring pleasant scenes to mind. Other names and faces would be long remembered, too; but none other would march across their minds to the same quick tempo. To Dr. Clinton Lloyd, Dean of the School of Speech and Drama, Sammy was a contradiction.

"Weiss," he once told him, "you are the only student in my career -perhaps you are the only man in history-who can make Reinzo sound like a modern character.

"When you recite 'Rienzo to the Romans,"" he explained to Sammy and the class, "I get the distinct impression that Rienzo was afraid he would miss his train."

The class laughed, but Sammy took it good naturedly.

"I'll try to slow him down, Dr. Lloyd."

And he did. . . although never to the point where Dr. Lloyd felt that Weiss would miss his train.

He remembered the time he had advised Weiss to study law. He was listening to the final examination speeches of his public speaking class. Weiss had chosen to prepare a "Plea of Defense" for an innocent man on a trial for murder. It had been well done.

Weiss demonstrated that identification had been improper. For the accused, Weiss asked only justice. Dr. Lloyd would always see Weiss making that speech, and he marveled to himself that earnestness makes such a sharp impression on the mind. Or was it the heart? Weiss had believed in what he said. He had made a masterful plea for the poor and unfortunate of all time, the undefended.

"Sammy," said the Dean, "you will be wasting a great talent if you do not study law."

It cannot be said that everyone at the alumni banquet was thinking of Sammy Weiss. But it is a fact that there was no one at that table who had not at some time or other had reason to think of him. If you had asked Dean John E. Laughlin of the Law School what he remembered best about young Mr. Weiss, he would have told you of Sammy's senior year declamation, in which he solemly propounded the proposition that "what we need is not more law but enough justice."

The Dean agreed with him.

"If ever I have it within my power to help shape the laws of this land, I shall remember," Sammy vowed, "that what we need is not more law but enough justice.

"Legislatures pass law after law, many of which are never enforced. Other laws fail to receive proper interpretation from the Bench. Law will not change the world nor the times in which we live. Let me cite an example of so-called law which should serve for all of us-and for all lawmakers-as a shameful case of lawmaking at its worst.

"In Norphelt, Arkansas, an ordinance was passed last year with these provisions:

" 'Section I. Hereafter it shall be unlawful for any man or woman, male or female, to be guilty of committing the act of sexual intercourse between themselves at any place within the corporate limits of said town.'

"Gentlemen, I think you will bear me out that it was encouraging to read in this law that at least one of the Ten Commandments had thus been fully-although tardily-ratified by the law-makers of Norphelt. But these good men undoubtedly felt, since law is largely a matter of interpretation of ordinances and statutes, they must take precautions to make their law abundantly clear. Clear, gentlemen, lest the ordinance carry with it what might be called a fundamental handicap to the future growth of Norphelt. Therefore, Section III was made to read as follows

" 'Section III. Section I of this ordinance shall not apply to married persons as between themselves, and their husband and wife, unless of grossly improper and lascivious nature.'

"Your Honor, Dean Laughlin, and gentlemen, I leave the proposition to you. I am convinced on this and other counts, perhaps more celebrated but hardly more serious, that what we must have under the Constitution is not more laws, but enough justice. Plus common sense to recognize that law must above all be reasonable. It must wear overalls as gracefully as it wears ermine. But when it is clothed, as I have just illustrated, in the motley of fools, it is not law, but folly."

But whether Dean Laughlin was thinking of Sammy or whether his thoughts were turned back to the days when he, too, had gone to college, no one can say. Around the corners of his mouth could be seen the suspicion of a smile, suggesting moments happily remembered. It was not, however, until long after his retirement as head of the Duquesne University Law School that Dean Laughlin gave his estimate of Sammy to Oliver K. Eaton, a distinguished local attorney.

"You know, Oliver," he said, "I honestly believe that fiery little rascal does love his fellow-man."

"Among the cynics of the legal profession," Eaton told him, "Weiss may cause some bewilderment. He manages to give personal service on a mass production basis."

The Dean nodded. "He'd do well in politics wouldn't he?"

In this latter statement the Dean was nothing if not prophetic, especially since Sammy did not hold politics in very high regard at this particular time in his life. Actually he had to be persuaded to seek his first public office. He freely admits that the first time took a great deal more persuasion than on subsequent occasions. Politics and a lot of other things were destined to happen to Sammy in the years to come. He was to make history as perhaps the only lawyer who ever caused and won a murder case. In Harrisburg he was to launch himself into a sensational fight against the ruthless squires racket and later, in Washington, to attack the type of politician who thrives on class and economic hatreds. He was to win every time. There were to be occasions when the whistle was almost blown against him rather than by him; but he was never to spare himself when he saw an off-side play.

Sammy was to remember that alumni banquet almost twenty years later when his Alma Mater bestowed upon him the most prized award of "Outstanding Alumnus," an honor conferred at rare intervals. He had cause to feel a sense of loss as he gained a great honor. Marty Flanagan had just died.

When the speeches were finished in Memorial Hall on June 3, 1945, Sammy held the scroll and plaque against his academic robes. Those closest thought they saw a tear. Turning to the young President of Duqusene University, the Very Rev. Raymond V. Kirk, he said

"Wouldn't Marty Flanagan have loved to make a speech about this, Father?"

"I'm sure he knows about it," said Father Kirk. "And if they permit speeches in Heaven-which I doubt-there is some of the finest oratory they ever heard going on right this minute."

From the back of Hirshberg's Furniture Store in McKeesport, Pennsylvania, the owner could see the activity in the street beyond his display windows. Thus he was not altogether unprepared for the entrance of a customer when a stocky young man came briskly down the street, pulled open the glass doors and strode into the middle of the display room. His entry was made to the whistled tune of "Over There." The tempo was appropriate, since the customer was youthful and carefree in appearance. There was nothing strange in the fact. At home, he had two university diplomas, the second attesting a law degree. In his pocket was a letter notifying him he had passed the Pennsylvania State Bar Examinations. This partly explained his exuberance.

Mr. Hirshberg said, "Hello, Sammy, how's your Papa?"

"He's fine, thank you, Mr. Hirshberg, " the young man replied. "He said to be sure to give you his regards."

"A fine man, your papa," the furniture dealer assured him, "And what can I do for you, Sammy?"

At this Sammy looked just a bit embarrassed. If Mr. Hirshberg noticed any lessening of the young man's confidence and buoyancy, he gave no sign. He merely waited for Sammy to answer his question.

"Why, Mr. Hirshberg, I need some furniture for my new law office. "

"Oh! so you've passed the law, have you now, Sammy?"

"The Bar exams, Mr. Hirshberg," Sammy corrected, digging into his pocket for the notice, so that he could wave it before the merchant. "And I was admitted to practice this morning." As he made this announcement, Sammy beamed with such satisfaction that Mr. Hirshberg felt as though he, too, bad attained a personal triumph in Sammy's admittance to the Bar of Pennsylvania.

"Yes," Sammy assured him, "I'm ready to practice law except that I don't have an office. . . "

". . . and perhaps no customers," Mr. Hirshberg finished.

"No clients," Sammy corrected.

"Oh, well, Sammy, they'll come in time. And if I know you, it won't be a long time. I guess we can let you have credit on the furniture you'll need. . ."

Sammy felt greatly relieved. Mr. Hirshberg had made it easy for him. He had not wanted to ask for credit, but he had no cash. As a matter of fact, he had everything a lawyer needs except clients and cash. His father had lent him five dollars so that he might travel back and forth between Glassport and Pittsburgh. That five-spot represented his total financial assets. So, if be appeared anxious to become a working member of the Bar, his zeal was not without a spur.

Mr. Hirshberg helped him make a suitable selection. "It must look nice and prosperous, Sammy," he told the young lawyer. And he made sure of that.

Sitting at his desk in the days which followed, Sammy reflected that the chairs would look even better when filled with clients. He reached for his hat and caught the next trolley to Pittsburgh. In the offices of James F. Malone, Sr., he stated his problem. Mr. Malone was very much impressed. He picked up his telephone.

"Get me Charley Lang," Malone told his secretary. Turning to his visitor, he explained, "I'm calling Charles P. Lang, the Assistant City Solicitor for Pittsburgh. He's associated with Samuel S. Rosenberg, a fine young attorney who has made a record in the Criminal Courts. "

There was action on the other end of the wire now. Mr. Malone stated what he wanted. And for the benefit of the reader it should be explained that Mr. Malone was a power in Republican politics-even as his son, James F. Malone, Jr., is today a power in the same party, being the Republican Chairman of Allegheny County and Insurance Commissioner of the State of Pennsylvania.

Over at the offices of Rosenberg and Lang, in the Berger Building, Sammy was given a warm welcome. Mr. Malone's introduction had worked wonders. He was told to return on Monday morning. When he did, he had scarcely stepped off the elevator and approached Room 512, when he noticed a new name on the door of the law firm. There, for all to see, on the door of a law firm in an office building in downtown Pittsburgh, was his name: "Samuel A. Weiss!" He barely remembered to open the door. Indeed, it is quite surprising that he didn't make one of his line-bucks right through it. Possibly he sensed that one doesn't crash one's way into seventh heaven... or into love.

As cocky as Clarence Darrow and feeling more learned than Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Samuel A. Weiss swished through the door. His hat was at a slight angle. He was about to whistle one of his happy tunes. . . and then the whistle slid off, rose into an amazed wheeeee-uuuuugh, and died. At the desk there was a blonde. She looked at him with mild surprise. He looked at her and-well, struggled to pull himself together again.

"Yes?" she said, provocatively, although she knew perfectly well who he was and why he was there.

"I'm Sammy Weiss, " he explained. "I . . ."

"Of course, Mr. Weiss," she interrupted. "You are the new member. I'm Jeannette Hoffman. I'll show you your office."

That was the extent of their first conversation-their first meeting. Both of them have tried for years to recall everything about it, but that is all the romance they can make of it. However, Sammy admits saying to himself, as he sat down at his desk in the new office, "That's for me." And his mind was not on his law career. It was on a blond head which he could see beyond the open doorway.

The agile mind inside the blond head was not made up quite so quickly. But Jeannette definitely was disturbed by the dashing blackhaired member of the firm who charged about the office as though he were in a football scrimmage or fielding high flies off the left field fence.

After Sammy had established his own offices in the Grant Building in 1929, he took Jeannette out socially. They became engaged in January, 1930. Six months later they were married and made their home in Glassport after a honeymoon spent in Atlantic City.

That first day in the office, Sammy did not have long to think romantic thoughts. Mr. Rosenberg called him into his office and said, "I'm sending you over to handle the case of a client charged with fraudulent conversion. Here are the facts."

Sammy merely said, "Yes, sir," and started on his way to Criminal Court-worried sick about the future welfare of his client.

The District Attorney's Office was represented by M. Barney Cohen, a cool and competent trial lawyer. Sammy picked a jury. He is not quite sure, now, how he got through it. But he did. After Assistant District Attorney Cohen finished his case, he said to Sammy, "I doubt whether the Court will let this go to the jury. Ask for binding instructions."

That left Sammy more at sea than ever.

"How do you do it?" he asked, frankly.

"Just ask for it," the Prosecutor told him.

Sammy got up. The case was being tried before Judge Frank P. Patterson. "I could have been asking for a sack of potatoes," Sammy tells us, "when I stood up in front of Judge Patterson and said, 'Your Honor, I'd like to have binding instructions.' By this time the Judge was smiling. Prosecutor Cohen joined in the request. Sammy won his case at the direction of the Court.

That was Sammy's first day as a lawyer. He will never forget it. Jean remembers how he returned to the office. "This time," she says, "he seemed to think he was a composite of Rody P. Marshall (famous Pittsburgh criminal attorney) and the nine members of the Supreme Court."

As a matter of notable record, Sammy won his first nine cases. He lost the tenth, a case involving aggravated assault and battery. He lost only ten other cases in eighteen years. In all, he won more than four hundred cases. It's not surprising that observers of the Allegheny County Criminal Courts say Sammy was pretty tough. He had to be to chalk up such an excellent record.

Of the cases he tried and lost, there is only one that he lost without regret-although he tried it with might and main and came near winning. "It was an unusual case, for me" he tells us. "The charge was that of 'Common Scold' against a woman under Common Law. She was found guilty. And it was a proper verdict. After all, I was her Attorney, and you should have heard what she told me after the Jury brought in that verdict against her. That Jury certainly did 'hear' the crime re-enacted in their presence."

Lawyers have been accused of going pretty far to get clients, but, Sammy Weiss is possibly the only attorney who indirectly brought about a murder and then successfully defended the accused. Naturally, he had no intention of doing anything of the sort. But circumstance is a strange thing and human beings are even stranger. This was one of those serious affairs which come to light out of the tangled lives of little men.

Felix Bucco and Joseph Reno lived in Glassport. On many occasions both sat in Sammy's office and talked with him about their small problems. He was always ready to listen. The three men were friends. Bucco was a big man, strong enough to be able to lift both Sammy and Reno at the same time. Something happened between Bucco and Reno. Their visits stopped. Then, one day, Reno came in to see Sammy-breathless and looking worried.

"What's the matter, Joe?" Sammy asked with real concern as soon as he saw Reno. "You look as if you'd seen a ghost."

"No ghost, Sammy," Reno replied, "It's Felix. He's sore at me. Threatens to beat me up. I'm worried he might come up to the house some night and cause trouble. Maybe you oughta give him notice to leave me alone. You can, can'tcha, Sam

Sammy shook his head, "No, I can't, Joe, but the law can. Only. . ." He stopped talking and got up from his chair. Walking over to his friend, he put one arm around Reno. . . "only I think maybe I ought to get you two in here and settle this thing right. You're good friends, after all. You're both my friends."

Reno protested emphatically. "No, no, no, Sammy. Don't do that. I don't want to get anywhere near him. Just send him a letter, please, Sam

Dropping into his chair, Sammy thought for a while. He did not relish the idea of sending one friend a letter warning him to keep the peace with another friend. He was disturbed about the quarrel. Then, looking at little Joe Reno, he could see the fellow was really scared.

"All right, Joe," he told him. "I'll dictate a letter tomorrow. You keep out of Felix's way."

Sammy made a note of the matter, hardly hearing his client depart.

Two days later it happened.

The letter had been duly sent to Felix Bucco, notifying him that Sammy's client, Joe Reno, had been threatened and that if he, Bucco, did not cease and desist, action would be taken under the law.

Bucco was angry as he left his home, following receipt of the letter. He went looking for Reno. He found the little man at the corner of Monongahela Avenue and Eighth Street, the "Times Square" of Glassport. Reno had his back turned when the comparatively huge Bucco suddenly seized him, lifted him bodily in the air, and began to choke him with both hands. Bystanders tried to break up the fight. Reno slipped from Bucco's grasp and fell to the ground. As he lay there, he reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a gun. He shot Bucco four times. Bucco died the next day.

Reno sent for Sammy. He wanted defense counsel. "Certainly, he needed it," Sammy explains. "But I was quite disturbed about the tragedy. I berated myself for having written the letter. And then I told myself that I had only done what was right."

When the case was tried, Reno was acquitted. But Sammy will never forget the words of the Trial Judge who called him up to the side bar after the verdict was in.

"Son," he told the young lawyer, "it looks to me like you caused and won your first murder case."

And so he had.

He has come to understand, in later years, that it was not his fault that tragedy followed his letter. "I was trying to prevent trouble, not cause it-that I know," he states with all the vehemence of a man troubled by a vivid memory. It is the kind of experience which disturbs a man who has a heart and soul.

Jean Weiss tells her friends she has never bought Sammy a pair of slippers. "Even if he does smoke," she explains, "he's just not the pipe and slippers kind."

She smiles when she tries to picture Sammy in a quiet-evening-at-home tableau. Somehow it just won't jell. "Why, if I ever put anything light on his feet, he'd mistake them for racing shoes."

"Well, what does he wear" the curious always ask at this point. If the conversation is taking place at one of the typical gatherings at the Weiss home in Glassport, Jean just excuses herself. When she reappears, she has in her hand a pair of Congress gaiters, those high ankle-protectors with black elastic sections.

"I bought these for him as a joke. But it turned out to be on me. He Likes them."

To all this Sammy merely nods pleasantly, because, as a matter of fact, he would wear Roman sandals or Seven League Boots if Jean wanted him to. Anyway, he's probably carrying on two other conversations at the same time if the living room happens to be crowded. He has a curious habit of sidling back and forth in any gathering as though he were working two jury boxes at once. Strangely enough, he developed this practice on the football field.

Jean says Sammy has actually managed to spend quiet evenings at home and thoroughly enjoys them. "Perhaps they are more enjoyable because they are so rare," she adds. "But when he has time, night or morning, he can get more fun playing on the floor than either Jimmy or Joy."

Jimmy likes to emulate his football hero daddy. In this indoor mayhem, Sammy joins with gusto. Sometimes the results are unfortunate. Not long ago Jimmy-wearing a new headgear-missed the Judge in a line plunge through the living room and accidentally bumped his mother, throwing her sacroiliac out of place. This painful incident was taken in good grace by young Mrs. Weiss.

"Well, at least it was better than throwing it out in a rhumba!" she told the doctor at Pittsburgh's Mercy Hospital.

The accident was taken much more seriously by the men of the Weiss household. Both Jimmy and the Judge wore looks of deepest gravity for days. These outward evidences of inward pain were startling to behold. One member of the Mercy staff remarked to Mrs. Weiss that perhaps her son and husband were even more needful of hospital attention.

"No, it's only their consciences," she laughed. "And I'm afraid you would find them a little hard to get at. Anyhow, they'll forget all about it just as soon as I get home and cook them a good meal. Like other males, they're much less conscience-stricken on a full stomach."

These incidents are indicative of the tempo of the Weiss household. And although the Judge's home abounds in hospitality and good manners, eleven-year-old Joy Weiss has a pointed comment on Daddy's ideas of an evening at home: "I wish Daddy would realize that Jimmy and I are getting too old to play on the floor with him."

However, Jean and Sammy still manage to have private talks after Joy and Jimmy are in bed. Sometimes they find their conversation turning back to the days "before politics"-especially to an evening back in 1931 when the March wind was blowing with the extra chill it held during the depression years. They were talking "cases." Jean is no stranger to the ways of the law, not only because of her work in a law office, but because her brother happened to be Sammy's law partner. The night which they recall so frequently is a milepost in the lives of the Weiss family. That was the night that politics first came into their thoughts and began to date events in the "before and after" manner much as the Chicago fire or one of Pittsburgh's famous floods.

Leo Ivory, a Duquesne alumnus, and Al Reich, a young Wilkinsburg businessman, both active in the Democratic Party, drove out from Pittsburgh on that snowy March night to talk to Sammy about running for political office. Sammy had told them on the telephone that he wasn't interested, but they could come over and have some beer. Jean was not sure she felt cordial. She says now that she had the feeling a snake was about to crawl into their little Garden of Eden. She hastens to explain that this metaphor refers to politics and doesn't imply any reflection on the two gentlemen who called.

"I have nothing against politics now," she explains. "Politics has done a lot for Sammy and has given him opportunities to do things for people. I like that. But the wife of any public official will tell you that those 'golf widows' they joke about have home-bodies for husbands compared to ours. Not long ago I told Sammy I was going to apply for jury duty so I could see him once in a while."

It didn't take Messrs. Ivory and Reich long to get to their political point. They thought Sammy ought to run for the Pennsylvania General Assembly-i.e., the lower house of the legislative body at Harrisburg.

"Sam, a young fellow like you ought to get into this thing," Leo Ivory insisted. "You can make a name for yourself. As a lawyer that would come in handy. Besides..."

Sammy interrupted. He never wasted time and he disliked seeing anyone else doing it. As far as he was concerned, Ivory and Reich were doing just that.

"Listen, fellows," he told them, "you're friends of mine and I appreciate your interest. It was darned nice of you to come all the way out here on a night like this to talk to me. But, to tell you the truth, I'd just as soon go in business making counterfeit money as get in politics. I don't like it. Look at the mess down there in Pittsburgh at City Hall. Right now they're trying the Mayor for malfeasance in office. Look at the trouble Governor Pinchot's having. Politics stink, and I don't want any part of it!"

"But, Sam," Al Reich broke in, eagerly, "that's just why we came out here to see you. Politics needs people like you. They need young guys who are disgusted with what's going on now. The country was certainly in terrible shape until President Roosevelt took over. He's really doing things. He's going to make the Democratic Party great. And you ought not to pass up a chance to be a part of this thing. You can make history."

Sammy couldn't help smiling at Al's enthusiasm. He reached over with a friendly gesture and patted Al's shoulder, "I like you, pal. But never mind history. What's going to be done for the people? A lot of people here in Glassport aren't eating too well. An empty belly doesn't have a very long history. Are stomachs on this program? "

"Hell, Sam!" Ivory exploded, impatiently. Then he turned to Jean and said, "I'm sorry, Jean." Resuming, he repeated himself, much to Jean's amusement. "Hell, Sam, people's stomachs is all Roosevelt's interested in. He's going to see that the people get enough to eat and help them save their homes. But we have to support him in every state. We need Democrats in legislatures."

It was at this point that Jean spoke up.

"Sam knows how I feel about politics, and he knows why. I have had plenty of opportunity to see politics at work. I don't want him to have anything to do with it."

She was looking at them with an expression that was part plea, part challenge. It was an ultimatum. She wanted them to understand.

"Don't think that I look down on politicians. I've known some fine men, some of the finest, to be in it. The simple truth is I don't want Sammy ever to get himself mixed up in such a thankless business. He'd break his heart trying to do things for the people. And in the end, he'd get what they all get. He'd get a smear. So please don't urge him. He can help people in court. They need help there, too."

While Jean spoke, Sammy sat listening intently. He was always guided by her wishes. Both Reich and Ivory looked crestfallen. When Jean stopped speaking, Sammy spoke up

"Men, that's how it's going to be. Jean's right. I want to help people. I think I can do it better through the law. That's my profession-not politics. So just count me out. You can get somebody better known than I am, somebody who knows something about politics. Me, I'm as green as they come, and I wouldn't be of any help to you or the Democratic Party for a long time, if ever."

"You're wrong, Sam," Al Reich interjected. "And that's what's the matter with politics today. We need new men. The old ones won't do."

Jean said nothing. They sat in an awkward silence. Leo Ivory muttered: "Well, anyway we wish you would think it over. The Tenth Legislative District needs you, and we're not going to ask for a final answer now."

At this Jean turned to Sam, laughing good-naturedly. "This ought to be quite a contest," she said. "Mr. Ivory is as persistent as you."

"True," Sammy came right back, "but I doubt if he can be as determined as you, dear!"

They all laughed. The visitors left. When Sammy and Jean stepped back into the living room, Sammy said, "You know, Jean, maybe I ought to look into this. . ."

That was as far as he got. "Sam," Jean told him, "I don't want to be difficult, but I think we said at least 'good night' to politics for this evening. I hope it will also be `goodbye'."

They went back to discussing "cases."

During the neat week, Sammy and Jean had reason to believe that Al Reich and Leo Ivory were at work in what Leo called "Sammy's behalf." Two days after his refusal to enter politics, Sammy was sitting in his law offices, when Joe Witkowski, the Democratic Chairman of Glassport, dropped in. Witkowski knew Sammy too well to try to make his visit appear accidental. He came right to the point. Whether he knew it or not, that approach got him off to a good start with the young man whom he was trying to persuade.

"You know why I'm here, Sam," he said, "and I'm not going to beat around the bush. We need you as one of the Legislative candidates for the Tenth District. Leo and Al suggested I come to see you. I'd have done that anyhow, but I just want you to understand that nobody's trying to double-team you. "

Sammy was busy preparing a case at the time. He was planning to burn the midnight oil and he had no desire to waste any time. He waved his hand in a friendly, yet deprecating gesture which conveyed "take it away." He also shook his head.

But Witkowski wasn't discouraged.

"Okay, Sam, okay," he said, "I know you're busy and don't want anything to do with politics. You may be right. But maybe you don't know as much about what is going on around you as you think. Sure, you know the law. But do you know that the same law you practice in the courts can put people in jail because they have no money to pay their taxes?"

Sammy looked up, surprised. He started to say something, but Witkowski waved him silent-no mean accomplishment for anyone, either then or now.

"You listen to me, first," Witkowski said. "If you don't give me a 'yes' answer, you are not the man I think you are. Maybe I should have asked Mrs. Bruneleski to come down here with her five kids and tell you that they have no compensation to live on since Joe got killed in the factory. Or would you prefer to go over to Finnerty's and see Pat, who hasn't any eyes? He'll tell you what he got for those eyes he lost while he was working. Yeah, he'll tell you that, but he can't tell you how he feels about not being able to see that curly haired kid of his or his wife's smile. And God knows she hasn't got much to smile about now. Sure, you know all about justice. You know all about the laws of a nice orderly court room where everybody does just right, but did you ever see the law the way it's used by the Coal and Iron Police-at the end of a bloody stick? Have you any idea how much chance the little guys get right here in Glassport or anywhere in Pennsylvania?"

Sam squirmed. "Now, look here, Joe, I know . . . ."

He was interrupted in a very blunt manner-so much so that he wondered, fleetingly, whether he was actually sitting in his own office.

"You do like hell, Sam, but it's time you found out. And it's time fellows like you got yourself elected to office where you can change a few laws and maybe pass a few new ones. So quit playing patty-cake with those divorces and murders, and do something that counts. And don't give me any of that bunk about the Constitution. As things stand now, it's no cure for an empty belly."

With that final declaration, Witkowski turned on his heel and walked deliberately toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he faced around toward Sammy. "Don't give me your answer now, and don't tell me I'm rushing you. I'll be around to see you Saturday."

After the door closed, Sam found it difficult to concentrate on his law books. This was unusual. Ever since he had begun to practice law, his ability to concentrate had always been his main asset. Now he found his thoughts wandering. He was disturbed by what Witkowski had said. Maybe he and Jean ought to talk things over again. He knew from his law practice that there were other cases of the kind Witkowski mentioned; funny though, he never gave them much thought. He tried to force his eyes to follow the details of Linbaugh vs. Watson, but he couldn't do it. He began to mutter to himself. At the sound of his own voice, he looked around the familiar office. For a while, he was quite still. Finally, he closed the books and got his hat and coat.

When he came in, Jean merely said, "You're home early, Sam." But there was no surprise in her voice. Rather, it was as though she had been expecting him. Nor was she waiting for an explanation. He hung up his hat and coat, followed her into the living room. She could tell that he was troubled. Instinctively she knew, also, that it as not over any of his cases. He was always supremely confident about his cases, and uniformly successful in trying them. Now he sat in the big armchair, silently. She knew something was turning over in his mind. She also knew what it was. When she spoke, what she said was typical of Jean Weiss.

"Sam," she told him, "Mrs. Bruneleski was over to see me today. I took her home in the car." Then she paused a few seconds. Sammy remembers the pause as clearly as what she said and the way she looked as she spoke. "Sam, I think you can win. I'll help in every way I can."

He got up and pulled her to her feet. He kissed her. He says now that he is probably the only man who started his political career by kissing his own wife.

Joe Witkowski soon found out that he had a political novice on his hands. He also discovered that his new man learned fast. Sammy wasn't registered in any political party, but this omission was soon corrected by Glassport's Democratic leader.

"Now that you're a member of the party of the people," explained Joe "you can run for the Legislature with full assurance that you'll be elected."

Sammy told him he hoped so. He had a couple of things he wanted to know, however. "How many other fellows will be running on the Democratic primary ticket in my district, Joe?"

Joe said there were about forty candidates just then, and he would not be surprised if there were more later on. "But you needn't worry about most of them. They're not so well known as you are. Anyhow, you let me worry about those things. You just go out and meet the people and get votes."

"Maybe I ought to meet the other forty candidates seeking nomination, Joe," Sammy suggested. "I'd be off to a good start if I could just persuade them that it's not sporting to vote for themselves."

Witkowski laughed. "Say," he exclaimed, "you weren't kidding me about never being in politics before, were you?"

Sammy said, "No."

"Well, for a new guy, you're gonna do all right."

Several weeks later, Leo Ivory took Sammy to meet David L. Lawrence. The titular head of the Democratic party in the state, Lawrence was then Collector of Internal Revenue. After the usual formalities of introduction, Leo explained the purpose of the visit

"Dave I brought Sammy in to see you because he's a candidate for the Legislature from the Tenth Dist ......

That was as far as Leo got before Lawrence exploded. He didn't swear. He didn't have to. He was emphatic enough without expletives. Sammy could see that Lawrence was angry, but he could not understand just what it was all about.. He wasn't in the dark long.

"I told you, Leo, I am not endorsing anyone in that district," Lawrence roared. "Why do you put me in an embarrassing position with this young man?"

At this point, Sammy showed the quick-on-the-trigger qualities which have made him so successful. He spoke up

"I'm sorry to cause you any inconvenience, Mr. Lawrence, I didn't come here to get your endorsement."

This statement left Lawrence close to being astounded.

Sammy went on, "As a new member of the Democratic Party and as a candidate for office, I felt I ought to meet the leaders of the Party-particularly since I'll be expected to work with them when I win. But I didn't come here to ask for your endorsement . . . although it would be a privilege to get it."

Lawrence found Sammy's approach so thoroughly refreshing that they sat in his office and talked for more than forty minutes, while at least a dozen people cooled their heels outside.

As it turned out later, there were exactly forty-six candidates for the Tenth Legislative District, and only four to be elected. Somehow it was rumored during the uncomfortable Primary campaign that almost all of the candidates were favored or "slated" by Democratic Headquarters. Those usually mentioned in this connection did not include Sammy. Let him explain the situation

"I had the assurance of Dave Lawrence that he was not endorsing anyone in the District, so I just went ahead and campaigned with might and main. I played it just. as I would a football game. I didn't take anything for granted. It wasn't easy. I was thirty-third on the ballot, and when it came to the actual voting my own mother didn't vote for me. Her eyesight was not too good at the time. She took her ballot into the booth with her. After almost ten minutes, when she couldn't find my name, the clerk warned her that there was a big lineup waiting. That confused her more. She left the voting booth in a huff without voting at all."

How the other people found Sammy's name on the ballot is something which still perplexes the Weiss family. Sammy regards his

(first election to the Pennsylvania General Assembly as "a pure accident." His only strength at the time, he feels, was his athletic following. Others are of the opinion that his diligence in campaigning had something to do with it-a lot, if you talk to the seasoned politicians. "Sammy should have had sore knuckles," they say, "he knocked on every door in his district." Again, Sammy's version is simpler, "My friends plumped for me. I can clearly recall that I won my nomination with only 2,975 votes. And the next time I ran I was nominated with 16,000 votes and elected by 55,000 votes, the largest vote ever received in the State of Pennsylvania by a candidate for a legislative office. I have no false modesty. I'm immensely proud of the people's confidence in me. Who wouldn't be?"

That year the Blue Eagle of the NRA was flying throughout the land under the rough and gruff leadership of General Hugh "Iron Pants" Johnson. People were beginning to get over the depression blues. But the attitude toward President Roosevelt had begun to change. Some of the people who had been scared were now talking big. Unpleasant jokes about the administration began to go the rounds. Sammy usually heard them "second hand" since he did not belong to the Duquesne Club or the Union League, the alleged sources of all such tales. "That Man in the White House" was blamed for everything. Apparently nobody remembered the depression except the people who were on WPA. Sammy didn't like this.

As he went about his district, Sammy got a considerably different picture. The plain people had substantially different ideas from those broadcast by the fancy folk. Sammy soon discovered that the people of the United States disagreed rather sharply with some opinions expressed in the leading journals of the nation. He discovered, too, that not all Democrats were down-and-outers. He found a lot of well-to-do people who were confident Roosevelt was not riding the country to perdition in a New Deal wheelbarrow.

Pennsylvania went Democratic in 1934. George H. Earle was elected Governor and Joseph F. Guffey became the junior U. S. Senator from Pennsylvania. Sammy led the field of legislative candidates in the Tenth District which, for the first time in seventy-five years, elected a Democrat to the General Assembly at Harrisburg. Glassport business men arranged a banquet for their fellow townsman. It was held in the American Legion Hall on December 27, 1934. State Chairman, David L. Lawrence, who was Secretary-designate of the Commonwealth in the cabinet of the new Governor, made the principal speech. He gave his word that Democrats would fulfill every pledge made in the party's platform. He also explained the problems facing the newly-elected legislators. Sammy's friend, Judge Ralph H. Smith of the Common Pleas Court of Allegheny County, spoke with an eloquence that the new legislator envied. State Senator George Rankin, Jr., and the three other legislators-to-be also were heard. Senator Rankin made a statement Sammy would have cause to remember more than ten years later

"I predict for Attorney Weiss nothing short of a seat on the Allegheny County judicial bench in the not many distant years."

When Sammy went home that night, he confided to Jean that he thought he was going to like politics.

"I was afraid you would," she told him.

"Why?" Sammy inquired, amazed at Jean's change of attitude.

"Only this, Sam," she answered, "I'm afraid you might like politics for politics' sake. I know you've got to like what you are doing or you can't do a good job. No one can. Only it might be a good idea, before you go to Harrisburg, to drive over and see Mrs. Bruneleski. And don't forget Pat Finnerty."

He nodded. Then he started to pick up a book, but put it down again.

"Honey," he assured her, "I won't forget. To make sure I won't, I've got a little notebook in which I wrote down the things Joe Witkowski told me. I may not turn out to be the best legislator in Pennsylvania, but I'll be the guy who tried the hardest."

She kissed him.

"I earned that one," he said gravely. "And darling, if I can do the things I hope to do, Mrs. Weiss has a big kissing schedule for the next few years."

Jean laughed contentedly. "I'll try to keep up with you."

Whether or not Sammy made history in Harrisburg-and there are many who believe that he did-he certainly made considerable progress. He also made a lot of friends and some implacable enemies. Of the friends he thought a great deal. He tried to avoid making enemies, but he never worried about those who opposed him because of the legislation he sponsored successfully. And he never nursed any grudges against those who fought him and cordially disliked him because of legislation which he sponsored and which they defeated.

Even those who did not see eye to eye with Sammy had to admit that he never flinched. A political bigwig of his own party once let it be known around Harrisburg that he thought Sammy Weiss wasn't playing "according to the rules of the game." This nettled Sammy. He went looking for said bigwig. He found him in the lobby of the Penn-Harris Hotel.

"I understand you're sore at me," he said. "I want you to know I can take it-fairly and squarely." His critic whirled about and stood back, looking at Sammy belligerently. He was head and shoulders taller than the little Glassport legislator.

"The only reason I bothered to look you up," Sammy continued, "is because you are making the statement that I don't play 'according to the rules.' Mister, I won't stand for that. I always play according to the rules, and don't you forget it-whether the rules are political rules, football rules or Marquis of Queensbury rules."

A crowd gathered immediately. There was no doubt that Sammy was fighting mad. They will tell you in Harrisburg today, as a sore of legend, that the big fellow blanched and hurried off. Nobody ever again heard him criticize the sportsmanship of Assemblyman Weiss. He did take every occasion to oppose Sammy, but only in matters of legislation. Sammy was the first to admit his right in this matter, even if he didn't agree with the principle-or lack of it-which caused the opposition.

Pennsylvania, like every other state of the Union, was moving forward in a great period of change in those stirring days of 1935. The galleries of the Pennsylvania General Assembly were invariably crowded. They were packed on the night of January 28, 1935, as Democratic Governor George H. Earle outlined the program of social welfare and labor legislation he wanted enacted. Astute political observers could see the fine political hand of State Democratic Chairman David L. Lawrence at work behind the scenes. It was plain that Democratic members of the Assembly knew they were expected to make good their party's campaign pledges. The State Senate adjourned that night at 10:32 p.m., but the lower house continued in session to consider a mass of bills.

Sammy was loaded for bear that night. He was on his feet often. He introduced a measure to regulate the procedure of election return boards. Then he introduced a joint resolution authorizing the Attorney General of the State to arrange a conference to devise a means of combatting criminals. Since crime was on the increase, the Weiss measure was timely.

Then he put three more bills in the hopper. The press corps from his home county, especially from Pittsburgh, took due note of his activity. Not only did he advance much worth-while legislation, but he clearly did not have selfish political motives. By the time Pennsylvania was ready to celebrate Washington's birthday that year, he had twenty-five pieces of legislation going through the Assembly. One of his bills brought about an investigation of the Allegheny County Relief Board, an inquiry which made headlines for weeks. Sammy sat on the probe board in the Court House at Pittsburgh. It developed that some people were paying for their new automobiles with relief money. The investigation cleared up quite a mess.

There were lots of newspaper stories, and Sammy will tell you quite frankly, "I loved it." Newspapermen have never found him uncooperative. Sammy never pretended that he didn't want publicity. Sure, he could get along without it, but he doesn't care about it half as much as those prima donnas who go around breaking cameras, hoping all the time the photographer has a spare bog.

At any rate, one feature story declared in its subhead, "Weiss Proving Tornado Legislator, Bills Receiving Wide Recognition, Majority Expected to Become Law."

There is no doubt about the fact that Sammy was as determined, as noticeable, and as active as a tornado. When he felt any slackening of his zeal, he turned to the little black notebook. It had all the inspirational ammunition he needed. With relish, he went right after the oppressive 1834 law which made it possible for people to be imprisoned for unpaid taxes, following it with a measure to liberalize the workmen's compensation law of the state, and then trained both barrels of his gun on the biggest opposition any legislator could select. He took on Pennsylvania's Aldermen, Squires, and Constables in a battle which many of his own party hastened to assure him was "political suicide."

Sammy used an expression which was to make history in a very tight international situation about a decade later. Like General Terry McAuliffe, he simply said, "Nuts." Only at that time America wasn't on the spot. Or so it seemed to everybody. But Sammy didn't take things for granted. He knew that Pennslyvania-like the rest of the country-needed improvement.

He called Jean the night before he was to put in his "Squires Bill."

"Do you think it's the right thing to do, Sam?" she asked.

"Yes, I do," he told her in the direct way he has when he is determined about something.

He sounded so determined she wondered if even a political firing squad could have shaken him from his intention. For a moment she was tempted to tease him by saying "Hold off," but she discarded the idea because she knew he was in deadly earnest. To Sammy on the other end of the wire, she seemed to be debating. He coughed and was about to speak. So she gave him her answer quickly. "Well, for goodness sake, honey. Go ahead and do it," she said. That was what he wanted to hear.

When the bill calling for the abolishment of what Sammy labelled the "Squires' Racket" was deposited in the hopper, a storm broke around him. He told Bill Dressler of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, "I should have brought my football helmet with me."

"Maybe," said Dressler, who knew what Sammy was in for, "you shoulda stood in bed!"

They both laughed, remembering the famous story attributed to "Uncle Mike" Jacobs, who is supposed to have grudgingly ventured forth on an extremely cold day to a highly touted football game. The teams fumbled often and scored not at all. The weather was bonefreezing. There was a huge crowd and it looked as though leaving the scene of the spectacle was going to be as difficult and uncomfortable as the getting there had been. After reviewing these misfortunes loudly, Jacobs is said to have dolefully concluded, "I shoulda stood in bed."

At any rate, Sammy was not doleful. He was destined to be very uncomfortable on a number of occasions in the immediate future. But if the prospect disturbed him, he gave no outward sign of it.

Knowing the Squires' "cost racket" to be one of the greatest abuses under Pennsylvania's minor judiciary fee system, Sammy did not propose to waste an opportunity, regardless of what anyone said or did. In his own home county, the racket had been exposed time and again, but up to now nothing had been done about it. As originally introduced, the bill would have regulated Justices of the Peace and Alderman of the entire state. In Sam's own county, it would have meant a savings of more than $100,000 to the taxpayers every year by preventing Squires from placing the costs of "dismissed" cases on the county. Several Squires and their Constables had been sent to jail in the months preceding for collecting "costs" in fake prosecutions. This was accomplished by billing the County Commissioners for mythical cases. Following that, another method for working "the racket" had been uncovered. This was a "double cost system" under which defendants in actual cases were discharged upon payment of the costs which then were collected a second time from the county. Under the measure which Sammy introduced, costs in discharged cases were to be assessed against either the defendant or the plaintiff. It then would be up to the Alderman or Squire to collect them rather than simply bill the county. Sammy was also convinced that his bill would cut down unfounded prosecutions and in this, as well as other phases of the measure, many members of the legal profession agreed. Prosecutors saw in it a sound method of stopping the rightly-styled "frivolous" prosecutions which clutter up court dockets and make unnecessary work for the Grand Jury.

Even though the newspapers enthusiastically supported the bill which he had directed against the Squires' Racket, Sammy soon learned that he was up against powerful political pressure from the members of the minor judiciary. Justices of the Peace, Alderman, and Constables massed their forces for an attack on his measure when it came up in the House. As he watched and listened it became more and more apparent to him that he was going to hear the death knell sounded on that particular piece of legislation.

However, there was nothing quick about the process. The forces which were at work knew they would be successful and felt they could bide their time. When the measure was reported from Committee, it no longer applied to the state as a whole. Rather, it proposed to give the Allegheny County Quarter Sessions Court the power to prescribe record accounting and bookkeeping statements for Squires. The Quarter Sessions Court was also empowered to audit and examine the records of Squires at any time and to require them to file regular reports.

Shortly thereafter, Sammy met Ted Prendergast, Harrisburg correspondent and political writer for The Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph. Ted's observation bore out the young legislator's worst fears

"It looks to me like they are going to pickle it for good, Sam."

Sam had to agree. "The Squires' Lobby came to Harrisburg and gave a luncheon for some of the House members," he lamented. "Some of those who had been for the Bill in Committee seemed to see things differently after that. It's sort of disillusioning."

He was not only disappointed, but hurt by the fact that so many of his fellow legislators were not moved more by the worth of the bill than by the influence of the Squires. The "about face" of some of his colleagues really grieved him.

As he raced up and down the Hill in Harrisburg to watch all the bills he had on the legislative fires, Sammy probably had as many people watching him as if he were still playing quarterback for Duquesne. But a large number of them were not cheering. Some, indeed, would have felt very much relieved if he had tripped and plunged down the steep flight of stone steps which leads from the legislative halls. Fortunately, he was too busy to notice a lot of this sideplay and it is doubtful if he would have been disturbed by anything short of gun-play.

Then the bill came up in the House for second reading. Representative Joseph A. McArdle of Pittsburgh moved to recommit it to the Judiciary General Committee for possible amendments.

Sammy opposed the motion. "Mr. McArdle has no amendment in mind," he stated bluntly.

McArdle insisted he was for all possible amendments.

McArdle was defeated on a roll call which split the Allegheny County delegation wide open. Of the twenty-seven members from Allegheny County, McArdle drew the votes of John J. Baker, Dr. David M. Boies, Homer S. Brown, Frank A. Coolahan, Lawrence P. Keenan, Joseph F. Piole, Frank J. Zapalla, Howard R. Pearson, John E. McElroy and Dr. George A. Sarraf.

Immediately upon announcement of the vote, Piole arose to present amendments restoring the bill to its original form, affecting the entire state except Philadelphia. The exception of Philadelphia caused Sammy to inquire "whether Philadelphia is affiliated with the United States of America inasmuch as, apparently, it is only nominally a part of the Sovereign State of Pennsylvania."

Republican Floor Leader Elwood J. Turner then moved to table the bill, a motion that permits no debate. In the subsequent roll call, the bill was tabled by a vote of 101 to 72.

Sammy did not give up. He made a renewed fight for his measure. Once again he was defeated, but he made good his promise to give the issue "an airing on the House floor." The Monday following his second defeat, he took the floor of the House and declared

"My bill was reported to the floor by the House Committee on Counties, but when it reached Second Reading one day before the measure had a chance for final action, it was sent back to Committee by a vote of 127 to 35. I charge the bill was returned to Committee for pickling while a full membership of the Counties Committee was not present. When the bill was first reported to the floor, those who were present voted unanimously for it. The Squires' Lobby then came down to Harrisburg and gave a luncheon for some of the House members. The bill has been pickled because of the direct influence of the Squires' Lobby."

He pleaded with the Committee on Counties to report the bill. In criticism of the trumped-up excuse of "further study" under which the bill, very short in itself, had been recommitted, Sammy said

"I wonder if the many bills consisting of 100 pages or more that have been railroaded through this House were given as much study as this bill. I wonder if many of the other Legislators who voted to recommit this bill know what this racket is costing the taxpayers of their respective counties.

"If those of my colleagues in Allegheny County who opposed it do not know-and I believe they know very well-I can tell them that the Squires' Fee Racket has cost the taxpayers of Allegheny County more than $600,000 from 1932 to 1936."

The House refused to bring his measure out for a vote. Sammy accepted his defeat philosophically. He had many measures in the mill, and he had to turn a larger share of his energies and attention to them, now that he knew there was no hope for the Squires' bill. While he would have preferred to have been successful in eradicating the abuses of the fee system, he knew he was butting his head against a stone wall.

Through 1935 and 1936 the people back home were thoroughly aware that they had a fighting Representative in Harrisburg. Others were equally aware and somewhat irritated by his very active presence in the legislative halls. When his fight was on to liberalize workmen's compensation in Pennsylvania, he fought tooth and nail in behalf of his measure and won it in his second term. The people sent him back in the election of November, 1936, with the largest vote ever cast for a Pennsylvania Legislator. On June 6, 1937, Governor George H. Earle signed the Weiss Liberal Workmen's Compensation Law that brought Pennsylvania from 36th to 4th in rank in the nation in compensation payments. It was not an easy victory. There was plenty of opposition from some industrialists and manufacturers. But the Democrats were then following the liberal tenets of Franklin D. Roosevelt, and the measure went through.

In the following year the Democrats were still very much in power, but the primary election in the spring upset the applecart. Everybody wanted to be the next Democratic candidate for governor. Newspaper rumor stories mentioned David L. Lawrence, the Secretary of the Commonwealth and the Party's State Chairman; U. S. Senator Joseph F. Guffey; and Charles J. Margiotti, then Attorney General in Governor Earle's cabinet. Others were mentioned, but these were said to be the leading contenders. Sammy looked on from the sidelines. But he could tell there was going to be trouble. And sure enough there was. A primary fight developed among the Democrats, and the hatchet-men of both sides went to work on each other. The Republicans sat back, saved the newspaper clippings, and then called for Grand Jury action against certain Democratic bigwigs, based mainly on Margiotti's charges of graft and corruption in high places.

A cry went forth for a Special Session of the Legislature at which the Democrats could demonstrate that the Republicans were playing politics. Nevertheless, Sammy knew that a "whitewash" by the Legislature was not the answer and would not be accepted by the public. He opposed the Special Session. It was held and paved the way for a thumping defeat of the Democratic Party in the November elections. Judge Arthur H. James defeated the Democratic nominee, Charles Alvin Jones, for the Governorship. Sammy did not stand for re-election to the Legislature that year. He went back to the practice of law and did not seek office again until 1940, when he ran for Congress with Roosevelt's third term ticket.

Sammy had an excellent record behind him and memories which furnished many a fireside chat with Jean. She was glad to have him home for a while. Whenever he showed signs of restlessness, she would remind him that he had done most of the things he had set out to do. The Weiss Compensation Bill paid widows and workmen for life and, for the first time in history, benefitted the families of volunteer firemen. He was the author of the Pennsylvania Election Code and many election reforms. He had sponsored the permanent registration law for boroughs and townships. He fought for and supported the Pennsylvania Teachers' Tenure Act, legislation controlling hours of employment for firemen in first and third class cities, minimum wages for women and children, pensions for the blind, repeal of the industrial police law which had made possible the vicious Coal and Iron Police system, the miners' certificate bill, the child welfare act, the State Unemployment Law, and many other progressive measures. He fought for these measures because he did not forget the quietly desperate life stories of the working people who were his neighbors in Glassport.

Most sharply etched in his mind were the two occasions when he could not keep his thoughts on any legislation, no matter how important. Remembering, he would take Jean by the hand and they would walk up the stairs to stand and look down on the sleeping faces of Jimmy and Joy Weiss. Both of them had been born while he was n the State Legislature. Joy had come the first year. Her approaching birth had created a most trying situation for Sammy. He was helpless. Here was something out of his hands. He could not quarterback. But he did whistle-to keep his courage up.

Sammy rushed home from Harrisburg on December 1, 1935. Naturally he wanted to be near Jean while she was in the hospital.

A pretty dark-skinned little girl was born on the following day at McKeesport's Painter Memorial Hospital. But while Sammy was waiting for Joy's arrival, he was unable to view the world with any appreciable calm. Everbody at the hospital thought he was having the baby. When he was finally able to see Jean and the little girl, he felt he had it all over the President of the United States, or for that matter, the President of the whole world.

"Honey," Jean told him, "you've just become the father of a very live issue. . . "

Sammy was still in the Legislature, three years later, when his second child was born. That morning the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette carried a story with a bin headline announcing that Governor George H. Earle had called a Special Session of the Legislature. It was July 25, 1938. Even after he learned he was the father of a boy, Sammy could not shake off a shadowy feeling of disquiet which lurked in the back of his mind.

When he saw Jean and knew she was all right, even after he had seen his son, Sammy could not find that old feeling of unfettered joy which he had known in the past. He was not depressed. Could any man have been? And nothing could have lessened his concern about Jean. Only, mingled with his pride and pleasure and relief that all had gone well, there was a cloud. He did not like the idea of the Special Session, called to prevent a Grand Jury probe.

He was absent from the Special Session for the first three days, making frequent visits to Jean's hospital. It was Jean who sent him packing back to Harrisburg, the third day. She knew he had something on his mind. She also knew what it was. But every time she tried to discuss politics during his visits he resolutely changed the subject. This consideration touched her, because she knew he was bursting to unburden himself.

The third morning after the arrival of his son, James Edgar Weiss, Sammy was sitting in Jean's room. Every now and then he would let a frown spread across his forehead. He unwittingly gave himself away when, in the course of telling Jean about the messages of congratulations, he described a "Special Delivery" from a relative as a "Special Session" letter. That did it.

"Sam Weiss, " Jean said, sitting up in bed so suddenly she startled him and even surprised herself, "you are not going to sit here and suffer any longer. That Special Session has you thoroughly distracted. You don't like it in the first place. But in the second place, you are busting to attend it. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, but. . . " he protested.

"Then you'll take the two o'clock train."

Jean settled back against the pillows.

The new father said nothing. Somehow that seemed the best thing to do, although he will tell you now that there have been few occasions in his life when he could not think of something to say.

When he arrived in Harrisburg, Sammy dashed up to the Capitol as though he were trying to set a new record as a ten-second man. The Special Session had been called but he told Democratic administration leaders that "a big mistake is being made in attempting to enact gag laws. I know and you know that the attitude of the Republican Party in urging this Special Session is purely political. But I am opposed to legislation to stop the probe. The legislation which you propose to enact to interfere with a Grand Jury investigation is unconstitutional and the Supreme Court will back me up on that."

He was supported in his contention by the Honorable Charles Alvin Jones, then the Democratic nominee for Governor and now a member of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania. Homer S. Brown, outstanding Negro member of the Legislature from Pittsburgh, joined in their protest. Sammy gave his reasons at length. It is interesting to match his views with those later expressed by the Supreme Court in declaring the Grand Jury gag laws-enacted despite all the protests -to be unconstitutional. The opinions were almost identical.

Sammy's warning to the party leaders was similar to those warnings of a wise member of the party-Allegheny County Commissioner John J. Kane. Later events proved that the people were not in sympathy with gag laws, regardless of whether they are passed to fight political campaign charges or for less opportunistic reasons. When November, 1938, came around, it was a day of cold and steady rain in Allegheny County. There was snow in some parts of the state. Yet, in spite of these serious handicaps to voting, there was a great outpouring to the polls throughout the length and breadth of Pennsylvania. When the voting was over, it was uncomfortably evident that the Democratic Party had lost its power in the state. Only one area remained a Democratic stronghold. That was Sammy's home County of Allegheny. 

The citizens of Pennsylvania's Thirty-first Congressional District probably had no idea that they were about to do anything unusual when they went to the polls on November 5, 1940. But they did.

They sent Samuel Arthur Weiss to the Congress of the United States with the largest electoral vote ever cast for this particular office in the history of Pennsylvania. In fact, they gave him more votes than Roosevelt. With this overwhelming endorsement, the voters unleashed a new force on the national scene. They had chosen to be represented in the 77th Congress by a one-man delegation who sometimes seemed to be a composite of Gundaar Haag, Fiorello La Guardia, "Doe" Blanchard and Daniel Webster.

Franklin D. Roosevelt also shattered precedent on that same occasion. They did it together-he and Sammy-in the Thirty-first Pennsylvania District. But it is not true, as some of Sammy's loyal supporters claim, that Roosevelt rode in for a third term on Sammy's coat-tails. It was only in the Thirty-first District that this occurred. While the circumstance clearly set Congressman Weiss apart from other Democratic office holders, Sammy didn't lose his sense of balance... but his face turned red the first time he called on President Roosevelt. Senator Joseph F. Guffey introduced him with other members of the Pennsylvania delegation.

"Oh yes," laughed Roosevelt, twisting that famous cigarette holder so that the ashes dropped expertly on the carpet, "this is the man who put me in office for a Third Term!"

Sammy squirmed. He was sure his face looked like the glowing end of FDR's cigarette. Everbody laughed, of course. He managed a smile, but before he unlimbered his tongue, Roosevelt went on.

"What's the matter, Mr. Congressman, don't you like to be a coat-tail rider" Roosevelt turned to Senator Guffey, "The Senator doesn't mind! Do you Joe?"

"I didn't think there was any more room, Mr. President," said Sammy quickly.

Roosevelt roared.

In the days ahead, Sammy was to come to the attention of Franklin D. Roosevelt in more serious and more useful ways than one which was simply the result of an unusual election "score."

Representative Weiss got his first look at the House of Representatives during the Christmas holiday of 1940. He had heard it was the largest legislative chamber in the world. He found out later that it was 193 feet in length and had a width of 93 feet, but when he and Jean looked in from the rear that memorable last week in 1940 it seemed bigger than some football stadiums he had played. He knew he was in a sort of Rose Bowl of Government now. His stomach seemed to sense what was going through his mind. Jean watched him grow tense as his eyes traveled about the big chamber. He told her later that he was asking himself why he had wanted to leave his comfortable little bailiwick for this. This was no place to fumble. He hoped he wouldn't. Jean squeezed his hand.

"Remember that old football saying. When in doubt, kick."

Sammy laughed. He felt better. He always did when he knew Jean was with him in the things he did. Just knowing she was there meant a lot.

"I think they have a different rule here, Jean," he said. "When in doubt here, they pass."

In better spirits, they tried to find Pennsylvania's coat of arms among the painted glass panels which make up the ceiling of the House chamber.

"There it is, Sammy!" Jean pointed proudly and with so much enthusiasm that a tourist couple thought that an American eagle must be flying about inside the Capitol.

Jean was on hand when Sammy took his oath. The children, Jimmy and Joy, were at home with Jean's folks. Sammy was immensely proud when he joined the 77th Congress of the United States of America.

When he rejoined Jean after the ceremony, his voice was huskier than usual as he said, "I'll thank God every day that I live that I'm an American."

Jean cried a little. She was capable of deep emotion and she had an intense feeling about all that affected Sammy. Looking at this man for whom the gruelling work of many years was repaid in the honor he now enjoyed, she said to herself, "Dear God, please help him to succeed. And make them kind to him."

By "them" she meant those who occupied the seats that made up the membership of the lower House. She could not know that Sammy would four years later find himself in a battle to keep his seat in this chamber. When that day would come, she would remember this first day and recall how her husband had looked.

Now they were being congratulated by fellow Democrats. Congressman Herman P. Eberharter of Pittsburgh was introducing Sammy and Mrs. Weiss to the men who would sit near him in the House. He met, for the first time, Michael Feighan of Ohio, Jerry Voorhis of California, Al Thomas of Texas, Mike Bradley of Pennsylvania, "Pat" Boland of Pennsylvania, Mike Kerwin of Ohio, Jos. Casey of Massachusetts, Majority Leader John McCormack of Massachusetts, Mike Madden of Indiana, Charley La Follette of Indiana, "Dean" A. J. Sabath of Illinois, Cliff Woodrum of Virginia, Dan McGehee of Mississippi, William M. Colmer of Mississippi and Al Gore of Tennessee.

Shortly thereafter, Sammy guided Jean to the Hall of Statuary (once the Hall of Representatives-the hallowed spot in which such mighty figures as Clay once stood and spoke.) After she looked about her, Jean turned to her husband wonderlingly. She was about to ask, "You're not picking out a place for your statue already" but she refrained. She knew a joke would have been out of place. It would have hurt him. They continued to walk among the great men of times long gone. The only sound was their footsteps as they looked up at Roger Williams, Sam Houston, Robert R. Livingston, Daniel Webster, Andrew Jackson, Stephen F. Austin, Ethan Allen, and the others.

"Jean," he said, almost fiercely. "I'll never be like these men. I never expect to be. But I can perhaps do something here to show how proud I am of my country. There isn't much I can do, but with what ability I have I want to help all the people I can. I want you to be able to tell our children that their father never thought he was a great man-that he only tried to be a good one."

She nodded.

"I'll never be a statue in here-or anywhere else, I suppose-but I'll be alive every minute I'm a member of Congress."

He turned abruptly and offered her his arm.

Getting installed in the old House Office Building occupied most of Sammy's time during the first week of January, 1941, the fateful year that was to see the nation plunged into war. From his Glassport law office, he had brought two capable young ladies, the Shyosky sisters, Ann and Alice, leaving the Pittsburgh office in the charge of Miss Margaret Homol. As usual, he rushed about the Capitol in furious endeavor. Everywhere he sought information.

"You know," an old-timer told a colleague, "we have a freshman Congressman who isn't acting like a new broom-he's a vacuum sweeper."

Sammy was just that. He pored over the Congressional Directory as though it were as fascinating as a detective yarn. He brought it home with him at night. Finally Jean issued an ultimatum, when a week had passed with hardly more than "yes" and "no" replies to her attempts at conversation. "If you're not memorizing that book for your maiden speech, Mr. Weiss," she said, "I'd appreciate an appointment with you to discuss the affairs of the Weiss family. Do you think you could squeeze me in just before the last interview-oh, say about five o'clock next Tuesday?"

Sammy put the Directory down. He looked more than a little abashed. She recognized the look. Only once before had he worn it. That time he had been too busy in Harrisburg to remember their wedding anniversary.

"Honey!" he exclaimed, jumping up and pulling her to her feet. "I could squeeze you any time-not just between a couple of constituents. But don't you think that would be sort of public?"

"Anywhere," she answered, contentedly, "even on the Capitol steps, just so long as you remember you have a Mrs. Weiss."

". . .and two swell kids back in Glassport," he added. "I know, honey. Maybe I don't look like I'm thinking of you or them. But I am. There's nothing as important to me as your happiness. Only I think I've been elected to one of the most important jobs in the world. But I can't-I wouldn't-want to forget that there are men and women in Europe who would die-yes, die gladly-not so much for the honor of my job, but for the privilege I have of serving other people. . . people who need help desperately. Over there they can kill men because they are Jews. But in this country the people can elect me. . . me, a Polish Jew, to public office. My God, this is a great country."

Jean was crying quiet tears. She understood perfectly. She was happier for him and sorrier than she could tell him. Sorry because she could not smooth the way ahead for him. Somehow she knew it was not going to be smooth.

For a long while neither of them spoke. Finally, Jean said

"Sam, would you mind very much if I went back home. . . to Glassport? "

He didn't answer at once.

"Why?"

"I don't like Washington. I don't think I'll ever like it."

She looked at him. He nodded and she went on.

"I'm uncomfortable here. I'd rather be with the children. Why, Sam.. . " and she stopped with a look of perplexity on her face, "Sam, they rush around here exchanging calling cards with people they don't know. People even invite perfect strangers to dinner because somebody else told them it's the 'right' thing to do."

"I don't think you've been here long enough to form a sound opinion," he protested. Even as he said it, he knew in his heart that she was right.

"Sam, I've been here long enough to know that if we stayed a hundred years, I still wouldn't like it. I'm not going to stay in Washington a moment longer than necessary. Jimmy and Joy need me back home. And I want them more than I'll ever need an invitation from people who chase Dukes when they ought to be thanking God we don't have any in this country."

That was how Sammy came to be a Washington bachelor and to live with Max Baer, National Director of the B'nai B'rith, in the High Tower Apartments. He flew back and forth between Washington and Glassport every week end. The Pennsylvania Central Airlines made him an Honorary Pilot and Ship's Captain, and he came to know most of the stewardesses and pilots by their first names. Fortunately, Glassport is quite close to the Allegheny County Airport. Sammy was usually at home with Jimmy and Joy and watching Jean fix dinner in little more than two hours after he left the House Office Building.

It was in one of the corridors of the House Office Building that Sammy first met Representative John Elliot Rankin. Sammy was standing with a group of House members who were preparing to go to lunch when the Congressman from Tupelo, Mississippi, bore down on them and began to pass the time of day. In the course of the conversation-dominated almost completely by the Mississippian-Representative Rankin made it plain that he didn't care for Jews or Negroes. Sammy didn't let him get away with that. He sailed right into Rankin and his peculiar brand of Americanism.

He concluded, somewhat to the bewilderment of the Mississippian, with this statement:

"Congressman Rankin, I'm mightly glad to have met you."

Here he paused briefly. The other legislators could not understand his apparent change of heart. But when he continued, they fully understood.

"Yes, I'm mighty glad to have met you before lunch, because now I have merely lost my appetite. . . Good day."

Sammy turned on his heel and strode down the corridor to his office. He was not altogether pleased with himself, but he felt that his restraint and temper had been goaded beyond endurance. He knew he did not hate Rankin, because it was not in him to hate anyone, no matter what the provocation. But he was sure that he did not like Rankin and that Rankin wasn't likely to forget what he had told him. About that he was not concerned. What concerned him most was the unceremonious way he had left the other four Congressmen with whom he had intended to lunch.

Sammy made his maiden speech in the House. It was in support of his bill to give free postage to soldiers, sailors and marines. The measure met with popular support and was passed with no dissenting votes.

He busied himself with the needs of his constituents, with speeches before various groups, and especially with efforts to make happier the lot of draftees and their families. Neither Sammy or Jean had ever before known there could be so much heartbreak in the world. The sufferings of separated families bore down on them much of the time. They did what they could. Sammy's home telephone bill began to look like an income tax payment by a war tycoon. With the telephone bills and the cost of travel between Washington and Glassport, they found themselves doing without more and more that they had formerly enjoyed. Jean told Sam, not complainingly, but in explanation of the depleted exchequer, "being a Congressman is a costly honor, my dear old pal." And it was. Costly in money, time and physical wear. Sammy wondered sometimes who thought up those jokes about how little Congressmen did. Certainly there could be no ex-Congressmen among war-time gag writers. Sammy guessed that all ex-Congressmen were in the poor house. "But try and tell that to a constituent," Jean reminded him.

"Perhaps our social range will extend from the White House to the poor house," Sammy laughed ruefully.

Month followed month after Sammy's clash with Representative Rankin in the corridor. If the two happened to meet on occasion they merely nodded and that was the full extent of the relationship. Of course there were many occasions when Sammy heard the cornpone-and-honey voice of the man from Tupelo sounding forth on his democracy. He always made it plain "Ah doan' yiel' to no man in mah love fo' this grea-a-at dee-mocracy." He always gave this as a peroration, it seemed, before launching a tirade against Negroes and Jews.

On June 4, 1941, there occurred an incident which so affected Sammy that he was unable to listen to the broad tones of the Mississippian without a cold rage flowing through his veins. Everyone said afterward that Congressman Rankin was not directly to blame. Some argued that tragic outcomes are to be expected from wrong principles and that a man is responsible for his own actions and his words whether they cause harm immediately or three hundred years after his death.

It was a typical June day in Washington when Rankin arose to speak on the war issue. It did not take him long to reach a conclusion which was characteristic of his utterances at the time. "Wall Street and a little group of our international Jewish brethren," he said, "are still attempting to harass the President of the United States and the Congress of the United States into plunging us into war unprepared." He continued in this vein, adding that the same "international bankers" feared the prospect of peace and had, the day before, held a rally in Wall Street to seek continuance of the war. It was his conclusion that the United States should not try to block a peace settlement under which Great Britain would retain her empire and her Navy.

Many members of the House were shocked by these intolerant utterances. As for Sammy, he was outraged. He sought to obtain the floor. As he did so, he saw that another member of the House was bent on the same goal. Knowing the ability and House prestige of Representative M. Michael Edelstein, he was not regretful that it was the New Yorker who was recognized. A few minutes later, Sammy was to be tormented by one of those great "if's" which frequently loom large in the affairs of men.

As Rankin made his plea for what amounted to peace at any price, Representative Edelstein arose and obtained permission to speak for one minute. Looking toward Rankin with a gaze which seemed, to Sammy, one of mingled pity and denunciation, Mr. Edelstein said:

"Mr. Speaker, Hitler started out by speaking about 'Jewish brethren.' It is becoming the play and the work of those people who want to demagogue to speak about 'Jewish brethren' and 'international bankers.'

"The last speaker, speaking about international bankers coupled them with our Jewish brethren. The fact of the matter is that the number of Jewish bankers in the United States is infinitesmal. It is also a fact that the meeting which took place yesterday on the steps of the Sub-Treasury was entirely controlled by persons other than Jewish bankers.

"I deplore that any time anything happens, whether it be for a war policy or against a war policy, men in this House and outside this House attempt to use the Jews as their scapegoats. I say it is unfair and I say it is un-American. As a member of this House I deplore such allegations, because we are living in a democracy. All men are created equal, regardless of race or color, and whether a man be Jew or Gentile, he may think what he deems fit."

While Edelstein spoke, it was necessary, several times, for Speaker Rayburn to rap for order. The New Yorker was heard clearly. Sammy looked up at the press gallery on one occasion and found that there was intense interest. As the gavel of the Speaker demanded order, and some members were attempting to interrupt, Sammy studied the faces of the men about him. Most of them were honest, sincere Americans. They believed what Edelstein was saying. A few were either, opportunists or bigots, or both. He could not quite decide. Then, looking at the intense face and listening to the urgent tones of "Mike" Edelstein, he heard the voice of the Speaker finally reminding that the minute requested by Edelstein had passed.

"The gentleman's time has expired," the voice said.

Edelstein sat down, rather abruptly it seemed. It became quickly obvious that he was ill and those close to him helped him to the lobby. Sammy rushed out. Mike Edelstein had been laid on the floor. It was apparent from his eyes that he had been a very sick man for some time. House members stood back, conversing in low tones while a physician made his examination. Then the Doctor stood up. It was quiet in the high-ceilinged room. In the House Chamber, it was also still. The Doctor told Sammy and the others, "I'm sorry. He's dead. "

Looking down on the earnest, kindly features, Sammy was swept by a wave of pity. It was pity for the man who was dead and, yes, pity for the thoughts and the cruel words which had done this thing.

And then there came an all-consuming rage. Sammy lashed out with his tongue.

"Don't let that low. . . " He was quite unable to express the turbulent feelings which possessed him. But those around him knew how he felt and they hurried to take him from the scene. Dean Sabath put an arm about him and with Congressman Pat Boland and Mike Bradley and Pittsburgh's Tommy Scanlon, they walked far down the corridor and out where Sammy could look off in the distance toward the Washington monument. The sun was shining and the grass looked greener than ever. The day was just as bright as Mike Edelstein had left it when he walked in the door that morning. And the affairs of men were as dark as the sorry debate which had cost him his life.

None of the five men spoke a word. None of them needed to. There was nothing any of them could do for Mike Edelstein or the world -- except fight on. There were a lot of men in that Congress who could and would and did do that.

War was coming. War involving the United States. It was distant, but coming. The House Foreign Affairs Committee held long hearings in the elaborate Ways and Means Committee Room of the New House Office Building. The subject was H. R. 1776, providing Lend-Lease for Britain, Greece, China, or any other nation that might be attacked by dictatorships. This was the bill that had been shaped by President Roosevelt during his December cruise in the Caribbean. Wendell Wilkie, Republican Presidential candidate of the previous fall, gave his support "in principle" but suggested modifications . . . "a time-limit on the power granted." Former President Herbert Hoover urged that the bill "specifically" define what powers were granted. District Attorney Thomas E. Dewey of New York denounced the bill. He said it was likely "to bring an end to free government."

On the Democratic side, there was also opposition. It was led by Senator Burton K. Wheeler of Montana who described the bill as part of "the New Deal triple A foreign policy . . . plow under every fourth American boy." He charged that H. R. 1776, if passed, "would lead to war."

Secretary of State Cordell Hull explained the "new American foreign policy" to the House Foreign Affairs Committee. He said, "There was a time for neutrality, and now is the time for self-defense."

Watching the course of the war in Europe, Sammy knew that his country's involvement was now a matter of no more than months.

Perhaps Lend-Lease would make a difference for the Allies so that the United States would be spared the horror of another world conflict. He earnestly hoped so. Sammy could never think of war without seeing the tearful faces of mothers in Glassport as they said goodbye to their sons who were leaving presumably for a year of military training.

When the summer of 1941 moved into the fall, he knew that neither Lend-Lease nor any desperate measure or statement by President Roosevelt would now save those mothers from the agonies that only mothers know in war. He said as much to Jean, to whom every problem presented itself in terms of Joy and Jimmy and other mothers' children.

"I'm afraid there is no help for it now," Sammy told her.

Several months passed, but when the radio blared forth the news of Pearl Harbor, it seemed to both of them, listening and horrified, that Sammy's premonition had occurred only the other evening.

Sammy sat in stunned silence for a long time. "Now we must all do our utmost and our best-all of us." He was thinking aloud. His neat statement made Jean look up. Under other conditions it would have been amusing.

"My country has been attacked," he mused. It was so characteristic of him to view the disaster in personal terms.

"And my country, too, Sammy," she reminded him gently. "You don't have to fight this one alone, dear. There'll be 140 million people on your side."

"I didn't mean that the way it sounded," he explained gravely. "What a horrible thing for them to do to this country which helped the Japanese people so much. All those boys lying dead out there in Hawaii. "

He jumped up and started pacing back and forth.

"Now I've got to see about a plane reservation back to Washington. I'm sure the President will ask for a war declaration tomorrow. "

There were no planes out of the Allegheny County Airport to Washington that night of December 7, 1941. Sammy became more desperate as the hours passed. He called the other members of the delegation from Allegheny County. They were all making frantic efforts to get back to Washington. Only Herman Eberharter, who had remained in the Capitol City because he had a permanent residence there, was not involved in the search for quick transportation. Finally they were able to board a train, and arrived in Washington for roll call Monday. There was an historic joint session at which President Roosevelt, looking tired and worn from his night-long vigil, made the speech which contained the historic description of the Japanese sneak-attack, "a deed which will live in infamy."

The Congress voted for a Declaration of War against the Imperial Japanese Government. There was only one "nay"-the vote of Miss Jeanette Rankin of Montana who resisted all efforts to have her change her vote and make it a unanimous action. She was defeated for re-election.

Sammy was sober and tired when he got home from that unforgetable session. As tangible mementos of the historic occasion, he treasures a picture of Roosevelt signing the declaration and one of the pens used by the President for his signature.

The Commanding General of the United States Army's Third Service Command, General Milton A. Reckord, was watching a professional football game from a bog in Baltimore Stadium. He was fascinated. Apparently he had forgotten his companions in the bog. Those closest heard him exclaim every now and then, "I never would have believed it! "

They, too, were enjoying the game between the Green Bay Packers and the Washington Redskins. But they were not aware of anything which had happened on the field to merit the General's absorbed attention. A lot of passes were being thrown. Play was all over the field. As a matter of fact, fifty-nine passes were tossed and forty-one completed before the game was over. The aerial play seemed to account in part for the General's absorption, but it certainly wasn't the full answer.

Finally, Admiral Emory S. Land, former head of the U. S. Maritime Commission, decided to find out. He tapped the General on the shoulder. "General, may I ask which player has caught your eye? You seem to be following somebody down there."

"Eh?" said the General, "What's that"

The question was repeated.

It brought a big smile to the face of the distinguished military gentleman.

"I'm not watching any player," he said, causing complete puzzlement to replace the intent looks worn by those around him. "You see that Referee down there? Well, General Sommervel told me he's a Congressman, and I never in my life knew one to work so hard."

The hard-working Congressman who so impressed the General was, of course, Sammy Weiss, who was putting in a quiet Sunday. Tomorrow he would be back in the Capitol, holding forth in the cloakroom of the House where his fellow Representatives would ply him with questions about the game. For his outdoor endeavor and for his willingness to champion the cause of sports against all comers,

Sammy came to be known as the Sports Congressman of the nation. His entry into the Pro Football League had been characteristically sudden . . . and unpredictable.

On September 29, 1941, Elmer Layden, then Pro Commissioner, offered Sammy a contract to finish the season replacing William "Red" Friesell, No. 1 Pro League official who had broken his leg in a game played at Shibe Park just three days before. Sammy refused, astounding even himself. He felt that he ought not to spare any time away from Washington.

Layden renewed the offer after the 1941 season closed, and finally, Sammy gave in. He signed a contract for the 1942 season and worked eleven games that year. He says it proved rougher than a filibuster over a pork-barrel issue. He had officiated previously at more than five hundred high school and college football games and had never experienced a riot or any disturbance of the peace. By contrast, he found the National Professional Football League something like the "obstacle course" on which the Army was using live ammunition.

It was at this point that Congressman Jim McGranary, now Judge McGranary of the U. S. District Court of Philadelphia, observed

"I'll bet you would find an earthquake relaxing by comparison right now."

Sammy had gone through a couple of games in which the pro boys were playing strictly for keeps. He had to agree with McGranary. When he moved a stiff shoulder, his agreement was grunted rather than spoken. Still, Sammy had to laugh in spite of his stiffness. He wise-cracked back, "To tell you the truth, Jim, I do it so I can get in the games free."

Sammy was soon telling people that "professional football is the most thrilling of all sports." He certainly was in a position to know.

But he was not quite so sure when he "worked" his first professional league game. It was an exhibition game between the Green Bay Packers and Brooklyn Dodgers played at Ebbetts Field, Brooklyn, August 30, 1942. If we were describing the experiences of anyone else, we would say that the person was a trifle timid. Sammy was never timid about anything in his life, but he was a bit nervous over a new venture. He had behind him tremendously valuable officiating experience, although some of it was not applicable to pro football. For example, he had been accustomed to the Captains' inquiring politely, "Mr. Referee, what was that" Whereupon he would explain his position and the inquiring Captains would then say, "Thank you, sir."

He quickly found that this etiquette was unheard of in the Pro League at that time. Now, this too, has changed.

When Sammy Weiss first walked his five feet, four inches of officialdom out on a pro field for the toss, he felt as if he were in a forest of California redwood trees. Looking up at some of the players was like gaping at the tower of the Empire State Building from street level. He says he thought he heard somebody say, "Is that Referee standing in a hole? " He preferred to think he had imagined the remark. As play started, he remembers asking himself where he ever got the idea that professional football was a wartime morale builder. His morale was pretty low.

It was a rough and tumble contest. Sammy blew his whistle for a rather flagrant offside. It was on the Packers, and several husky 250-pounders surrounded him, inquiring, "Why don't'cha get glasses?" or muttering "Open your eyes, Shorty." These episodes continued throughout the game. Apparently the players did not expect many penalties. When it was over, a dispirited referee walked disconsolately toward the showers. This game had not been in keeping with Sammy's idea of football. He had known that the pro game was different from high school and collegiate football. After all it had been necessary for him to memorize one hundred pages of closely printed rules in order to qualify for the Pro League. But he had never had the remotest idea that the players felt they could talk back to the referee. He was disgruntled and confused.

After he had his shower, he was getting into his shirt rather listlessly when Elmer Layden's technical advisor, Hugh "Shorty" Ray came up to him. It was Ray who had written the Pro Rules. They exchanged glances. Sammy's expression clearly indicated that he was unhappy.

"Brace up, kid," Shorty Ray told him. "You got it in you and you gotta show these big boys you're boss. After all, fellow, you are a Congressman, and they'll respect you."

It was a good point. It was just what Sammy needed and at the precise moment he needed it. He grinned.

"Yeah," he admitted, "I guess they had me a little bluffed out there today, 'Shorty.' They don't talk polite."

"You'll find they're a bunch of great guys. Rough, smart and determined to win. Once they find they aren't running you, Sammy, blowing a whistle in this League will be a real pleasure."

"I'll remember that," Sammy assured him. And he did.

The next game was between the Redskins and the Packers at Baltimore. Referee Weiss was determined to be boss from the start. He called two holding penalties and a roughing penalty "just on general principle" on the first three plays. He expected the stadium to fall on him. It didn't, but he found that the atmosphere had changed. The big boys opened their eyes. There were remarks once again. This time, with one or two exceptions, they seemed to add up to the estimate of one Redskin who confided to another, "This guy means business."

That Packers-Redskins game turned out to be one of the smoothest games Sammy ever handled in his life. It was also a great game for the spectators. His forthright whistle-tooting at the outset had established the order of things. When he trotted to the showers he felt mighty proud to be a respected member of professional football's officiating staff.

He had re-learned an old lesson. And when he went back to Glassport, he told the boys in his "gang" about it. The group which was then practicing for the coming basketball season included many youngsters since most of the older boys had gone off to the service. "Confidence in yourself is the greatest thing in life, fellows," he assured the boys. "Don't ever forget it. Frankly, I nearly did. And if I had, I would have been licked. "

He always told them just what was on his mind, and they returned the confidence. That was undoubtedly the basis of his success with this group of young Glassporters whose athletic teams he sponsored. This was the gang which compiled an excellent service record and from whose ranks five young men would never return to Glassport. That blow was still to fall. Sammy often told himself that the gang taught him as many lessons as he taught them. One thing was certain. They helped him keep his thinking down to earth. He kept them looking ahead with practical examples of the way life works.

Sammy showed his enlarged confidence before 80,000 fans at Philadelphia's Municipal Stadium when the College All-Stars played the Philadelphia Eagles. It was the biggest crowd before which Sammy had ever appeared. The Eagles won the game 16 to 9.

Doubtless the huge crowd was entirely unaware of one of the most dramatic incidents on the field that day. The first half was about to end and no penalties had been called on either side. It was at this point that Earl "Greasy" Neale, coach of the Eagles, strolled from the bench out onto the field to deride Sammy about a play. He ended his tirade by saying

"You officials loafing out there haven't called a penalty all half."

Sammy replied, "O yes, 'Greasy,' there'll be a penalty in this half. I'm calling one right now on you for fifteen yards-for being where you shouldn't be."

Back to the bench went "Greasy." Sammy watched for a minute, expecting the bench to burst into flames when "Greasy" sat down. When nothing of the sort happened, he turned back to his duties, concluding that the bench must have been wet. It was no lack of heat on "Greasy's" part.

Sammy was to find that there were some very foxy characters in the Professional League, although he contends that there was never any great guile in their foxiness. It was rather wholesome, he thinks, and calculated to keep a referee on his toes. One of the foxiest pro football players he encountered was Lee Artoe of the Chicago Bears, a great tackle and a clever one. He learned about Artoe during the memorable game at Griffith Stadium in which the Chicago Bears defeated the Washington Redskins 21 to 17. Sammy enforced a penalty, and Dr. Danny Fortman, Bear Captain, hotly contested the ruling. The little Congressman was just about to get very impatient with Fortman when Lee Artoe walked up and said: "I beg your pardon, Congressman, but under Rule 5 you are clearly in error on this play."

It seemed to Sammy that Artoe was being just too polite under the circumstances, so he replied quickly.

"Listen, Artoe," he said, "you're not the Captain, and I'm enforcing this penalty under Rule 6."

The penalty stood, and the game resumed.

After the game Artoe was waiting for Sammy in the Club House. Artoe got right to the point.

"Congressman, I almost pulled one on you," he confessed. "Rule 5 refers to substitutes, and I just tried to cross you up. I'm sorry. But of course I wouldn't be if it had worked."

Sammy laughed and shook hands with Artoe. He was quite expansive. "Oh, that's all right, Artoe, don't think anything of it. As a matter of fact, I can see your point exactly. You see, I pulled one on you, too, because Rule 6 to which I referred relates to forward passes and had nothing to do with the situation."

Artoe gaped.

Sammy assumed a grieved look. "Now, Lee, you shouldn't try to fool the poor old referee that way. After all, the ref has the last say, you know."

For the rest of the season, Sammy had no trouble with his whistle tooting. No matter how many vexations he might find in the grinding of Congressional machinery, it was always an enjoyable experience to climb into his striped shirt and white pants. It was a pleasure occasionally to be a respected authority. But there were less pleasant experiences which went with the profession of whistle-tooter, and these he had to take in his stride.

Officiating in desperately fought games with scores running 30 to 27, 38 to 31, 28 to 21, 35 to 24, 21 to 21, and others equally close should give one first-hand information. On occasion, however, the "hand" or other parts may become badly mangled. Sammy discovered this when Brooklyn was playing Philadelphia at Buffalo, New York. There was a fumble on the goal line and the Congressman-Referee dove in on the play. "Bruiser" Kinnard of Brooklyn dove in, too, landing on Sammy and putting the referee's leg out of action for several days. The fans thought the injury was intentional because Sammy had called ten penalties on Brooklyn. But Sammy defended Kinnard. "It was pure accident," the Congressman told the newspapers. " 'Bruiser' is a great boy and very properly named."

When the refereeing Congressman limped into the House cloakroom the next day, he was in for a sound kidding.

"Why, what happened, Congressman," Representative Dilweg inquired, with mock surprise, "did you lose your whistle?"

"No, he didn't lose it," Representative Herman P. Eberharter told the group, "he just blew it too often."

Sammy laughed with the rest of them.

"No use trying to explain to you old men," he said, easing himself into a chair. "This game's for a new generation."

"Well, it may not be the lost generation," Mike Monroney observed, "but from the looks of you it's going to be the last generation. "

Then they got into the details of the game, which is what they had been waiting for. Sammy always enjoyed the cloakroom gabfests which were sandwiched in between sessions on the floor and in the committe rooms. It was in this cloakroom of the House that Congressman Sammy always maintained "Sid Luckman and Sammy Baugh are two of the greatest football players of all time. Two great passers, and Sammy Baugh has no equal as a kicker." These were his favorites, his football heroes. There were always arguments from Congressmen who had other heroes, but Sammy's opinions in sports matters always carried weight, even when his colleagues did not agree with him about details. He could always end the most heated sports argument with a laugh. When another lawmaker extolled some favorite sports figure with fiery persuasion, Sammy would observe, "Oh, well, naturally if he's a constituent of yours. . . !"

Even the most partisan would give in to a little humor. And, this is no doubt part of the reason his Irish friends describe him by saying, "Sammy has a way with him."

When the question of "blacking out" all sports came up, it naturally hit Congressman Weiss between his sports-loving eyes. It hit him that way at the same time the folks back home got their dander up. And when the news rolled through the training camps and bounced from the Atlantic to the Pacific, Sammy's mail piled up fast. With two secretaries, he waded through stacks of freshly-arrived letters. All the mail was answered because Sammy made it a point never to overlook a single letter or post-card with a return address on it. His reading was as rapid as his talking. One day in the midst of perusing his mail, he stopped, read again and then jumped up excitedly. "This is just the point . . . just the point!" he exclaimed. Accustomed as they were to Sammy's vigorous attitude, the girls were still a bit startled. A stranger might have thought Sammy had found a secret war formula in his mail. His secretaries knew differently. They listened as he read aloud from a letter postmarked Fort Benning, Georgia

"The Army has been calling many of football's greatest into the service. Grid strategy, it has been discovered, can well be adapted to military tactics, and some of pigskin's stellar exponents are drilling the technique into the heads of student officers."

The letter was signed by a young trainee at Fort Benning.

"There, you see how football can be used," Sammy declared with enthusiasm. "That's why I've got to make people see how valuable sports are to this nation. Here we are using sports to train officers down at Fort Benning while people are running around Washington threatening to stop all sports for the duration. Why . . ."

He broke off and looked at the two young ladies. "Sorry, girls, I guess I started to make my speech too soon, eh ?"

They all had a good laugh.

As far back as his first year in Congress he had begun to wrestle with the problem of what would happen to sports in wartime. He knew from his own experience that the boys who were sailing through their draft examinations had been hardened on the sandlots and on the high school and college playing fields.

"England has always boasted about the playing fields of Eton," he told Senator "Happy" Chandler, "but so long as we have the kind of sandlots the kids play on back in Glassport nobody is ever going to lick the United States of America."

Just the same, he knew some arm-chair patriots were out to "get" sports. Even when the Army and Navy rejections were mounting because of defects which athletics would have lessened or prevented, the talk grew. Sammy got mad. He knew people needed sports to relieve war tension, entirely aside from the benefits to those who played. So he arose in the House on Wednesday, December 16, 1942, and spoke his mind. Calmly and deliberately, he stated his case. He felt strongly, but he spoke slowly and persuasively

"Mr. Speaker, yesterday George Preston Marshall, owner of the Washington Redskins, National Professional Football League champions, and one of America's outstanding sports figures, made a timely statement in which he urged the Government to assign spectator sports a definite part in the war program.

"We all know that the living-as-usual policy is out for the duration. I firmly believe in many of the rationing regulations for the conservation and equal distributiou of our present supply of food products, and so forth, and to prevent any possible inflationary tendencies. I realize that all of us, Congressmen, men in the factories, in the mines, every civilian, must work, work and work, day and night, to help formulate policies and to produce the implements of war for our boys who are fighting to preserve American democracy.

"But to attain the desired goal, the important factor of civilian morale must not be overlooked. We must remember that men are human; that constant toil without any recreation not only breaks down civilian morale but hampers the speed and accuracy on the production line. Man must have diversion from his daily toil. He must take time off to see a show, a baseball game, a football game, or any kind of recreation. We all know the effect is like a doctor's shot in the arm stimulating and a real morale builder-a vital factor in our war effort. Germany, England, Russia, and Italy are maintaining sports programs. America has always been a leader in the world of sports. Many of our stars of the diamond and gridiron are real heroes today on the battle fields of the world.

"In the furtherance of our war effort, I urge the United States Army and Navy to determine this vital question once and for all, either to abandon sports for the duration, or set up a suitable program to help build the morale of 120,000,000 Americans, the brothers, sisters, fathers, and mothers of the 10,000,000 men soon to be in the services. "

When he had finished speaking, several members of the House made it a point to let him know they were with him in the fight for sports. Among the most determined was LaVern Dilwig of Wisconsin, who had played on the Green Bay Packers and had been All-American professional end for three years. There were others equally anxious to have sports continued. It was evident that even a year of war had brought a certain oppressive fatigue to the people, especially those who were working long hours in war jobs. The home front army needed some diversion. And so did Sammy. When he flew home on one of his frequent air trips, Jean noticed the signs of fatigue. She urged him to spare himself a little. He simply said: "Why, I'm doing fine, honey."

Guadalcanal had just been won. Solemnly, the nation had observed the anniversary of tragic Pearl Harbor. Even the horrors of war could not out do the shuddering horror of Boston's Cocoanut Grove night club holocaust. The isolationists faction was still crying "foul" a year after the nation's entry into the war. Scrap was short for vital steel. And there were a hundred other problems, great and small, which weighed upon Sammy as though he were personally responsible for the outcome of the war. In a sense, that was how he felt about it. On his desk in Washington, on the wall of his study at home, and on a card which he carried in his wallet, he had a few printed lines which he was in the habit of reading whenever he felt his energies flagging.

Strangely, they were not the lines of any famous writer. No Tennyson, no Shakespeare, nor even Edgar Guest. What Sammy had saved was a simple little story, clipped from a source long since forgotten. It was a message which had come out of World War I in 1918. Martin Treptow, an Iowa boy, had made the supreme sacrifice at Chateau Thierry. On the flyleaf of a diary found in his pocket, he had inscribed his conception of his duty to his country. It was this

"America must win this war; therefore I will work; I will save; I will sacrifice; I will endure; I will fight cheerfully and do my utmost, as if the issue of the whole struggle depended on me-alone."

Over the years, from one war to another, these two minds had seen eye-to-eye on the discharge of one's duty to country. What one had expressed, the other also felt. What Martin Treptow had outlined Sammy Weiss had dedicated himself to do. As this young man who lived in World War II drove himself with a burning zeal to leave nothing undone, he felt the will of this other warrior urging him to still greater effort. Away from Washington, he was restless. But he always hurried back, promising to spend more time at home "later, later, Jean."

Baseball's southern training trips were cancelled early in 1943. Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis ruled for strict cooperation with the war regulationes of government agencies. While diamond stars were continually trekking off to war, the position of baseball did not look too dark for 1943 although the old rumors of a crack-down persisted. College sports had taken a body blow. While the use of servicemen, or at least those in Navy uniforms, made it possible for some colleges to continue competition, many other colleges dropped major sports. The uncertain position of sports almost engulfed Sammy. Added to the manifold other phases of his Congressional responsibilities, for the first time in his life he found sports just a little less than a joy.

On Tuesday, March 2, 1943, he made public the results of a private survey and a summary of letters received from servicemen in the United States and abroad. At considerable effort he had compiled a poll of war production workers' sentiment on sports. Their answer was a long, loud "yes."

Thus he informed his fellow Congressmen

"There has been much controversy in the press and on the radio over the question of spectator sports. Shall we continue or shall we discontinue spectator sports for the duration? Whether baseball and football are to continue for the duration is now in the hands of those men in Washington who are directing the war effort. It should be a frank decision, made promptly without provoking any further discussion one way or another. At the very inception, let me state that my paramount interest and concern is the prompt and successful prosecution of the war. My record in the Seventy-seventh Congress clearly substantiates this statement.

"However, I do believe that the continuation of professional baseball and football will materially aid in the success of our war effort for many reasons. First, the daring, courage, initiative, and fighting spirit exemplified by our baseball players on the diamond and our football players on the gridiron are invaluable qualities now displayed by our fighting men and can be attributed as one of the major reasons for the success of our soldiers, sailors, and marines on the battlefronts of the world. Further, the game offers healthful relaxation to the soldiers in camp, those home on furlough, and to the men in industry producing the implements of war. All come under the heading of morale and morale has always proven to be one of the most important factors in any war."

"Colonel Thomas of the United States Army said:

" 'We need sports, as we don't want any slump in the morale of the workers to come through their being denied relaxation at sports events. Cut out the games and where will people go? You can't work them like machines without relaxation. We've got to keep up sports.'

"To substantiate my conviction, I have been conducting a poll among many of the soldiers, sailors, and marines in the service of our country and also by personal interview with men on the production front in the Thirtieth Congressional District of Pennsylvania, which I represent and which district is known as the heart of the arsenal of democracy. The Westinghouse Electric Company, the Carnegie-Illinois Plant, the largest battleship armor-plate plant in the world; the Homestead Works; McKeesport National Tube Company; Christy Park Shell Plant; Edgar Thompson Steel Works of Braddock; Pittsburgh Steel Foundry Corporation of Glassport and the Copperweld Steel Company of Glassport; the Firth Sterling Steel Company of McKeesport, are all located in my district. I visited these plants and asked these workers how they felt about spectator sports. In my poll conducted to date of more than 1,000 men, over ninety per cent of the men both in the armed forces and on the production front favor the continuation of professional baseball and football.

"My district is a typical cross-section of America, and if the results of this poll indicated sentiment to the contrary, I would urge Government officials to drop all spectator sports for the duration. But, on the other hand, the poll overwhelmingly proves the desire for the continuation of spectator sports. To our soldiers on the battlefronts who are fighting for us and are willing to make the supreme sacrifice in this war, baseball and football offer many moments of happy relaxation. To our soldiers on the production fronts, it grants them relief from the war burden they are shouldering. The many letters I have received from soldiers, sailors, and marines, and from the war workers, makes it evident to me that spectator sports are invaluable as a morale builder in this time of national emergency.

"Naturally, headline stars who are in the age limits will be in the service where they should be, but even if old-timers must be brought out of retirement and many of the younger married men required to spend some of their time working in defense plants, the game should go on. Spectator sports are still a part of the Government program in Germany, Russia, and Italy. In America we have greater reason to see that sports are never permitted to die. It is apparent that the men now overseas and many of those who have returned from Guadalcanal and other parts of the globe, yearn for a radio report about a baseball or a football game.

"Happy soldiers make better fighters, just like contented workers make better production men. It is my firm conviction that soldier and civilian morale demands that the Government permit spectator sports to continue for the duration."

The speech brought his colleagues to their feet in agreement, and it was widely quoted in the press.

A joint committee on sports was formed with members from the Senate and House of Representatives and meetings were held regularly in the Senate Caucus Room to plan strategy. Sammy was chairman of the informal group. It included Senator Mon. C. Walgreen of Washington, Senator Jim Mead of New York, Senator Alben Barkley of Kentucky, Representative LaVern Dilwig of Wisconsin, Representative "Mike" Monroney of Oklahoma, and Representative "Runt" Bishop of Illinois. They lost no time in placing the case for sports before Manpower Commissioner Paul V. McNutt. Sammy likewise saw to it that the urgency of the situation was brought directly to the White House.

In the opinion of Congressman Weiss, White House Secretary Marvin McIntyre was most helpful. He gave Sammy's own morale a boost while keeping the cause before the "Chief." McIntyre told him, "My boy, you keep up your fight for sports. The Old Man is back of you."

That was enough to send Sammy off on a touchdown run in behalf of what he believed to be right. To know that President Roosevelt knew what they were trying to do-more than that, to know that Roosevelt agreed with them-made it impossible for him to feel fatigue. Nothing discouraged him now. The Senators confirmed the President's attitude when they had occasion to discuss sports with FDR. Sammy introduced a resolution in the House endorsing wartime spectator sports as a morale aid.

But what was to happen to sports continued to be a matter of conjecture. It was true that Commissioner McNutt had expressed the opinion that baseball and the movies had a part to play in total war. Nobody seemed to have any clear idea about the rest of sports, either what was to be allowed or for how long. Two powerful government agencies-the Office of Defense Transportation and the War Manpower Commission-held a two-edged sword over professional, sports. The colleges had decided to accept drastic reductions it, athletic activity. However, an inconsistency between Army and Navy policy was constantly protested by Sammy. Schools which had the Navy training program found they could still field teams. Contending that schedules were too heavy to permit sports competition, Army officials nevertheless required ASTP students to spend about six hours each week in physical training.

Other members of the sports committee, equally burdened by war problems and routine legislation, helped Sammy try to relieve the darkening sports picture.

Congressman Dilweg took the floor on May 18, 1943:

"Mr. Speaker, it is my purpose to call your attention to the part sports are playing in our American victory drive."

At this point Congressman Ham Fish arose and addressed the chair. "Mr. Speaker, will the gentleman yield?"

Dilweg replied, "I yield."

Congressman Fish then said, "Mr. Speaker, I should like to call the attention of the House to the fact that the gentleman now speaking has more right to speak on American athletics than almost anybody in America. For years he played on the Green Bay Packers as end and was All-American professional end for three years."

Dilweg said, "I thank the gentleman." Then he continued: "We on the civilian front must also be more than one hundred per cent physically capable, so that we will be ready to meet any emergency.

"Now - and I can cite a wealth of authority for this statement - the only way that we can attain a high level of physical strength and endurance is through hard physical work - strenous exercise that will build muscle structure which will carry the physical load assigned to us - and at the same time give us the agility to better our tasks.

"It may sound ridiculous on the face of it to say that a man doing what we call hard manual labor today needs exercise after completing his day's work. But what happens to be the case, because there is hardly such a thing today as hard work. There is tedious work, of course, but machines have so usurped the drudgery of heavy lifting and other strenuous jobs that even the hardest working laborer today gets only exercise that develops certain parts of the body, at best.

"Total fitness depends on a totally fit human physical structure. Every part of the body - the hands, the arms, the shoulders, the back, the legs, the feet - must be able to function at prescribed daily tasks without undue fatigue-and have a little left to carry the physical burden of emergency assignments.

"Exercise is the answer."

Vorys of Ohio took the floor

"I should like to congratulate the gentleman on a very thoughtful and comprehensive and informative statement on the sports situation in war time. Let me add for the benefit of my colleagues that no one could do this more properly than the gentleman who has just addressed us. He is a famous athlete in his own right. He practices what he preaches in that he has preserved to his older years the fine physical fitness which characterized him in his youth. He has also preserved the fine sense of sportsmanship that he learned on the football field."

Watching and listening, Sammy felt that the cause of sports had many friends in Congress. He hoped that it would be possible to bring the Army to a more reasonable attitude on college sports competition and so soften future action of the transportation and manpower agencies by frequent and authoritative presentation of hard facts. What Dilweg had said was sound. It was one thing to have a sound argument, he knew from experience, and quite another to have it recognized. There had been a stirring in the Press Gallery as Dilweg spoke, and Sammy felt sure the wires would carry his words to the people.

O'Neal from Kentucky was on his feet now.

"I think the gentleman is probably making the best argument that could be made on the subject," O'Neal said, "in that he himself is proving his point by his attitude in Congress. I have noticed the gentleman on the floor of the House at almost every session. I have noticed the physical vigor which he has and which is being applied to his work as Congressman; the fine intelligence which I think most often goes with fine physical fitness.

"Let me say that the district which sent him here is making a real contribution to the work of Congress and to the health of Congress, because the gentleman from Wisconsin is a constant attendant at the gymnasium. He is an inspiration to some of us older men who go there to take exercise. And I believe that in addition to making his contribution from many other standpoints for the good of the country and his district that he is making a distinct and outstanding contribution to the health of Congress and thereby to the work that Congress does. "

There was further discussion, and Sammy saw there was a growing realization that sports and the physical vigor which sports promote had been somewhat overlooked in the hysteria of war. It was a strange contradiction that the most practical country in the world, a nation with the highest standard of living, could require perfect physical fitness in its fighting men yet neglect measures to insure fitness on the home front among its civilian population.

A week later, Representative Frank L. Sundstrom of New Jersey, former All-American at Cornell University, lent his voice to the plight of sports in war time. Then, on May 27, 1943, Sammy urged the Army to alter its ruling which barred soldiers from participating in intercollegiate sports. He cited the English system which gave the athletes a better opportunity for competition. Shortly thereafter he learned from Colonel Herman Beukema that a directive had been issued for a revision of the Army policy. He was elated. But only temporarily. The order was countermanded. The ban was continued, and it was so stated in a letter to Brigadier General M. G. White from Secretary of War Henry Stimson. The House protested. On June 6, Capitol Hill heard that the War Department was planning a formal reply to the protest of the House committee on sports over the soldier-student sports participation ban. It seems the War Department was nettled because Army questioned why Navy colleges could play football and Army students not.

Some schools were taking action to keep intercollegiate sports alive after a fashion, no matter what might be the future action of the War Department. Eligibility rules were liberalized by the Pacific Coast Conference to permit participation by servicemen. About ten days later the Southern Conference granted unlimited eligibility. Then a report was out that President Roosevelt had picked a national sports committee. A few weeks later Senator Jim Mead of New York made a strong plea for spectator sports in letters addressed to Under Secretary of War Patterson and Navy Secretary Forrestal.

Letters from servicemen at home and overseas still poured in to members of the joint Congressional committee on sports in wartime. Apparently sports was the main topic of conversation among soldiers and sailors. This only served to make Sammy's efforts a little more frenzied. He had a feeling of helplessness and almost shrank from having to reply, over a period of many months, that "we hope to have some clear-cut permanent decision soon." It became apparent that there was going to be no clear-cut change in the situation. The National Physical Fitness Committee urged schools and colleges to continue their programs, but the plea was received rather listlessly. Some were forced to drop competition. It was difficult to continue to field teams with seventeen year olds and 4-F's. It was even difficult for the players themselves. Colleges were not alone in their troubles. With seventy-five percent of their manpower gone to war, the Big League ball clubs were using oldtimers, and plenty of 4-F's, but the audiences were as large as ever.

Then the news came that Germany had banned both amateur and professional sports competition. The "no sports" howlers increased their baying like a wolfpack in the distance, but a pack coming closer, it seemed to Sammy. Great Britain tightened restrictions on sports. Japan was said to have abolished all sports. America appeared about to follow suit. Only Russia was continuing, despite handicaps. Sammy told the other members of the committee, "It looks like it won't be long now, fellows." He felt a sense of depression. Since the war began, he had experienced a dull gray feeling, a mental winter's landscape. Now it deepened, and his fatigue grew.

In July, eastern college athletic directors scheduled a two-day conference in New York City to discuss wartime problems and invited Sammy to speak.

Sammy had some news for them. He also had some misgivings. In both cases he put his cards right on the table. The Associated Press reported it in this fashion:

"July 29, 1943-(AP)-College athletic leaders, whose efforts to obtain permission for army specialized training program students to compete in intercollegiate athletics so far have been unsuccessful, heard today that they had been just one step away from success last June.

"Representative Samuel A. Weiss of Pennsylvania, Congressional champion of sports, revealed that at one time a directive had been issued to Colonel Herman Beukema calling for a revision of the A.S.T.P. program to allow for competition. Before the revision could be made, however, the order was countermanded by Secretary of War Stimson.

"Weiss added that he had received word from President Roosevelt, in a reply to a telegram calling his attention to the situation, he would take up the matter with the Secretary of War, and that a petition signed by 256 members of Congress already was on Stimson's desk.

"Weiss suggested that the athletic directors enlist the aid of their college presidents to counteract an impression in the War Department that educational leaders were opposed to intercollegiate competition as a method of physical training.

"In addition to Weiss's outline of the efforts made by his informal congressional committee to preserve spectator sports, John B. Kelly, chairman of the Federal Security Agency's Committee on physical fitness, said that his committee always had been in favor of competitive athletics. The athletic directors, representing about fifty eastern colleges, also discussed what Asa Bushnell, C. O. E. L. A. executive director, called the `six-hour paradox.'

"Army trainees are required to take six hours of physical training weekly, and a discussion revealed that in many colleges schedules are so arranged or could easily be arranged so that the time could be devoted to sports practice."

After he returned to Washington, Sammy waited for some news to come out of the White House, because he knew that nothing was going to be done for the A.S.T.P. by the War Department. Stimson did not see things the way the Navy did, and that was that. Days became weeks and nothing happened. Had he been disappointed by anyone else than President Roosevelt, Sammy would have been grievously wounded. As it was, he told his colleagues with more cheerfulness than he felt, "The Old Boss has a lot of things on his mind. But he won't let sports down. We won't have any general blackout, even if nothing is done for A.S.T.P."

He was right. There the matter rested. Nothing was done. Although the situation worsened, it did so only gradually. Probably the most severe blow that sports suffered was the ban on horse racing much later-enforced by Jimmy Byrnes because the race tracks were openly defying the ODT.

It was never necessary for Sammy to turn from one activity or interest to another. He maintained an equal and constant interest in all that went on about him. Since the spring, official Washington had been giving more and more thought to international cooperation and the problems of the peace once the war had been won. Because of the sorry record of the U. S. Senate after World War I, there were many resolutions seeking to place Congress on record, especially the Senate, in favor of an international organization in which the United States would take an active part. Two of the resolutions which were most in the public mind, because of the press and radio comment, were the Fulbright Resolution in the House and the "B2H2" Resolution in the Senate. Democratic Representative J. William Fulbright of Arkansas, who was later to be elected to the Senate, introduced a brief resolution calling for the establishment of international machinery which would have power to maintain peace. U. S. participation in the world organization was a first consideration. To Sammy, this was an enlightened viewpoint and one with which he was in full sympathy. He sought out Fulbright and told him

"You offered the world a new hope. I shall do every thing within my power to be of help."

Sammy was greatly stirred by the possibilities of such an organization as Fulbright proposed. In the Senate there was a more elaborate resolution which the press had labeled "B2H2" because it was offered by four members of the Senate, two Democrats and two Republicans. The Democrats had names beginning with the letter "H", Senators Carl A. Hatch of New Mexico and Lister Hill of Alabama. The Republicans had the second letter of the alphabet-Senators Harold H. Burton of Ohio and Joseph H. Ball of Minnesota. This Senate resolution advocated U. S. initiative in the establishment of the United Nations organization for the three-fold purpose of prosecuting the war, planning the peace and joint commanding of military forces to maintain future peace. Not all members of Congress, either in the Lower House or the Senate, received these proposals with enthusiasm. There was even outright coldness in some quarters, an attitude not unlike that which had followed the first World War. Then bi-partisan support grew and there was an enlightened campaign of explanation and support throughout the summer. Even the traditionally isolationist middle west showed a strong sentiment in favor of the proposals for world cooperation in behalf of future peace. The Mackinac Island Conference of Republican Governors in September, 1943, adopted a resolution, cautious and conservative though it was, supporting U. S. participation in efforts to preserve world peace.

Things began to happen after that, almost to the point where Sammy wondered if he could keep his football commitments for that fall. On September 21, just eleven days before Sammy was to referee his first game of the season, the House adopted the Fulbright Resolution by a vote of 360 to 29. The size of the House vote was as encouraging as the fact that its Foreign Relations Committee had unanimously recommended adoption.

Now the Senate had a burr under its saddle and the Senate Foreign Relations Committee showed signs of activity. A bi-partisan committee of eight Senators to whom the "B2H2" and related resolutions had been referred, drafted a new resolution to place that body on record favoring international cooperation. Senator Tom Connally of Texas, as committee chairman, introduced what came to be known as the Connally resolution, and the Senate adopted it by a vote of 85 to 5.

Home in Glassport that week-end, Sammy was full of the bright new future of the world.

"Just think," he told Jean, "how different it will be for Roosevelt when we write the peace. How different from what poor President Wilson endured when the Senate of his time opposed the Versailles Treaty unless the League of Nations Covenant were taken out."

"I'm so glad, darling," she commented, "now you won't have to help Roosevelt worry over that, will you?"

"Why, honey, you sound as if you were mad at Roosevelt," he said, somewhat startled. Then he saw her smile, and it struck him that he had been absent so much lately that he had forgotten to expect a little good-natured teasing.

"If Roosevelt is responsible for your being away so much, Sammy, then I am mad at him," was her reply.

"It's not Roosevelt. It's the people."

He was inclined to believe there was just a little serious resentment behind her facetiousness. And he had to admit to himself that this job of being a Congressman was not exactly a pattern for perfect domesticity. It made him a week-end husband, in fact. He got up from the floor, Jimmy and Joy both protesting his desertion, and took a seat on the arm of Jean's chair where he could smother further complaint.

"You put me in a very unfair position," Jean said. "When I want to be mad at somebody for keeping you in Washington, you turn around and tell me it's the `people.' I can't be mad at all the people, Sammy. "

"You don't need to be," he consoled her, "only the voters of the Thirty-first Congressional District are to blame. And no public official ever gets mad at the voters. It just isn't done."

"If a war wasn't on I'd go out and campaign for your opponent," she threatened. "That's one way to get you home."

"Why, I've a good notion to report you to the Dies Committee for subversive activity," he retorted. "Here I am campaigning for permanent world peace, and I am faced with civil war at home. Ah me, we poor Congressmen."

Jimmy and Joy always enjoyed these dialogues even though they were not always sure what they were about. They did know that they were part of a happy home.

"Love is easy to understand, isn't it, Sam?" she said after the children were in bed.

"My dear, if we could only spread more of it around in the world, there would be no need for any international organization to preserve world peace." Sammy considered this thought for a moment or two. Jean watched him. Then he noticed tears in her eyes. She was so good, so kind. He never ceased to thank God for the wonderful good fortune which had given her to him. He knew the war grieved her deeply. With all the mothers who agonized in loneliness for sons, with all the mothers and fathers who mourned, dear, tender-hearted Jean suffered in spirit. Then and there he recognized in her distress the real atrocity of war. He knew that he would go back to Washington resolved to play his small part with all the strength within him. There could be no discouragements.

Being a devout Orthodox Jew, Sammy found that he was going to have trouble in meeting one engagement of his 1943 officiating schedule. He was scheduled to referee the Redskins vs. Bears game in Washington. That evening began the Yom Kippur holiday-the most sacred Day of Atonement. Rather than risk any interference with his religious duties, Sammy tried to get a substitute to work the game. There was nobody available and, in addition, Commissioner Layden said he wanted Sammy to handle the game if it were at all possible. The Pro Commissioner had known Sammy from Layden's coaching days at Duquesne. He suggested that it might be possible for Sammy to handle the game and still be home on time, but added, "As you know, Sammy, it is the last thing I would ask of you that you miss a solemn religious occasion for any football game."

After checking with his old standby, Pennsylvania Central Airlines, Sammy found he could take the 5 p.m. flight out of Washington and arrive in time for Kol Nidre services. He then arranged with Ed Kelly, Commissioner of Police for Washington, D. C., for assistance. Kelly agreed to furnish him with a police escort. He would have little time to spare, but he could make it. After making sure of these arrangements, Sammy worked the game.

The game was delayed. Sammy ran from the field to the club house where he picked up his bag. He stopped neither for a shower nor to change his clothes. Still wearing his uniform under his topcoat, he jumped into the cab which was waiting for him. Then began a ride he will never forget. The cab driver was a sports fan and a Protestant. The cops were Catholics. Sammy says the whole episode was inter-faith cooperation in action from the time he first talked to the Airlines. In any case, the cops held their sirens wide open through thirteen red lights while the cab driver held his foot on the gas all the way to the Washington airport from Griffith Stadium. Before taking off, Sammy sent a wire to the Glassport Police Department. He then boarded a plane with a crew made up of one Methodist, one Baptist and one Episcopalian. At Allegheny County Airport, he was met by a police car from his home community. They deposited him at home, where he had a shower and dressed. He was on time for Kol Nidre services at 6:45 p.m.

He was more than a little sad that night, for his successful efforts to be on time for Kol Nidre services had brought his father sharply into his mind. Sammy remembered his father's attendance at so many games in which he had played. If they were being played near Glassport, the elderly man would walk to them. Or if in Pittsburgh, he made it a point to go to that city Friday night, staying with friends. He would then walk to the game. A great sports fan, his father was a strict Orthodox Hebrew. He never worked on the Sabbath. But with so many athletic events scheduled on Saturdays, he never counted any effort too great to see his son play. He was proud of Sammy.

"I'm sure he knows how proud I am that he was my father," Sammy will tell you. And his voice is much huskier than usual when he speaks of the little man who was so much his pal. 

On January 26, 1944, Sammy made a speech in Cleveland, Ohio. It was a good speech and a sincere one. The audience applauded warmly and asked him to answer questions. He obliged. When he walked out of the auditorium, he felt a warm glow despite the bitter wind blowing off Lake Erie. The support which his audience had given him made him feel proud and satisfied. Sammy was glad he had made the trip. Even the news that flights were cancelled and that he must return to Washington by train failed to spoil the mood. He whistled a few bars of "Happy Days" and then switched over to "The Red and Blue," football marching song of his Alma Mater. Gusts of wind snatched the tune from his lips and made it hard to keep them puckered, but he persisted, raising the tempo and the volume to the weather's challenge.

Next day, January 27, 1944, back in Washington, D. C., Sammy's phone rang often. Friends had concern in their voices when they asked, "What did you say in Cleveland, Sammy?"

Others told him, "Rankin's on the warpath."

Or, "This is serious, pal."

A group of loyal colleagues swelled to the capacity of his office. His secretary had gone for newspapers.

"Sammy," the men chorused in real anxiety, "what happened to you? What did you say? It's not like you to go off the deep end!"

Sammy knew there was some trouble over his speech. But he could not understand why. He did not recall it as anything sensational. He had thought it might make news, but did not see any reports until his secretary brought him a newspaper clipping. Then he got a real shock. The head of the story read

The article went on with a lurid account of his speech in Cleveland.

Sammy stared at the Cleveland dateline and the body of the story. He made several attempts to speak, waving the clipping in his right hand. "Why, why. . . " He looked again to see if perhaps there had not been a switch in stories, but of course he had only the one clipping from the paper.

Then he got mad... angry as only Sammy can become when he is outraged by the one thing which shocks him most. . . a lie.

"This is an outrageous lie!" he shouted. His friends were astonished at the fury of his outburst. "I never said anything of this kind in Cleveland. Why, there weren't even any reporters at the meeting so far as I know."

"Hold it, pal," Jerry Voorhis soothed. "You had better save all your energy for the floor today. You know Rankin will go at you hammer and tongs on this story. He has already threatened to have you expelled from the House."

"That's right," the others agreed. "We believe you. So don't waste any words on us, Sammy. You'll need them when Rankin lets loose-that is, if he lets you get a word in edgewise."

Sammy knew of the forensic onslaughts he could expect from Representative John E. Rankin of Mississippi. When he took his seat in the House a few minutes later, he knew he was in for a battle. His friends and foes alike-and he was glad he had few foes-were giving him an uncomfortable amount of attention.

Sammy decided to beat Rankin to the punch. He stood up and addressed the Speaker.

"Mr. Speaker, I ask unanimous consent to extend my remarks in the Record. . . "

That was as far as he got. Rankin jumped to his feet, waving a newspaper clipping. There could be no doubt about his intention.

"Mr. Speaker," he thundered, "I reserve the right to object. Before the gentleman from Pennsylvania puts anything in the Record, I desire to call attention to the fact that he is quoted as making a speech at Cleveland in which he reflected on the membership of this House. I read now from the Associated Press dispatch dated January 26th."

Rankin turned toward Sammy with an accusing look as he boomed out the words of the newspaper story. The newsmen in the press gallery leaned forward attentively. This was going to be news no matter how it came out. Sammy could see that his friend Herman Eberharter had a worried look. Well, he was worried, too. But he made up his mind he would not give Rankin the satisfaction of showing it. As Rankin read, Sammy found himself thinking, "I'm glad Jean's home with the kids, but I miss her." Then he remembered the death of Congressman Edelstein. He felt fury running through his veins. A great rage welled up within him, so much that he ached to rise and cry out against this man Rankin who outraged, he felt, the purpose for which this Congress had been created. But reason came close behind the heat of his feelings. His football knowledge reminded him that the man who loses his calm cannot win. Sammy knew he must win. He sat and waited.

The House listened to the news story read in the broad Southern accent of the gentleman from Mississippi.

After Rankin had said, "January 26" as though it fixed both the date and Sammy's guilt at the same time, he read on

"Representative Samuel A. Weiss (Democrat), of Pennsylvania, declared last night:

" 'If the [Washington] grand jury that indicted thirty for traitorous acts recently had gone another step, they would have indicted three members of Congress.' Representative Weiss did not identify the Congressmen.

"In an address before the Temple Men's Club, Weiss termed 'blocs fighting for selfish ends' within Congress as constituting the biggest obstacle to prosecution of the war, and added 'certain blocs in Congress are a hotbed of fascism.' "

Rankin swept the House with a glance and then looked to the presiding officer.

"Mr. Speaker," he said brandishing the clipping, "I demand the expulsion of the Congressman from Pennsylvania who has indicted this just body-and I demand immediate action... and I charge the gentleman from Pennsylvania with offering the greatest insult in history to this House, if as reported here, he made a speech- declaring there are Fascist blocs in Congress."

Rankin's face reddened as he shouted

"I insist that the gentleman from Pennsylvania insert in the Record a copy of the speech in which the charges of Fascism were made, so that the House can act to have Mr. Weiss expelled."

As Rankin thundered on, Sammy squeezed his school ring and waited to speak in his own defense. Finally, he was recognized by the Speaker.

"Mr. Speaker, I want the members of this House to know that I did not make the statements attributed to me in this newspaper account. I deny them. I have been charged by the gentleman from Mississippi with something which I did not do. Nor would do.

"I never made a statement that Congress is a hotbed of Fascism. I said there were blocs of interest here affecting the prosecution of the war, but would not make such a statement as is attributed to me."

Rankin, still thundering mad, interrupted.

"Mr. Speaker, this article quotes him as saying there are Fascist blocs in Congress. I want to say now that a man who goes out of here to discuss Congress in that manner has done a most serious injustice. "

Now a new voice added to the attack.

"Did you make a statement that three members of Congress ought to be indicted" demanded Representative Andrew J. May of Kentucky.

"No, sir, I never made that statement," Sammy said, emphatically.

Sammy felt that he was not making much headway against the determined attack of Rankin and May. He knew that their onslaught was a natural reaction to the press story of his reported insult to the House. At the same time, he was hurt by their apparent failure to have confidence in another member of Congress, even if they had no admiration for him personally. Not only was he a fellow member of the supreme law-making body of the nation, but he was also a member of the same political party. He found it a trifle difficult to reconcile these things, but he was not so naive as to forget that his critics were southern Democrats, some of whom seemed to have peculiar ideas about the rest of the nation and indeed, the rest of mankind.

In spite of their prejudicies, surely, he thought, they ought to give him credit for a desire to preserve the honor of the House as zealously as they. While he was struggling with these thoughts, parrying their thrusts and groping for means to combat this attack, help arrived. Strangely enough, it came from a Southerner.

Representative Albert Gore, Tennessee Democrat, arose to urge that "the gentleman from Pennsylvania be given time on the floor at some future date to fully outline what he said in his address."

That ended the argument for the time being. Sammy was smarting from the accusations. He was hurt. But he was also determined that the "future date" would be the next day if the Speaker would recognize him. He was grateful to Gore, and he reminded himself that the conclusions he had reached a few moments before had to be revised. There were Representatives from the Northern states who were not too broadminded either, he remembered. When he reviewed the episode later, he concluded that "it all comes under the head of human nature." That was not a profound bit of philosophy, but certainly the premise was hardly open to argument.

That night Jean called him. He knew as soon as he heard her voice that she had seen the Pittsburgh papers with accounts of what had taken place on the floor of the House.

" Sammy, what is it? I know it's not true, dear; but what are they trying to do to you?"

He told her not to worry and asked about Jimmy and Joy.

"But, Sam," Jean insisted. "Do you know what it says in the Pittsburgh Press? "

"I know what it's about," he answered, "but what does it say in the Press?"

She read it to him: "WEISS ACCUSED OF GRAVE INSULT TO THE HOUSE. Rankin Wants Remarks Made Basis of Expulsion Move."

Then she added, "Could they do that, Sammy? Put you out of Congress?" He knew she was close to tears so he made no attempt to evade her questions. She would have seen through the pretense and might have imagined things which were not so.

"Darling, I'll clear the whole thing up the first time they give me a chance to make a complete statement. Don't worry about it. I was misquoted. There were no newspapermen in the audience the other night. Somebody must have given out some second hand information and dressed it up too much." He knew, or at least fervently hoped, that he sounded more confident than he felt.

"Well, you're so impulsive, honey. And I know how strongly you feel about anyone's letting personal interest interfere with the war effort. Now that I've talked with you, though, I won't worry. Jimmy and Joy said to give you a big kiss for them."

After he hung up, he sat for a while thinking. If he had never left his law practice to come to Washington, he might have been back in Glassport with his family. There would be no trouble over misquoted remarks or the inflammable nature of a Congressman Rankin.

He jumped up and walked over to the window. Washington was in brown-out, but the snow and the few lights in office windows composed a picture of wintry beauty. Sammy loved this city of government. His job was worth any headaches, he reminded himself, especialy if he managed to help people who could not help themselves. He turned from the window and went back to his notes. He had made telephone calls and sent wires to Cleveland. Now he had the facts and he meant to present them in the House tomorrow. He'd give Rankin and May full answers to their questions.

The next morning, just before he arose on a question of personal privilege, he thought again of the late Congressman Edelstein. McCormick, who was presiding as the Speaker pro tem, recognized Sammy. The debate was reported in the Congressional Record as follows

Mr. Weiss: "Mr. Speaker, I want to say that I was not responsible for this quorum call. I was satisfied to speak to the group who were assembled here.

"I have been charged by my colleague, the gentleman from Mississippi (Mr. Rankin), with statements purported to have been made by me in an address in Cleveland, Ohio, that appeared in certain newspapers. The charges made by my colleague are serious ones, and they directly affect my integrity and that of this legislative body."

Mr. Rankin: "Just a minute; I did not charge the gentleman with anything. I asked him if he made those statements. I did not charge him with making them. I asked him if he did make them."

Mr. Weiss: "The gentleman heard my reply on the floor."

Mr. Rankin: "I understand, but I did not charge the gentleman with making the statements; I asked him if he made those statements. "

Mr. Weiss: " The gentleman heard my reply yesterday on the floor, and I pleaded with you to permit me to reply, and you refused."

"I delivered an extemporaneous speech. My subject was 'Congress-the War and Peace.' I began with the lend-lease bill, the repeal of the Neutrality Act, the extensions of the Selective Service Act, and so forth. Not wishing to rely on my memory alone in dealing with the laws referred to, I had the Library of Congress prepare a digest of the laws passed or considered since I came to this Congress. I referred to prepared notes and am willing to submit them to any member of the House to read. There were some twenty cards of notes with factual data referring in detail to every vote on major bills and votes on appropriations giving exact amounts which I discussed at this forum.

"Let us analyze the article referred to by the gentleman from Mississippi [Mr. Rankin] that appeared in the newspaper. I am quoted as stating

" 'Labels Congress the worst obstacle to the successful prosecution of the war.'

"This statement I deny I ever made in my discussion at Cleveland. I did, however, state this

"Subsidies are one of the most vital issues now confronting the Congress affecting the living conditions of 130,000,000 American people; that soon the extension of credit to C.C.C. will expire and Congress has taken no action because a powerful farm bloc is bitterly opposed to subsidies; that I maintained that if subsidies are banned, prices will skyrocket with a period of six months.

"There will be thousands of demands from labor groups for wage increases, and I would support them. With wages chasing prices, inflation, a deadly enemy of our economy, will be upon us. Further, I maintained that a ban on subsidies will do more to hinder the successful prosecution of the war than any other undertaking by the Congress. During the course of the forum, in answer to a query, I informed my audience that, contrary to the beliefs and statements of the dictators that democracy was decadent and unable to function in an emergency, Congress within an hour voted a declaration of war with Japan with only one opposing vote; that we likewise voted similar action against Germany and Italy without any objection or opposition. Congress, rising to the same degree of non-partisanship and statesmanship, authorized appropriations totaling $295,152,690,661.22 up to the end of the first session of the Seventy-eighth Congress to aid in the successful prosecution of the war.

"The newspaper further quoted me as stating

"If the Washington grand jury that recently indicted thirty for traitorous acts had gone another step, they would have indicted three members of Congress.

"The above statement was never made by me or anyone in my behalf, nor did I ever authorize anyone to make such a dastardly statement.

"I want to say, Mr. Speaker, that the Associated Press reporter has admitted to me that they had no one present at the meeting-they got the information from another newspaper report. In reply to a query I was asked about the apparent abuse of the franking privilege by some Members of Congress and my reply was in substance as follows

"They recently indicted thirty seditionists in Washington. Had Sammy Weiss permitted his frank to be used with speeches calling the President of the United States a 'modern Judas' as it was alleged against Clare Hoffman of Michigan, or had he permitted a Nazi agent to send out thousands of pieces of franked mail as was charged against Congressman Fish of New York-"

Mr. Fish: "Mr. Speaker, I want to deny categorically that my frank was ever used by anybody; that anybody ever used my frank except myself at any time and they always included one hundred per cent American speeches. "

Mr. Hoffman: "Mr. Speaker-"

Mr. Weiss: "Just a moment, I shall be glad to yield to the gentleman, as I promised.

"Let me repeat

"They recently indicted thirty seditionists in Washington. Had Sammy Weiss permitted his frank to be used with speeches calling the President of the United States a 'modern Judas' as was alleged against Congressman Clare Hoffman of Michigan, or had he permitted a Nazi agent to send out thousands of franked pieces of mail as alleged against Congressman Fish of New York, with the prejudice that exists the grand jury would no doubt have gone a step further and had Sammy Weiss indicted.

"That is the statement I made. I never implied nor left any inference to the contrary.

"There is a further quotation in the newspaper with reference to the following:

"Certain blocs in Congress are a hotbed of fascism. I vehemently deny making that statement and I repeat as I did a moment ago : No such implication was ever made by me at that forum discussion or at any other time or place.

"I want to refer now to some ten telegrams I have received from various people of prominence present at the forum, including a member of Western Reserve University, the president of a bank, and many other prominent Cleveland citizens who very emphatically deny having heard me make any such statements, nor did I leave any inferences. I have the telegrams here in my hand that I am submitting for the Record. "

Mr. Case: "Mr. Speaker, before the gentleman proceeds, would he mind reading again the statement about the franking privilege so we can get the entire statement in mind and have it in mind as we listen to the rest of his statement and weigh his question of privilege?"

Mr. Weiss: "My reply to the query on abuse of the franking privilege was substantially as follows:

"They recently indicted thirty seditionists in Washington. Had Sammy Weiss permitted his frank to be used with speeches calling the President of the United States a 'modern Judas', as it was alleged Congressman Clare Hoffman of Michigan did. . . "

Mr. Hoffman: "Mr. Speaker, I ask that those words be taken down. I never made any such charge; I never made any such charge. The gentleman has no right to make such a charge against me on the floor. He has no right to repeat that false charge.

"The gentleman has also said something about my misuse of the frank. If the gentleman would read the Record, he would discover that when the gentleman from New York, Mr. Snell, was minority-leader, he sent down to the Post Office Department and later another department of the Government was queried and official information sent up here as to the use of the frank. These opinions have always been followed and should be borne in mind in connection with any charge of the franking privilege."

Mr. Weiss: "I did not and do not charge you with misuse of the franking privilege."

Mr. Hoffman: "What was the gentleman doing down in Cleveland?"

Mr. Weiss: "In my address, I made this statement:

"Had Sammy Weiss permitted his frank to be used with speeches calling the President of the United States a 'modern Judas' as it was alleged Congressman Clare Hoffman of Michigan did, to be sent through our mails, or had he permitted a Nazi agent to send out thousands of pieces of franked mail as it was alleged against Congressman Fish of New York, with the prejudice that exists, the grand jury would no doubt have gone a step further and had Sammy Weiss indicted. "

Mr. Fish: "Mr. Speaker, does the gentleman make the charge that any Nazi agent ever sent out any speech of mine?"

Mr. Woodrum (of Virginia) : "Mr. Speaker, a point of order."

The Speaker Pro Tempore: "The gentleman will state it."

Mr. Woodrum: "Mr. Speaker, I make the point of order that the gentleman from Pennsylvania has obtained the floor under parliamentary procedure which entitles him to state his point of personal privilege. I have no interest whatever in this discussion except that of the average Member of the House who would like to hear it.

"The gentleman from Pennsylvania has the right to consume that time without yielding if he does not wish to yield and to be heard by the House."

Mr. Hoffman: "May I be heard on the point of order!"

The Speaker Pro Tempore: "Does the gentleman desire to be heard on the point of order?"

Mr. Hoffman: "I sure do."

The Speaker Pro Tempore: "The Chair will hear the gentleman."

Mr. Hoffman: "What the gentleman from Virginia said about the right of the gentleman from Pennsylvania is absolutely correct, but a Member obtaining the floor on a question of personal privilege does not have the right while making a speech on the question of personal privilege to bring in other matters charging Members with disloyal or unlawful conduct by repeating a false charge. He is using this question of personal privilege to bring in and repeat false charges against others; and tomorrow, if I rise to a question of personal privilege I cannot answer him, for his statements were made on the floor and can only be questioned by demanding that they be taken down as I have demanded. That is my right-and it is here denied me in violation of the rules of the House."

Mr. Taber: "Mr. Speaker, a parliamentary inquiry."

The Speaker Pro Tempore : "Does the gentleman from Pennsylvania yield for the purpose of a parliamentary inquiry?"

Mr. Weiss: "I would rather complete my statement, but will be glad to yield later."

The Speaker Pro Tempore : "The Chair is prepared to rule on the point of order.

"The gentleman from Pennsylvania is speaking on a question of personal privilege, answering certain statements made in the press, and defending his position. The Chair thinks that thus far the gentleman has complied with the rules.

"The gentleman from Pennsylvania may proceed."

Mr. Weiss: "There is a further quotation in the newspaper report:

"Certain blocs in Congress are a hotbed of fascism. I vehemently deny making that statement. It was not made by me in my Cleveland address nor was it ever made by me at any place or at any time.

"I want to read here some telegrams sent me by some of the finest citizens of Cleveland:

" 'You were quoted as saying that Congress was a hotbed of fascists and that three Members of Congress should be indicted by the grand jury. I attended this meeting of the men's club and know that this statement is untrue.' L. C. Haas, Cleveland Heights, Ohio.

" 'I was present at the meeting of the Temple Men's Club on January 25, and did not hear you make any statement that Congress was a hotbed of fascism or that three Members of Congress should be indicted.' Herman S. Meshorer.

" 'I heard tonight you accused of saying at meeting of the Men's Club here Tuesday that Congress was a hotbed of fascism and that the grand jury should indict several Members. I was present during your talk and certainly don't recall you saying those things.' Joe Hartzmark.

" 'Listened to your address at Men's Club Meeting Tuesday evening. Did not hear you make reported statements that Congress was a hotbed of fascism.' Lester Colbert.

"I have many other telegrams here from prominent men who were present and heard me and they all say that no such statement or inference was made which would lead the membership to believe that Sam Weiss had said that Congress was a hotbed of fascism.

"As I stated on this floor yesterday, any individual who would make a statement of that nature is certainly not worthy of the trust placed in him, nor would he be worthy of the privilege of sitting in these Halls of Congress."

Mr. Rankin: "Will the gentleman yield?"

Mr. Weiss: "When I complete my statement, I shall be glad to yield.

"I am pleased to state that these colleagues of mine who know me best say they never heard me use the word 'fascism' in debate, in forum discussion, or in any of my remarks or speeches. I have never made such a reference. The word itself, while an obsession with some people, is not an expression of mine.

"The meeting in Cleveland was an open forum, and during the discussion my opinion was asked concerning Congressman Bolton and also Congressman Feighan. I had nothing but highest praise for both Representatives. Later, in informal discussion, I also commented on the excellent representation given Ohio by Congressmen Rowe, Bender and Crosser. I informed the group that Congressman Rowe's brother was a United Mine Worker, and that Congressman Rowe, together with Congressman Bender, was a real friend of the workers.

"May I say to my colleagues-very humbly-that I have been in public life for over ten years. My first venture into public service was as a member of the Pennsylvania State Legislature. I was the first person of my faith ever elected to that office from my district; also, I am the first person of my faith ever to be elected to the Congress of the United States from this same district. My constituency of some 350,000 people, with less than 5,000 of my faith, is an understanding and American-spirited group of people. I am proud of my heritage and they know it. They also know of my athletic background and that, as a football official, my integrity at the high schools, colleges, and in the cities throughout this Nation where I have officiated has never been questioned. And I do not propose to change my course of living at this late stage of the game.

"I am an immigrant lad, but I love my country just as dearly as does the gentleman from Mississippi. I am a Jew and proud of my heritage, but nothing transcends my love for my country, the country that guarantees to all of us freedom of religion, to worship as we desire to meet the needs of our souls, freedom of the press, and freedom of speech. No individual or group in this country, including the gentleman from Mississippi, has any priorities on America or its priceless freedom. All of us trace our heritage to some foreign source, including the gentleman from Mississippi."

Mr. Rankin: "Will the gentleman yield"

Mr. Weiss: "I will yield later, gladly."

Mr. Rankin: "Why does the gentleman continue to raise the race question? "

Mr. Weiss: "I will be happy to yield later.

"The pioneers of this land, the Pilgrims, Puritans, Huguenots, the Catholics, and the Jews, driven from their homes in foreign lands because of intolerance and persecution, built on these shores a shrine of liberty-which is now being threatened by the forces of dictatorship.

"Day in and day out we hear Members of Congress and the press of the country clamor for national unity-our only hope for preserving the freedoms we enjoy. These freedoms and the liberties guaranteed by the Constitution in the Bill of Rights are threatened today by enemies from within who are just as dangerous as any of those from without. Those Americans within our gates who are spreading falsehoods and arousing suspicion against racial and religious groups in the hope of dividing our Nation into hostile groups, are playing the game with Hitler and his Axis partners. They seek to create confusion and panic so that America may be impotent in the event of attack from without. Like the fifth columnists, this is a new weapon of modern warfare. Freedom is our heritage. To defend freedom is our duty.

"Certainly there is no one in this Congress opposed to the free expression of any of its Members on any vital issue affecting the country-even if one must at times criticize a fellow colleague of the House.

"I cherish the friendships made in the House and I shall always respect the opinion of my colleagues even though I may disagree with it. To repeat the words of Voltaire, 'I do not agree with a word that you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.'

"I feel certain this includes the right to fair criticism with supporting factual data in order to aid in crystallizing honest public opinion among the American people.

"While all America cries for national unity, I urge the gentleman from Mississippi to memorize and heed the following pledge adopted by the Catholics, Protestants and Jews at the National Conference of Christians and Jews in New York City in 1938:

Mr. Eberharter: "Will the gentleman yield?"

Mr. Weiss: "I yield to the gentleman from Pennsylvania."

Mr. Eberharter: "It had not been my intention to say anything on this occasion, but I have known my colleague, the gentleman from Pennsylvania (Mr. Weiss) for a great number of years. I come from the same county in Pennsylvania. The gentleman from Pennsylvania (Mr. Weiss) became generally well known when he was a student at Duquesne University .... He became known as one of the star athletes of that University. Although slight of stature, as you can all see, very light in weight, he nevertheless played so hard, so fast, and so clean, that he was recognized not only in Western Pennsylvania but all over the country as a fair, clean sportsman.

"After he graduated from school he practiced law, and before the courts of Pennsylvania in representing his clients and in his representation to the courts he established a reputation as good as any reputation that has ever been established in the courts of Allegheny County, Pennsylvania. From there he went into political life, and, in a district where there are very few people of his faith, he was so well known and made such a reputation that he carried that district by an overwhelming majority, and it is recognized that there is nobody who can defeat him because of the reputation he has established as being fair, square, tolerant, and a decent American citizen.

"For several years he has been called upon to officiate as a referee and as an umpire in football games all over the United States. Why? Because he has that inherent fairness and squareness anal honesty, intellectually and otherwise, that is necessary in a person officiating not only in college games but in professional games.

"Mr. Speaker, fairness and squareness are matters of habit, and this gentleman has demonstrated all of his life that he has that instinctive habit of fair play. I know that he has no intention whatsoever at any time of saying anything of a disparaging nature against any Member of Congress. I have seen him very closely since he has come to the Congress, Mr. Speaker, and I have often said: 'There is one thing about Sam Weiss, and that is he never says anything derogatory about any Member of Congress or any other person, whether it be his political opponent or any other person with whose views he does not agree.' He has that reputation with every person and every group that knows him.

"Mr. Speaker, this gentleman has been and is being subjected to indignity by the very repetition on the floor of this House of that item that appeared in the newspaper. He has suffered injury. I know every Member of this House is fair and wants to be fair. I hope and I am sure that after his explanation his word will be believed. It is only my hope in the permanent Record there will be expunged everything that has been said in connection with this regrettable incident."

Mr. Weiss: "I thank the gentleman. I am indeed grateful to him. "

Mr. Rankin: "Mr. Speaker, will the gentleman yield?"

Mr. Weiss: "I gladly yield to the gentleman from Mississippi."

Mr. Rankin: "The gentleman from Pennsylvania has answered the question I asked him on yesterday. I explained to him then that I had no desire to do him any injustice. I agree with him that anybody who would go out and make the statements attributed to him ought to be expelled from Congress. I asked the gentleman if he made the statement that 'certain blocs in Congress are a hotbed of fascism.' He said he did not make that statement."

Mr. Weiss: "That is right."

Mr. Rankin: "I said to him yesterday that if he did not make those statements, what I wanted him to do was to let the House know it, because it was published in an Associated Press article on the day before yesterday. As I said, I have no desire whatever to do the gentleman from Pennsylvania any injustice."

Mr. Weiss: "If the gentleman had let me make my statement yesterday, we would not have gone into all that tirade on the floor that occurred and my statement today would not have been necessary."

Mr. Rankin: "I was not the only one engaged in that debate."

Mr. Wright: "Mr. Speaker, will the gentleman yield?"

Mr. Weiss: "I yield to the gentleman from Pennsylvania."

Mr. Wright: "I should not like to let this occasion pass without joining my colleague from Pennsylvania [Mr. Eberharter] in testifying before this House to my admiration for the integrity, honor and truthfulness of the gentleman from Pennsylvania as an athlete, a lawyer, a sportsman, a legislator, and as a person who is interested in charities not only of his own faith but those of the Catholic and Protestant religions also. Sammy Weiss is recognized throughout Western Pennsylvania as a square shooter. He enjoys the respect of all the people in that district. I feel as confident that what the gentleman from Pennsylvania says on this floor today is true as if I had been at the meeting in which his speech was misrepresented and had heard his remarks myself."

Mr. Weiss: "I am grateful to the gentleman from Pennsylvania." Mr. Fish: "Mr. Speaker, will the gentleman yield"

Mr. Weiss: "I yield to the gentleman from New York."

Mr. Fish: "I want to be fair to the gentleman."

Mr. Weiss: "I know the gentleman does."

Mr. Fish: "I am still a little confused. I just want to have the Record correct. Did the gentleman say that any Nazi agent had ever sent out any speeches of mine?"

Mr. Weiss: "The question was asked me in that way, and I left the inference that had Sam Weiss permitted any of that to be done, with the prejudice that exists, the grand jury should have gone a step further and had me indicted."

Mr. Fish: "I am not concerned with the gentleman's indictment. I am glad of this opportunity to scotch these false and malicious rumors and smear propaganda that have been circulated for a number of years by communistic and radical sources. I am concerned with the facts. I want to know simply this: Did you make the statements?"

Mr. Weiss: "I did not."

Mr. Fish: "You did not?"

Mr. Weiss: "No."

Mr. Fish: "That is all I want to know."

Mr. Rowe: "Mr. Speaker, will the gentleman yield?"

Mr. Weiss: "I yield to the gentleman from Ohio."

Mr. Rowe: "The comment the gentleman made with reference to the gentleman from Michigan [Mr. Hoffman] and the gentleman from New York [Mr. Fish] was not made in the principal address but rather as the result of questions thereafter."

Mr. Weiss: "It was made at the conclusion of the forum discussion. It was put in the nature of a question. I do not know who the individual was who propounded the question."

Mr. Kunkel: "Mr. Speaker, will the gentleman yield?"

Mr. Weiss: "I yield to the gentleman from Pennsylvania."

Mr. Kunkel: "About two weeks ago the gentleman from Pennsylvania made a speech in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The first thing I knew about his having made that speech was when I began to receive highly pleasant letters telling me first, what a fine speech he had made, and secondly, what complimentary remarks the gentleman had made at the two meetings which he addressed about me and about my service in Congress.

"I should like to read to you from one of these letters to give an illustration of the reaction that occurred in Harrisburg. This letter was written by Eugene E. Miller, who is also a professional football referee. He was a great athlete at Penn State and a famous college referee also. He was formerly county comptroller of Dauphin County, leading the ticket when the returns were counted. He has taught in the public schools in that county for a great many years, and has the respect of parents and students alike. Today he is principal of the Edison Junior High School. This is a personal letter. If it were not, I should put the whole letter in the Record. He writes me as follows

" `Now, I'd like to say a word about Sammy Weiss, whom I like very much. He did a grand job up here on January 11, at the American Legion dinner honoring our senior high school football squads, and I wish you'd tell him when you speak with him that quite a number of fellows spoke to me about his fine message. There was no doubt about his attitude toward you in speaking to the people of your community, for he not only said you were a distinct credit to us, but he also told all of the gathering that there was no doubt about your importance in your particular activities in the Congress.'

"I may add that I have received a number of other letters, which time will not permit me to read, all of which are along the same line. When I was back in Harrisburg after his speech a number of people told me the same thing. While I was not present in Cleveland and cannot testify as to that speech, yet it seems to me that this reaction in Harrisburg has an evidential value in respect to the type of speech the gentleman from Pennsylvania makes. I welcome the opportunity of making this statement in behalf of my good friend."

Mr. Weiss: "I am indeed grateful to the gentleman."

Mr. Dilweg : "Mr. Speaker, will the gentleman yield?"

Mr. Weiss: "I yield to my athletic colleague from Wisconsin."

Mr. Dilweg: "Mr. Speaker, I have known the gentleman from Pennsylvania, Sam Weiss, for a period of about one year personally, but I have known him many years by reputation. He has much better sense than you ascribe to him when you think he could possibly make any such remarks. He has never spoken in my presence on the floor of the House or off the floor of the House in any disparaging way about any of his colleagues, to my knowledge. I think it is a dirty shame that the gentleman has to stand before this gathering and suffer from any such intimation."

Mr. Weiss: " I thank the gentleman very kindly."

Mr. Miller [of Pennsylvania] : "Mr. Speaker, will the gentleman yield ?

Mr. Weiss: "I yield to the gentleman from Pennsylvania."

Mr. Miller: "This is a shining example, Mr. Speaker, of a tempest in a teapot. The gentleman from Pennsylvania [Mr. Weiss] needs no defense from anyone. I saw a shining example of his fairness yesterday when he presided as chairman over a meeting of a sub-committee of the Committee on the Post Offices and Post Roads. He is a valiant soul and a valiant friend. He needs no defense from anyone. He is a valued Member of this body."

Mr. Weiss: "I appreciate the gentleman's remarks."

Congratulations poured in on Sammy that afternoon. Not only had the members of the House lauded him but, to his deep satisfaction, they showed a genuine Americanism that convinced him there was still a lot of fair play left in the world. This was the same House which had given almost an opposite impression, although by no means unanimously, just two days before. As he mulled over these things, he found the clipping from PM which his secretary had placed on his desk. He read it again:

"Washington, Jan. 27-Most of the House of Representatives of the U. S. Congress stood and applauded Rep. John Elliott Rankin (D.Miss.) yesterday as he concluded an obscene and Anti-Semitic speech denouncing Walter Winchell and PM as Trotskyites.

"Rankin's audience was larger than the one which listened an hour earlier to President Roosevelt's message opposing the Mississippian's soldiers vote bill as a 'fraud.' At the end, virtually all the Republicans and about half of the Democrats rose to their feet applauding Rankin.

"Rankin took the floor on a 'question of personal privilege' to answer a recent column by Walter Winchell attacking him and referring to him as 'Rankin of the House of Reprehensibles' for the way he emphasized the Jewish names attached to letters urging him to vote for the Federal soldiers' vote bill.

"Rankin retaliated by saying that Winchell's real name was Walter Lipshitz spelling the name out to make it sound obscene, as the House laughed. He also told how he had recently described Winchell to a friend as a 'kike-a Jew so loathsome that other Jews despised him.' The House laughed again.

"Rankin denied that he was anti-Semitic, asserting that when he read the names of the Jews on the letters he 'didn't know whether they were Jewish-or not.' He charged that Winchell and PM were 'persecuting the white gentiles' and asked 'how long are we going to submit to this kind of conduct ?'

"Rep. John E. Sheridan (D., Pa.) asked Rankin if there was 'anything reprehensible in the name Lipshitz.'

" 'Not any more than in the name Winchell, now,' Rankin replied. He refused to answer any more questions by Sheridan."

When he had finished reading, Sammy squeezed the clipping into a tiny ball in the palm of his hand. Then he got up, walked over to the window and took another look at the capitol dome. It was still there. He threw the little wad of paper into the waste basket and got his hat.

Federal building guards change shift three times each day. As Sammy stepped out of the old House Office Building, he said "Hello" to a new man for the third time at his customary exit. It was a little after midnight and even the workers in the War and Navy Department offices had quit for the night. Lights were still burning in the building behind him, but these were in rooms where charwomen worked. In less than an hour the lights would begin to blink out as the last desk was polished for the 531 gentlemen from the 48 states.

It had been a long day. Sammy remembered he had walked up the Hill while the government girls and the clerks were swarming into drug stores for the "quickie" of toast, orange juice and coffee which served them as breakfast. That would be 8:00 a.m., the hour Franklin D. Roosevelt was reported to waken for the half-and-half of milk and coffee he enjoyed as an eye opener. The Congressman swung into his usual on-the-double stride only to realize that he was tired and there was no need to hurry. Washington had relaxed for the night.

In a few hours the Congressional Record would be printed. It would carry all the verbal give and take on the floor. Sammy's answer to Rankin. What Fish said. And Clare Hoffman's concern for his own reputation. But nowhere would there be any mention that Sam had been too busy to telephone Jean. Or that he probably would not make it home to Glassport and Pittsburgh for the President's Birthday Ball tomorrow night. It was already January 29. He was cold and very, very tired. He missed his family. But when he pulled his coat about him before getting into a cab, he paused and looked back at the Dome, shining in the cold night air, and he knew he was ready and eager for another day. He had come out of the Rankin charges with colors flying.

Jimmy Murray, the radio sports announcer, once declared "Sammy Weiss is wasting good radio talent. He would be a jewel for any commercial sponsor because he can say more in fifteen minutes than anybody before or since Floyd Gibbons."

When Sammy heard this remark, he had a quick rejoinder.

"That isn't the way they tell it in Washington. I'm supposed to be the guy that long distance telephone story is about-the one where the visitor comes into the reception room and the secretary tells him, 'Congressman Weiss can't see you right away. He's talking to San Francisco.'

"And my visitor is supposed to have asked, 'Well, why doesn't he use the telephone?'

"That could have happened the day following a football game, I guess," Sammy admits, "but I deny it."

However, it is undeniable that Sammy can talk faster than an excited tobacco auctioneer, and when the occasion demands, he can talk mighty loudly. But neither speed nor volume is a substitute for sound argument. He revels in a good argument and enjoys the contention purely on its merits. Such an attitude has given rise to a variety of stories, one of which maintains that he became a Congressman so that he "could take part in one long continuous argument."

As an outspoken member of Congress he never denied this allegation. Now, in the quieter role of Judge he simply smiles and asks,

"How do you reconcile that with football refereeing? There's only one side to any argument there. The fellow with the whistle always wins. Of course, there are occasions when every whistle-tooter has a suspicion he is not going to win the argument. Sometimes an official even has reason to suspect that he is going to get a thorough mauling. I know."

Sammy ought to know. He was one of the principal figures in a story which is famous throughout the National Professional Football League. Every time a group of the boys assemble, the incident is sure to be brought up. It concerns Sammy's encounter with big George Musso at the Polo Grounds in New York. Those who witnessed the scene from the sidelines, say it looked like David trying to vanquish Goliath with a whistle. Sammy says he, the modern David of the little drama, would have felt more confident with a sling-shot.

The game was a rough-and-tumble contest between the Chicago Bears and the New York Giants. The Congressman knew from the start that he was in for a lively afternoon, although he did not suspect just how lively he soon would find it. Play was close and as McLean of the Giants darted through right tackle for a 35-yard gain, Sammy spotted an open-and-shut case of holding. One player opened his mammoth arms, shut them, and held the opposing player, very much against his will and the rules.

Sammy blew his whistle.

He yelled at the top of his voice, "Musso holding," illustrating what he meant by the customary signal of the referee, his right hand clasping his left wrist for the enlightenment of the 60,000 fans.

The next thing Sammy knew he was looking squarely into the eyes of George Musso, 267 pound guard of the Chicago Bears. They were angry eyes. But this was of slight significance to Sammy alongside the fact that he was returning the furious Mr. Musso a level gaze, although Musso stood 6 feet, 3 inches tall whereas Sammy's outlook on life, up to this time, had been from an elevation of only 5 feet, 4 inches. Musso was holding once more. He was holding Sammy at arm's length, demanding,

"Where are your eyes, Shorty? What was that for?"

Sammy said nothing while he gathered himself mentally.

"I'd like to throw you up in those stands," Musso continued, indicating the roaring sea of faces watching this new contest with tense fascination. Sammy wondered how far Musso could actually throw him. It also passed through his mind, and he almost smiled at the idea, that usually it is the crowd which throws something at the Ump. Musso's threatened feat would certainly be a novelty for the fans.

Then Musso put him down. He did not drop him. Rather he lowered his arms in frustration until Sammy's feet touched the playing field. Before he measured off any penalty yardage, Sammy looked up at the big man. "Listen, Musso," he said, "I don't like that. These 60,000 fans don't like it. And the League doesn't like it. I'm going to penalize you 15 yards more, and when I report it to Layden, it will cost you $300."

With that off his chest, Sammy explained the first penalty for holding, stepped off 15 yards additional "for unsportsmanlike conduct," and whistled the ball back into play. Then he breathed a sigh of relief which seemed to come from his shoes. He felt lucky as well as relieved. The big guard might have acted even more hastily and far more violently than he actually had. As it was, Musso was still angry as a bee on an artificial flower. He was not quite so furious as at first, but he was disturbed enough to make him, perhaps, relish the breaking of someone's arm or leg. Sammy could not free his mind from the notion that Musso had some such treatment in store for him.

When the half ended, Sammy started toward the clubhouse. As he walked off the field he could hear heavy steps behind him. Someone was trying to overtake him before he reached the dressing rooms. He felt a wind-pushing breeze made by the arrival of a great bulk, something like the boom shifting with a schooner's mainsheet. Next he felt a big hand on his shoulder. Sure enough, it was Musso. But instead of whirling Sammy around, Musso waited patiently until Sammy turned.

"Mr. Congressman," Musso said, "I'm awfully sorry. I lost my temper and I want to apologize."

If Sammy was surprised, he was also pleased. He shook hands with Musso and told him he would report his latest action to Layden in extenuation of his conduct on -the field. Layden would be considerate of a man like that, Sammy knew. And he was. The fine paid by Musso was only $100.

Sammy could have told Musso and did tell Layden of a similar incident in which Sammy himself had been the offending player. Having been on both sides of the fence in such things, Sammy felt that he could deal out whistle justice on a fair basis. He was glad that Musso had been shown leniency. While Sammy knew that he must assert the referee's authority through the power of the whistle, he also remembers that he was not averse to tossing a punch or two in his playing days. It was in the heat of a football fray during his third year at Duquesne University that Sammy went berserk. The Dukes were playing Dayton University. This is what happened as he remembers it now

"Dan Rooney, a brother of Art, the Pittsburgh Steeler owner, and now a chaplain, protested a decision rather vehemently. The referee didn't like Dan's remonstrance. We were penalized an additional 15 yards. I immediately proceeded to take issue with the referee, who was about three times my size. Seeing that my arguments were of no avail, I hauled off and took a sock at the ref. He merely picked me up, carried me to the sidelines and tossed me out of the game. Right then I learned the lesson that the referee is always right."

Sammy not only knows that fact today but is charged with upholding it, armed with the most powerful weapon in the world-a whistle. "At least, that is the way you are supposed to feel about it," he explains. " The technique reminds me of that old sea chantey we used to find in Pirate stories when we were kids- 'Blow the man down.' Only, as I recall it, the old salt in the song didn't take the chances a referee does because the song actually stipulates, 'Oh, give me some time to blow the man down.' The football guys never do."

It is understandable if he and other referees sometimes wonder whether it is they or the players who are penalized. Besides the rough going-over which is not infrequently their lot, those striped-shirt heroes begin training in July for the following season, take an annual physical examination, and then spend a dozen successive weekends trying to step on every blade of grass in 100 yards of gridiron, whenever they are not being stepped on themselves. One bright feature of the occupation, it would seem to the layman, is that it lasts for only twelve Sundays a season. But every one of the twenty-two National League officials regrets season's end. None of them participate for the money. In the Pro League an official is never hired if he needs the scratch. He must be financially comfortable, a chap who is serving just for the exercise and for the good of the game. Such sportsmen are still to be found, as in the days when knighthood was in flower.

Speaking of the Middle Ages, Sammy's ancestors must have been honorable knights, fond of the joust and pledged to right wrongs. He makes no such claims, but Sammy has a hankering to spread justice that can be explained only in such manner.

He has rescued many a sports cause from the unbelievers with one of his characteristic one-man crusades. This activity had begun before he was elected to the 77th Congress and it extended right through the 78th Congress and his one year with the 79th Congress. Few of these activities were ever carried on as single enterprises. Usually he had several going at once, tending to them with the dexterity of a master juggler, and practically always coming through without a fumble. As evidence of the success of one crusade, consider the following letter which Acting Secretary of War Robert P. Patterson sent to Sammy on September 1, 1944:

"I have your letter of August 19 addressed to the Secretary of War advising of your interest in the Army-Navy Football Game this year and in a boxing contest between Sgt. Joe Louis Barrow and Corp. Billy Conn. You express the hope that both of these events may be held under conditions which would promote the sale of war bonds or provide funds for Army Emergency Relief.

"Because of the nature of their military assignments, Sgt. Barrow and Corp. Conn cannot be made available for a boxing match such as you propose at this time, since it is not the length of time which would necessarily be required for training for such a contest.

"As you know, the Army-Navy Football Game is always played on a "home and home" basis. Under that system of rotation the Naval Academy is the home team this year and is making all arrangements for the playing of the game and for the handling of the other details which normally are supervised by the home team. According to press reports the Navy Department contemplates following the procedures of the last two years when the games were played on the home grounds at the two academies."

Sammy did not agree with this viewpoint. As things turned out later, it seems that neither President Roosevelt nor the public agreed. However, FDR had not said much about the matter.

Both of Congressman Weiss' secretaries will tell you that he did everything but hop up on his desk over the Army-Navy game. When Patterson's letter arrived, he stepped up his desk-pounding to a stacatto, his telephone technique acquired frequency modulation and his footwork became speedier than Fred Astaire's. Then came word from the Navy. That really set Sammy off.

Sammy took the floor on Tuesday, September 5, 1944. He minced no words. If you had been sitting in the visitor's gallery that afternoon, you would have heard him open fire on the major fighting branches. His aim was good. Listen:

"Mr. Speaker, the edict issued by the Honorable James V. Forrestal, Secretary of the Navy, banning the Army vs. Navy Football Game from public scrutiny amazes me. To me, and I know that I speak for millions of American sportsloving fans, the edict-as Whitney Martin, well-known sports columnist, said-is 'incongruous.' It verges on the so-called hysteria that enveloped this nation after Pearl Harbor. Then it might have been fully justified. Or even in 1943, but certainly not now.

"I have been one hundred per cent behind the War program, and we all recognize that although the road ahead is rough, victory will soon be with us. During the past two crucial years, the American sports public graciously accepted the order of the Army and Navy with respect to this great classic. Nevertheless, it was perplexing for the public to understand why such a policy was required here in the United States when England, only a few miles from hostile air fields and hostile guns, has continued her sports schedule for the benefit of crowds of 125,000 at single events. It seems a trifle on the 'silly' side for the United States, practically out of the danger zone, to be so cautious in our sports program.

"During the past three years, we know that the American people have performed a miraculous job of production. We have out-produced the world in planes, tanks, guns, shells, and in all implements of war. Morale has definitely been a great factor in attaining these production records. And in the interest of morale, we need a good sports schedule. The British have set a good example. After five years of war, the British firmly believe that the morale value of sports in wartime fully justifies its continuance and for the 1944-45 season the British Sports Coordinator has scheduled sixty-five athletic events that will attract approximately 3,000,000 people. A Gallup Poll has shown that the American people favor war-time sports; and that they favor the Army vs. Navy game being played for the benefit of the general public. However, after three years of effort, I am practically convinced that trying to change the edict of an "arm chair" strategist in Washington is more futile than batting one's head against a brick wall. The answers I get are 'military expediency prohibits,' 'would impede the war effort,' or 'these limitations are imposed in accordance with war-time necessity for economy,' or that 'our principal desire is to avoid any unnecessary burden upon transportation facilities and to discourage non-essential use of gasoline and tires.' These answers are plain hokum. The American people have accepted rationing and other restrictions willingly as a part of the war burden. But no American individual will be able to interpret Secretary Forrestal's reason for again submerging the Army vs. Navy game. His reasons are more confusing than any of the multitude of OPA or WPB regulations. The Navy can't go to Philadelphia or New York to play the Army, but the Navy can go to Cleveland to play Notre Dame before an expected 80,000. The Army can't go to Philadelphia or New York to play the Navy, but it can go to New York to play Notre Dame before an anticipated 78,000. The drain on transportation facilities is listed as a drawback; yet the Navy is scheduled to play as far south as Atlanta, Georgia. This just doesn't make sense. The service teams aren't permitted to play before crowds when they play each other, but they are permitted to travel thousands of miles to play outside opposition in heavily populated centers.

"Further, various rallies and drives are set up at considerable expense to the Treasury Department to sell more War Bonds and to help prevent inflation. Then when we have a natural like the Army vs. Navy football game which would account for the sale of a billion dollars' worth of bonds-and it could be sponsored by the United States Treasury Department-the military authorities put a damper on it. In addition, the failure to play this game before the general public will cost the taxpayers millions of dollars as the Academies will be compelled to come to Congress to obtain appropriations to replenish their depleted funds.

"If the strategists at home, or the powers that be, insist on making a dud out of the Army vs. Navy game, why don't they call it off entirely? Either give the game back to the American people where it belongs, or quit giving phony excuses. Our sports-loving public catches on easily enough."

What do you think happened? Well, the boys in the Press Gallery gave that speech a lot of mention. Rumor has it that FDR got a lot of chuckles out of it. Sammy got another "Dear Sammy" note and some positive action. There were, of course, a lot of people who wanted to take the credit after it happened. About this Sammy worried not at all.

"Let's not get any wrinkles over who did it," he would answer, "all that matters is that it was done."

This was a generous way of looking at it, but you can't fool the sports writers because they are not only fair-dealing guys, but also reporters with eyes for facts. In the daily newspapers the facts were given as the writing guys saw them. Typical in sentiment was the column of the Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph's Sports Editor, Harry Keck, a sage and gentlemanly scribe who talks almost as fast as Sammy. With Mr. Keck's kind permission, you may read his version of this particular Washington scramble

"The belated decision, right on the deadline for the printing of tickets, to move the Army-Navy football game, two weeks from today, from the Navy's home field at Annapolis, Maryland, to the Baltimore Stadium may represent a triumph for many persons who have battled to put an end to the silly business of hiding away the service feature during the war, but one man stands out above all the others for consideration when credit is being passed out. He is Representative Sammy Weiss, of Glassport, a Democrat and redhot football bug. In fact, a referee in the National League and a former Duquesne University star quarterback. Sammy wasn't one of the Johnny-Come-Latelys aboard the 'Move the Army-Navy Game or Bust' bandwagon. He was out there leading a vain campaign last year and he bounced back and started it early to have this year's game moved into a spot with sufficient capacity to permit of a War Bonds sales tie-in.

"The Office of Defense Transportation said it would be an outrage to stage the game where many thousands of people would clutter up the scenery to attend it. Its idea was to secrete it away, as was done at West Point last year, and permit the sale of tickets only to persons residing within a very limited radius of the place, despite the fact that it was pointed out that, if it were to be played in New York, Philadelphia or Baltimore, all of the tickets could be disposed of to the people in those cities overnight, or as fast as they could be handled, without imposing on any travel restrictions.

"It was not until some newspapermen started going after Secretary of the Treasury, Henry Morgenthau, and built a fire under him that the campaign really began to set somewhere. Mr. Morgenthau, whose job it is to sell the War Bonds, was told bluntly that if the Treasury Department didn't want to sell bonds on the strength of the year's greatest 'natural' football game, he might as well quit kidding the scribes about how helpful sports can be in assisting him in his work.

"That got the old gent stirred up, and he said, 'Oh my, yes. Let's move the game. We can sell five million or maybe fifty million dollars' worth of bonds.'

"Everybody was running in several directions (at the same time), including the President, who up to yesterday afternoon said at a press conference he didn't have any idea where the game was going to be played. Several hours later, the Navy made a terse announcement of the shift to the Baltimore Stadium which can seat more than 60,000 and is situated in a city which has had a great war growth and has been enjoying the biggest sports boom in its history.

"With the boys now taking bows for having forced the brass hats' hand on the game, don't forget the man who was trying to get them to do the same thing last year and again carried the torch from the start this year-Sammy Weiss (D), of Glassport. He's our pin-up man of words and action."

Mr. Grantland Rice has permitted us to add his sum-up of the contest about which so much fuss was made. Thus you will have it, on the authority of one of the greatest sports writers of all time, that Sammy was not jousting with windmills when he advocated the "Army-Navy game for the people." Mr. Rice praised the subject of Sammy's crusade in these words:

"In the dim, golden and peaceful era of sport we have had many great contests, such as the two Tunney-Dempsey fights that took in close to $4,000,000, the two Louis-Schmeling ensembles, and all the world series contests, especially the Cardinal-Yankee battles.

"But I can promise you all these dip below the horizon compared with the coming contest between the two mighty teams of Army and Navy at Baltimore on December 2. These two teams, if they had a Tea Rickard or a Mike Jacobs promoting the pageant at Philadelphia's Sesquicentennial Stadium or Chicago's Soldier Field, could easily pass the $2,000,000 mark. If there were room enough, they could easily play before 1,000,000 Americans.

"In this war year Army and Navy will present two of the finest football squads ever assembled on any single field. The Baltimore Stadium, which can pass the 70,000 mark, will get this record spectacle, for this was Navy's year to name the home plot, and Baltimore, a swiftly growing sport community, is Navy's home territory.

" The reason for all this is simple enough. This country has been football-minded for many years. And Army and Navy do not mean North or South, East or West. Their two football teams mean something close to the pick of the United States from coast to coast, from the Great Lakes to the Gulf.

"Army has Glenn Davis from California, Doug Kenna from Mississippi, Doe Blanchard from Louisiana and South Carolina, Ed Rafalko from Massachusetts, Dick Pitzer from Pennsylvania, Joe Stanowicz from New Jersey, Max Minor from Texas, and Bobby Dodds from Oklahoma. This Army team covers the football map.

"The same is true of Navy. The Midshipmen have Don Whitmire and Bobby Jenkins, two of Alabama's leading stars; Dick Duden from New Jersey, Roaring Clyde Scott from Smackover, Arkansas; Bruce Smith from Florida, the Martins, Ben and Jack, from Pennsylvania and Ohio; Dave Barksdale from North Carolina, and Hal Hamberg, who reports from Arkansas.

"It must be admitted that the combined material of Army and Navy is far above the rivals they have had to meet. Both have fine lines, Navy especially, and together the two teams have at least twenty excellent backs.

"Both teams are ably coached, by Lieut.-Col. Earl Blaik at West Point and Commander Oscar Hagberg at Annapolis, and both head men are aided by high-class staffs, including Lieut.-Commander Rip Miller and Keith Molesworth of Navy and Herman Hickman and Major Andy Gustafson of Army.

"This is why the coming Army-Navy game approaches the historic side in American Sport. You may think this is putting a bundle of pressure on our future generals and admirals. But war is the final word in pressure. Pressure is one of the main words in our language when it comes to hard competition.

"And football between two such teams as Army and Navy, well matched, means mental, physical and psychological pressure to the last degree. It means better officers in this war and in any wars to come. It means the result of discipline, condition, ability to think quickly in critical moments, spirit in action, hard body contact, speed, hardihood. And there is the top word of them all-hardihood-this covers the field.

"It is for these reasons the coming Army-Navy game takes its place as the most important event we've yet known in American sport. And this includes all the heavyweight championships and all the world series I've looked at during the last forty years."

No sooner was the location of the Army-Navy game definitely settled than Sammy fired another torpedo. And please bear in mind that his sports enthusiasms were all in addition to a full schedule of war legislation, speeches, flying trips home and to various parts of the country, and regular week-end professional football officiating. How he found time even to glance at things which required his attention is something which could provide a couple of good chapters for a textbook on success. Sammy sums up his technique by asserting, "Why, the best way to find time is to be busy." If you think that is a contradiction in terms, you should meet Sammy personally. And, if your heart is good, let him take you with him on a football week end.

Since we are quoting newspaper authorities in this section of Sammy's story, let's have the testimony of Vincent X. Flaherty of the Washington Times-Herald on another of Sammy's projects:

"Congressman Samuel Weiss, of Pittsburgh, who jumped on the stadium-for-Washington bandwagon yesterday on the floor of the House, thinks the stadium should be built to accommodate not 60,000 people, nor 100,000, but 200,000! And if you think I think the Congressman is crazy, you're off the beam. I agree with him.

"I agree with him because a stadium equipped to seat 100,000 isn't big enough. If an attraction, sports or otherwise, is big enough to draw 100,000 people-there are 100,000 more people stomping around trying to buy tickets.

"The Army-Navy game never has drawn 200,000 spectators only because there isn't a stadium large enough to hold 200,000 spectators. Thousands of ticket requests are returned to the senders by the authorities at Annapolis and West Point every year.

" 'There are other stadia around the country,' said Weiss last night, 'that will hold 100,000 people. Let's look to the future. Let's make the stadium for the capital of the world the greatest stadium in the world.

" 'Our Nation's Capital,' said Weiss, 'should have the finest stadium in the world. Let's drive home this point!"

"There are many attractions that will not fill a big stadium. When Washington gets its stadium there will be no logic in feeding it attraction that will draw 20,000 people. It is well to keep in mind the fact that Washington has a stadium at Seventh and Florida Avenue-Grifth Stadium-that can take care of smaller crowds. The big stadium should be erected for the express purpose of caring for attractions of classic proportions.

"The Redskin-Chicago Bear battle for the pro championship in 1942 might have drawn 200,000 people. If you don't think so, check with Sid Carroll, general manager of the Redskins, and he'll describe the piles of ticket requests that had to be returned. They came from everywhere.

"There come occasions when opening games, or deciding games of the World Series, would draw 200,000. Many times the Washington ball club has had 100,000 requests for opening game tickets. If Washington gets a 200,000 capacity stadium, there may be few times when the stadium is sold out, but there will be fewer times when sports fans are turned away from the gates. A great stadium could take care of such demands. The Washington ball club and the Redskins could use the big stadium in such emergencies.

"The Board of Trade Stadium Committee is making a great battle to put the project across in first class style. I think they have the thing rolling and will carry it through to a swift and successful conclusion. I think it would be wonderful if the stadium were up and ready before the close of the war. Then, when the boys come marching home in that big and happy parade, they can march into the world's greatest stadium and make a swing around the field before 200,000 welcoming Americans.

"While Floyd Akers, chairman of the committee, and all the rest are doing a bang-up job and are winning just acclaim, let's not forget others who have been campaigning for the stadium for years-who went about the task quietly, but sincerely putting in their licks on Capitol Hill and in all other effective places.

"There is Capt. J. Leighton Cornwell, just back from France, who is now recuperating in Walter Reed Hospital. Cornwell put in a lot of work on the project. There is Fred Picket, now at sea in the Maritime Wervice. During the depression years when WPA was building stadia for everywhere except Washington, Picket worked tirelessly and ceaselessly in winning interested listeners.

"At one time Picket came up with a petition containing the signatures of 5,000 prominent Washingtonians. He mailed out countless letters, gave much of his time, and spent his own money to do the job. And Picket's crusading had its effect: His work in the past will be a big factor in the ultimate success of the present drive. I think the least the Board of Trade Committee could do would be to place the name of Cornwell and Picket on the committee."

Not much has been done of this project as yet, but you should be convinced by this time that if Sammy had stayed in Congress, they would probably today be printing tickets for extra bleacher seats in this new stadium to accommodate an additional 50,000 people. A quarter million people at a sports event? Why sure. If the game wasn't good, the fans could always watch Sammy, who is as popular an attraction as many a gridiron star.

Among the letters and documents most carefully preserved in the Weiss home in Glassport, Pennsylvania, are a number on White House stationery. They are signed by Franklin D. Roosevelt. One of them, dated March 17, 1944, was written by President Roosevelt on his wedding anniversary. When it came in the mail, Sammy was pleased by the friendly warmth of the short note. But when Jean saw it, she found an added savor in speculating whether FDR had been thinking back to the day, thirty-nine years before, when President Theodore Roosevelt had attended young Franklin's wedding to Eleanor in New York City. That had been St. Patrick's Day, 1905. She wondered how he and his wife had celebrated the day in 1944.

Sammy teased her about this.

"Well, I'm quite sure he didn't forget their anniversary even if he is President of the United States," she insisted.

He knew he was treading on dangerous ground but could not resist asking, in his best courtroom manner

"You don't mean to say, Mrs. Weiss, that your husband actually forgot a wedding anniversary? Why, that is cruel and barbarous treatment and constitutes grounds for divorce."

Jean tossed a chair cushion at him and laughed.

"No, Mr. Counsellor, but he has had some very close calls. In fact, I am almost sure that he remembered by pure luck on one or two occasions. "

"Ah, yes," he continued with mock sympathy, "he must be a veritable beast. You poor woman, how you must have suffered. To what do you attribute this callous failure on his part"

"To one cruel fact," she replied, "he failed to marry his wife on St. Patrick's Day as the President did. The parades and speeches would have reminded him."

Once again Jean had worked him nicely into a corner in this game of pleasant banter which they both love. For Sammy had made a speech for his Irish friends at a St. Patrick's Day banquet a day or two before. Indeed, he doubled in shamrocks so well that he could speak with a passable brogue when occasion or a story required. He had acquired this talent from Father Martin A. Hehir, Father Pat McDermott and some of the other Irish priests of the faculty while he was a student at Duquesne University. Jean's mention of St. Patrick's Day brought memories of campus days which seemed to have swept as swiftly by as the wind-tossed leaves of many football seasons. When his thoughts came back to 1944 in the return journey up the years, he was almost surprised to find himself holding the President's letter in his own pleasant living room. Jean was looking at him intently.

"Life is so swift, isn't it, Sammy ?" she said simply.

He nodded. Her understanding was beyond anything he could fathom and he loved her the more for it.

"So swift," he agreed. "And I think it was Andre Maurois who said: 'Life is too short to be little.' Roosevelt knows that. Life is so much bigger for so many people because of him that I sometimes find myself wondering how long we shall have him with us. The strain must be crushing. He has the whole world on his mind. And yet-" he held up the letter, "He can find time to answer a little fellow like me. "

Roosevelt had written

"Dear Sammy

"Sincerely yours,

"Franklin D. Roosevelt."

That year of 1944 was destined to be a significant year for both of them. FDR was going to be elected to a fourth term with Senator Harry Truman as his running mate. Sammy was to carry on with his work in the Congress at a more intensive rate than ever. It would have been intensive under almost any circumstances. It was little short of frenzied, albeit a controlled and directed frenzy, as a result of that Roosevelt note and a conversation which followed it a few weeks later. On March 8, Sammy had introduced a Bill to enact into law the suggestion of Ernie Pyle, Scripps-Howard columnist and war correspondent, that soldiers in combat be given extra "fight pay." The Weiss Bill sought to amend the military pay law to put soldiers and sailors in actual combat on the same basis as Air Forces flying personnel who get fifty per cent additional as flight pay. In a column written from Italy during the latter part of February Ernie Pyle had suggested that the ground soldier-then slogging over a bone-chilling Italy-be given "some little form of recognition more than he is getting now." Fight pay, Pyle felt, would set the combat soldier apart from his comrades who were serving behind the lines. It would have been surprising if Sammy, an inveterate Pyle reader, had not acted on the suggestion with a well-drawn bill while other legislators were still telling each other that it was a suggestion with a lot of merit. Within fifteen minutes of the time Sammy read the Pyle column, he began calling Army officials and sounding out his constituents back home. Both groups favored the idea so he ordered a bill prepared and then sent Ernie a letter!

"The article you wrote urging Congress to grant increased incentive pay to our combat fighting men based on the same scale as the pay given combat fliers has won the approval of the American people. In fact, many of our military leaders have informed me that they are in accord with your suggestion. I am having a bill prepared along these lines and expect to introduce it within a few days. Full credit goes to you for the idea.

"I firmly believe you are doing a magnificent job to stimulate morale-not only of our fighting men and women-but also the American people, with your honest and forthright articles concerning the actual things happening on the fighting fronts."

Many months later Sammy was to learn from Ernie Pyle himself, before the great correspondent went to his death in the Pacific, that Pyle had felt very much buoyed by the favorable reaction to his suggestion. He told Sammy that he had resolved to meet the Pennsylvania Congressman whenever he returned to the States "because I was amazed that anybody in Congress would read anything that fast, much less act on it so quickly." Both Ernie and Sammy enjoyed a good laugh over this statement, to which Bob Taylor, Washington correspondent of The Pittsburgh Press had added, "Could it be that you had never before met any members of Congress, Ernie?"

"Maybe I had met too many," said Ernie, laconically.

This conversation took place a long time after, and was a happy event which will always be remembered by the little Congressman who tried to make the capital of the United States match his fortissimo pace. The eventual meeting made up in part for some of the sad news and trying hours which were to come.

There was favorable comment from other sources as well. While, the bill was pending, President Roosevelt expressed satisfaction over Sammy's action on one of the rare war-time occasions when Congressman Weiss was able to visit the White House. He was with a group of House members but FDR made Sammy tingle all over and feel good for weeks simply by calling out,

"Sammy, I hope they do right by the Ernie Pyle Bill."

Sammy hoped they would, too. But he was to find that b i,4 brimming enthusiasm was not shared by all members of the House. Representative Andrew J. May of Kentucky, Chairman of the powerful House Military Affairs Committee, was one of these. When Sammy put his bill in the hopper, Congressman May announced that the Military Affairs Committee would reconsider the entire military pay law. This would be undertaken after the Committe disposed of such problems as amendment of the selective service law and termination of war contracts.

May contended, "There are a number of leaks in the military pay law now, and we want to get them all in the same basket and consider them as a whole. "

Sammy had an idea how long this would take. It was not encouraging. He did not think Ernie would feel happy about it when he heard.

"It isn't that the men would be fighting for more money," he explained. "This measure would let them know their government recognizes their service. Ernie doesn't put things in his column just because they're his ideas-he has talked with the troops."

However, the bill was destined to become just "one of the bills in the committee's basket." As Sammy sat down, he fingered the newspaper clipping of the column in which Ernie had written: "There is no official distinction between the dogface lying for days and nights under constant mortar fire on an Italian hill, and the headquarters clerk living comfortably in a hotel in Rio de Janeiro.

"One lives like a beast and dies in great numbers. The other is merely working away from home. Both are doing necessary jobs, but it seems to me the actual warrior deserves something to set him apart. And medals are not enough.

"When I was at the front line the last time, several infantry of cers brought up this same suggestion. They say combat pay would mean a lot to the fighting man. It would put him in a proud category and make him feel that somebody appreciates what he endures.

"Obviously no soldier would ever go into combat just to get extra 'fight pay.' There is not enough money in the world to pay any single individual his due for battle suffering.

"But it would put a mark of distinction on him, a recognition that his miserable job was a royal one and that the rest of us were aware of it. "

As he put down the clipping for perhaps the fiftieth time, Sammy looked over at Congressman May for a moment or two. He shook his head. Either May had never read Ernie Pyle's column about "fight. pay," or there was something awfully wrong in his attitude toward those who were doing the actual fighting of the war.

Later that day reporters wanted to know from Sammy how much he estimated the Fight Pay Bill would cost.

"Under our present scale of operations I'd say about six hundred million dollars," he told them.

None of the writers seemed to think that was too much money for the purpose. The sponsor of the bill agreed heartily.

Well, the bill was in, Sammy told himself as he went to bed that night. But a lot of time was to pass before the bill itself would pass, incredible as it may seem now.

There was a lot to think of as the days went by. In Italy, air forces were trying to take Monte Cassino from the Germans, hampered by foul weather and Hitler's fanatical First Parachute Division. The Monastery perched atop Hill 516 seemed almost impregnable. Then on March 23, dispatches said Britain's General Alexander had called off the battle of Monte Cassino and time dragged, with the Gustaf line holding doubly secure in the winter weather. As the folks on the home front scanned their morning and evening papers, going and coming from work or while the coffee cooled, they were heartened by the mighty activity of Lieut.-General Ira Eaker's Mediterranean Air Force which was systematically wrecking enemy rail yards as far north as Florence. Rumania's huge Ploesti oil fields received the same pulverizing action from air sorties of Eaker forces. But in the hearts of the mothers and fathers at home there was mingled a growing dread of things which they felt were in the making for Europe. Somehow, like a dull ache of an impending duty which may not be escaped, they knew that invasion of Europe would bring sorrow and heartbreak throughout America even as it would bring liberation to the suffering people of Europe. All this underscored Sammy's actions, weighed upon him, made him impatient of the delays put upon legislation which he considered of such importance that his fellow members of Congress might well deny themselves sleep and food to advance it into law. Why some of the men who had taken the Congressional oath did not reflect the stark realism of war days was a constant puzzle to him. Had they never watched the faces of mothers and fathers in the railroad stations? Could it be that they were so removed from the little tragedies of the common man that they had never seen sweethearts and war brides cling in desperate tears or brave restraint to men who were leaving, perhaps never to return? Deep down in his heart there was a gnawing ache. It seemed that to some men the lives of the plain people were of less importance than the thousands of starlings which fluttered about the capital buildings to the annoyance of all Washington.

Letters arrived by the thousands urging action on the Ernie Pyle bill. His overworked secretarial staff remained late and came early to handle the additional burden of correspondence. Sammy found his week-ends at home growing more and more infrequent. He missed Jean and the children and long distance telephone calls would not fill his need to be with them.

When he did make it to Glassport for the first time in a month, Jean was shocked by his worn appearance.

"You can't keep it up, Sam," she warned him.

He was so tired he almost agreed with her. But he shook his head.

"Honey , they can't quit in Italy no matter how tired they are. And the Navy boys in the submarines are missed by their families, too. Only, it's . . . its so darn discouraging. Some people in Washington don't. seem to feel how urgent everything is. They don't. . . I almost think they don't care. But that can't be so. No. Maybe they just don't know how it feels to be a little person who needs someone to plead his cause or look out for him. I keep thinking of the people who used to come to my office to have their letters written. If a lot of us don't take their problems seriously, there isn't any use of fighting a war or trying to have our kind of government."

"You're going to run again this fall," Jean remarked, not so much as a question as acceptance of a fact.

"I've got to, honey. You wouldn't think much of me if I didn't. And I know I wouldn't like myself . . . in fact, I couldn't walk out of it now. Not with the war on. And I don't think I am so very important or that things wouldn't go on without me. It's just that every person has a bit to do and this is my part." He stopped and looked at his wife. Jean said nothing, waiting for him to go on.

"But I know what is worrying you," he continued. "It's the money. We can't keep dipping into our savings forever. And being a Congressman is costing us money."

"Not just us, Sammy," she told him. "We're taking money from the children's future . . . their education. It's they who are making a war sacrifice. I'm really worried. None of us would want you to pass up re-election this year. But there will be campaign expenses and contributions. I don't know where it is coming from. But we'll make out somehow," she concluded.

Back in Washington after his visit home, Sammy felt easier in mind than he had for weeks. Talking with Jean always helped. His eagerness to get war legislation moving faster had not lessened in any way, and he was especially concerned about progress on the Ernie Pyle bill. He was not alone in this. On April 30, the Philadelphia Record published a lead editorial:

"SHALL ONE CONGRESSMAN STOP SOLDIERS' 'FIGHT PAY'

"We have yet to hear a voice raised against the proposal of Columnist Ernie Pyle that soldiers and sailors in actual combat be given 'fight pay' in addition to their regular basic wage rates.

"A bill has been introduced into the House of Representatives by Congressman Samuel A. Weiss (D., Pa.) which would provide a fifty per cent bonus similar to the fight pay for airmen.

"That was more than seven weeks ago.

"Only progress has been in the amount of dust Chairman Andrew J. May (D., Ky.), of the House Military Affairs Committee, has permitted the bill to collect.

"He's far from enthusiastic about it, his own committee members say.

"May himself asserts he has been so busy he hasn't got around to reading the bill.

"It looks like the 'slow death' treatment.

"But that bill must not be killed. Not by one man who is virtually all powerful in determining whether it shall see the light of day.

"The American people, among them Chairman May's constituents, are overwhelmingly in favor of 'fight pay.'

"That was demonstrated in a recent Gallup Poll in The Evening Bulletin which showed seventy per cent of the public is for it.

"And that seventy per cent would be willing to pay higher taxes to provide it! . . .

"The Record threw its editorial support behind 'fight pay' immediately after Columnist Pyle suggested it.

"Our editorial on the proposal was sent to various papers throughout the nation with a suggestion that they keep the ball rolling with editorials of their own.

"The St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times in a recent editorial stated:

" `The Philadelphia Record was the first paper in the United States to take up Ernie's idea editorially. Its article on it was so good that The Times [St. Petersburg] picked it up "as was".'

"The Portland Oregonian said it would be a big boost to morale. The Dallas Morning News said certainly the men deserve some recognition.

"The Sacramento (Calif.) Union urged the War Department and Congress to consider it, and the Rock Island (Ill.) Argus said the idea would gain 'overwhelming public support.'

"These were but a few of the newspapers which raised their voices for generous treatment of the men who braved the shot and shell of the enemy on all fronts.

"Various patriotic and civic organizations also have gone on record in favor of Pyle's idea.

"Of the twenty-five members of Chairman May's committee, seventeen are for the bill.

"But Chairman May is blocking a vote. At least that impression seems inescapable by his failure to move the bill.

"There is, of course, the possibility that Chairman May somehow failed to observe the great public sentiment rolling up behind the 'fight pay' idea.

"Well, now he knows.

"From now on, we'll know, too-whether he wants to play fair by moving the bill for Congressional action."

Ten days previously the Gallup Poll had reported that seventy per cent of the American people favored fight pay for combat soldiers. Evidently Chairman May did not read the Gallup Poll or did not believe in it. He did not appear to be concerned about newspaper criticism because he took no action on the bill. It was about one week before the nation was to be surprised and stirred by news of the great European invasion that Sammy received a personal letter from Ernie Pyle. It was dated May 21, 1944, and came from England. Ernie wanted Sammy to know that he was happy that Congress was going to do something to recognize the mud-slogging foot soldiers who bore the burden of combat. Neither Ernie nor the men who were -then readying for the great European invasion would have been flattered by the lack of interest in the measure exhibited by some members of Congress. Nobody knew just when "The Big Show" was going to come off, but everybody, including the Germans, expected it to come soon. So the Germans waited. Our troops waited. Congress waited. And thousands of mothers and fathers waited and prayed as the newspaper accounts told that the invasion might be poised to strike . . . waiting . . . waiting . . . with only Eisenhower's high command headquarters in control of the great secret. This was indeed a war of nerves.

A certain day in June had already been set. As it approached there roared down on the English channel what was described as "the worst gale in forty years." General "Ike" Eisenhower cancelled that date, the fifth of June, and waited once again. Not for long. Just twenty-four hours. Then, the gale lifted. General Eisenhower seized his opportunity. Airborne troops took off shortly after midnight. Then, word was passed along to board the invasion barges, part of the great armada of 4,000 boats and 11,000 planes, poised on the English coast waiting for the hour to strike. At 6:30 a.m.-H-Hour-they cast off. In those boats were men who knew they were going to certain death. Yet they went resolutely, seeking to secure for their loved ones and for their country and for oppressed peoples of the world a peace which they themselves would find only in another world. Suddenly . . . in Washington . . . in Moline . . . in Montpelier . . . in Glassport . . . the radios came alive to the great news. Our striking power was beyond anything which the German High Command had anticipated. Our invasion of German-held France on June 6, 1944, was overwhelmingly successful. We had landed and "were moving inward." From the United States, in the night which followed that historic sunrise over the English channel, the voice of Franklin D. Roosevelt went out to the people. Sammy sat tensely before his radio as the voice traversed the dark Atlantic and found its way to the men and women of England . . . to our forces now in France . . . as it spread through America and the world. It was a prayer for the allied invasion forces in France . . . in thanksgiving for the victory . . . in mourning for those who were lost . . . in comfort of those who survived.

This is what he heard Roosevelt say

"My Fellow-Americans:

"Last night when I spoke with you about the fall of Rome I knew at that moment that troops of the United States and our Allies were crossing the Channel in another and greater operation. It has come to pass to success thus far.

"And so in this poignant hour, I ask you to join with me in prayer:

"Almighty God: Our sons, pride of our nation, this day have set upon a mighty endeavor, a struggle to preserve our Republic, our religion and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity.

"Lead them straight and true; give strength to their arms, stoutness to their hearts, steadfastness in their faith.

"They will need Thy blessings. Their road will be long and hard. For the enemy is strong. He may hurl back our forces. Success may not come with rushing speed, but we shall return again and again; and we know that by Thy grace, and by the righteousness of our cause, our sons will triumph.

"They will be sore tried, by night and by day, without rest-until the victory is won. The darkness will be rent by noise and flame. Men's souls will be shaken with the violence of war.

"For these men are lately drawn from the ways of peace. They fight not for the lust of conquest. They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate. They fight to let justice arise, and tolerance and good will among all Thy people. They yearn but for the end of battle, for their return to the haven of home.

"Some will never return. Embrace these, Father, and receive them, Thy heroic servants, into Thy Kingdom.

"And for us at home-fathers, mothers, children, wives, sisters and brothers of brave men overseas, whose thoughts and prayers are ever with them-help us, Almighty God, to rededicate ourselves to renewed faith in Thee in this hour of great sacrifice.

"Many people have urged that I call the nation into a single day of special prayer. But because the road is long and the desire is great, I ask that our people devote themselves in a continuance of prayer. As we rise to each new day, and again when each day is spent, let words of prayer be on our lips, invoking Thy help to our efforts.

"Give us strength, too-strength in our daily tasks, to redouble the contributions we make in the physical and the material support of our armed forces.

"And let our hearts be stout, to wait out the long travail, to bear sorrows that may come, to impart our courage unto our sons wheresover they may be.

"And, O Lord, give us faith. Give us faith in Thee; faith in our sons; faith in each other; faith in our united crusade. Let not the keenness of our spirit ever be dulled. Let not the impacts of temporary events, of temporal matters of but fleeting moments-let not these deter us in our unconquerable purpose.

"With Thy blessing, we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy. Help us to conquer the apostles of greed and radical arrogances. Lead us to the savings of our country, and with our sister nations into a world unity that will spell a sure peace-a peace invulnerable to the schemings of unworthy men. And a peace that will let all men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest toil.

"Thy will be done, Almighty God.

"Amen."

It is hard to recall one's emotions long after the occasion which aroused them has passed. Yet this much Sammy recalls quite clearly. When he heard President Roosevelt conclude with that solemn "Amen" and even while the announcer was following with the set word-pattern, "You have just heard the President of the United States," there was within him a profound struggle of feelings. He knew that great, unbearable blows were to fall soon on homes throughout America. He felt as though he were standing knee-deep in death. Truly, the war was being won. But at what a tragic price! And then he felt a cold, relentless rage.

Where was there gratitude for what these men and their families suffered? Even at this terrible moment when victory walked hand in hand with somber-news-to-come, the Ernie Pyle Bill was far from receiving action. Why? Because of one man's atitude. He resolved that the next morning he would once again see the man who was blocking the bill and learn whether the Invasion had changed his position in any way.

Yet no meeting took place on June 7, 1944. Congressman Andrew May was not available to Congressman Weiss. Nor was he able to obtain any satisfaction for many months thereafter. Ernie Pyle's "dogfaces" who faced great hazards in the artillery and mortar fire of the enemy; who lived constantly in foxholes, sleeping in mud and rain, also waited without the laurel wreath of special recognition which the bill would have given them. This was most certainly "democracy in inaction." Sammy seethed but was powerless to get action.

The wait went on. But time in no way lessened the fervor of Sammy's unrelenting struggle. He chipped away in constant, tedious effort and eventually won a show-down through intervention from the White House. He tells the story flatly, without qualification

"In my appearance before the Committee and my conversations with Congressman Andrew May, Chairman of the Military Affair Committee, he was unalterably opposed to the bill and personally discouraged the War Department.

"Not until my personal conversation with the Secretary to the President of the United States, Marvin McIntyre, who arranged for an interview with Franklin D. Roosevelt, was there the slightest indication that the Ernie Pyle Bill was going to move toward passage in World War II or any other war. President Roosevelt stated to me that he was in favor of the legislation-that it was equitable and meritorious. He called his liaison officer and personal attendant and instructed him to communicate with the War Department then and there.

"It was President Roosevelt's personal interest in the Ernie Pyle Fight Pay Bill that finally forced it out of the Military Affairs Committee and assured its ultimate passage in the House by an overwhelming majority. A little later it passed unanimously in the Senate and then became the law of the land. Naturally, I was pleased and proud. But it was not so much a mere personal satisfaction to see it accomplished. It was a way for all of us to say 'thanks' to the guys Ernie Pyle meant it for. I always felt elated to see the Combat Infantryman Badge worn by the G.I.'s who had been where it was rough. That was the thing Ernie would have been most proud of-seeing that those guys who had it tough were rewarded."

On June 13, 1944, Sammy made a speech in favor of the G. I. Bill of Rights. He summarized the theme of his speech in the first sentence when he declared

"Mr. Speaker, my pledge to G. I. Joe is: History shall not repeat itself. "

That was the haunting fear of his days now. He had been rereading the history of World War I and the events which followed, including the great depression and the days of the bonus march on Washington. Thoughts of Anacostia Flats and the shame of U. S. Army gunfire against starving former U. S. soldiers were a constant goad to his actions. Only those who have served amid the placid slowness of democratic governmental processes can appreciate the frustration felt by this earnest, hasty man. Sammy ended his speech with a plea that "We must not fail our servicemen. They have not failed us."

Yet he had a constant, uneasy doubt whether the nation was planning wisely and sufficiently to avoid that failure. He hoped that other steps as forthright as the G. I. Bill of Rights would be taken in behalf of economic security for all citizens of the nation and the world.

Even before the invasion there had been talk about the coming national election, and much was written about it in the newspapers. The speculation and discussion increased after the invasion. The launching of the great onslaught seemed to mark a dividing line against doubt. Before that day we were still fighting a war in which the blows were telling but hard to evaluate. The invasion made everyone feel that the Allies were clearly headed toward victory in Europe. And victory in Europe would make the outcome in the Pacific inevitably and more quickly ours.

As political speculation grew, during one of the cloakroom sessions Sammy recalled for some of his fellow members of the House that John J. Kane, Chairman of the Board of County Commissioners back in his home County of Allegheny, had been booming the Vice-Presidential candidacy of Senator Harry Truman. It was a one-man boom. Kane had been impressed by the work of the Truman Investigating Committee and had said so everywhere and often. He had even told Truman. The Senator from Missouri visited Pittsburgh to fill a speaking engagement at the request of Pennsylvania's Democratic National Committeeman, David L. Lawrence. After the dinner Kane was sitting with Truman in Pittsburgh's Union Grill when someone brought up the subject of the Kane boom for Truman as Roosevelt's running-mate.

"Why would you wish that on me?" Truman asked, unhappily. He was pleasant but not pleased.

"Because you would bring a lot to the Roosevelt ticket which it needs. I think the people all know and appreciate that the Truman Committee has saved American lives."

Truman said nothing. It was apparent that he was grateful for this praise but that he was not anxious to become Vice-President. A quick conversational shift was made.

Gossip around Washington is abundant, as one may learn by listening to radio commentators. The Democratic Convention of July, 1944, approached amid a welter of rumored news, some accurate and much spurious. One persistent story was that Democratic National Chairman Robert E. Hannegan was promoting Senator Truman for the Vice-Presidential nomination. Truman made it plain -that if Hannegan were doing so, it was entirely his own idea. Truman was for Speaker Sam Rayburn of Texas.

Sammy Weiss had heard from what the press styles "reliable White House sources" that Bob Hannegan had already reported to Roosevelt that support for Henry Wallace was a hopeless cause. Then, just before the convention met, Roosevelt issued a letter which caused a furor. It declared the field for Vice-Presidential candidates to be wide open. Typically enough it added, as a qualification or perhaps as a strategem, that were FDR a delegate to Chicago, he would "vote for Henry Wallace."

To Sammy the handwriting on the wall was plain. He did not know who was going to be Roosevelt's running mate, but he was sure Henry Wallace was not.

On September 29, 1944, Sammy got a shock. It came to him on White House stationery and was a personal note from the President. In itself it was like any other thoughtful letter of appreciation. You can read it today in Sammy's home.

It was not the letter but the handwriting of the signature which shocked Sammy. The wavering lines seemed to chart the physical condition of a man who was far too tired or too ill to bear the killing burden fastened to his back. That he was already launched on a campaign to reassume that burden for four more years was an appalling idea. Deep inside, Sammy was filled with misgivings. And he was not alone. There was, indeed, open talk that President Roosevelt was not well enough to seek re-election. To dispel such ideas Roosevelt took drastic steps, including a five-hour trip through the boroughs of New York in an open car on a cold, rainy day in late October. He spoke that night at the Waldorf. He had opened the campaign an late September with his now famous rough-and-tumble speech to the Teamsters Union in Washington's Statler Hotel. That speech was certainly vigorous. Roosevelt finished the campaign with a characteristically energetic tour of the Hudson Valley. Sammy read or heard all the details of these appearances. But even if Roosevelt had undertaken to swim the icy Hudson, even had he done so successfully, nothing could have changed the import of that wavering signature on the letter of September 28.

Sammy had reason to recall it on the night of April 11, 1945, when Roosevelt was already serving his fourth term in the White House. At the Hotel William Penn in Pittsburgh, the Allegheny County Democratic Committee sponsored a Jefferson Day dinner at which Bob Hannegan spoke. Later, when the speeches and the dinner were over and it was time for the National Chairman to return to Washington, Sammy stood with Hannegan and Dave Lawrence at the County Airport. It was close to two o'clock the morning of April 12, 1945. Hannegan was worried and said so.

"The Boss is not himself at all, Dave," he told Lawrence, in answer to a question. "Frankly, you can expect anything almost any time."

That afternoon in Warm Springs, Georgia, "anything" happened. President Roosevelt died at 3:35 p.m. of a cerebral hemorrhage and shortly thereafter Harry S. Truman took the oath as his successor. Sammy was home with Jean, nursing a pretty severe cold. When the news reached them, Jean cried. Sammy went into the den and got out the letter with the faltering signature. He was not dry-eyed as he read it once more.

The next day, in the statement of Harry Hopkins, who knew Roosevelt perhaps better than any other man alive, Sammy read some of his own feelings. He also recognized in the statement the reason why many people here and abroad feared for the future. Hopkins said

"I know he had on his mind, apart from winning the war, a just peace for all the people of the world. Few people realize how the great masses all over the world felt about him and looked to him for just protection of minority groups and those people who have lived in poverty all their lives. The general impression I've had-and I travelled all over the world with him-is that all people, everywhere, had a tremendous reverence for him-not just because he was President of the United States, but because he was Franklin Delano Roosevelt also."

Some months later, Sammy was to hear this same estimate from people all over Europe.

On April 15, 1945, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was buried in the garden of his family estate at Hyde Park. There were many who felt that hope for world peace and cooperation was buried with him, even after President Truman, in his first Presidential address to Congress, stated that he would continue the policies of President Roosevelt. Sammy knew that the world had suffered a great loss, but he felt that the people were capable of working out their own destiny. He recognized that Congress now had a greater responsiblity than ever. As it developed, President Truman placed this responsibility squarely upon the Congress.

"With confidence, I am depending upon all of you," he told the solemn assembly of Senators and Representatives.

Soon after Roosevelt's death, Sammy was to suffer another loss which he felt personally. The death of Ernie Pyle on the Pacific Island of Iwo Jima affected him deeply.

He paid his tribute from the floor of the House the following day. Together with the sadness which he felt in the passing of this friendly, warm-hearted man, Sammy had a bitter feeling of disappointment. Ernie would not see his proposal for fight pay made into law. Conscious of the unnecessary delay in enactment of Ernie's bill, Sammy found it difficult to speak calmly; yet those who heard remember that he spoke reverently, out of strong emotion.

"Mr. Speaker, Ernie Pyle is dead. This sad news yesterday, following so closely the death of our beloved President and Commander in Chief, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, has shocked Capitol Hill.

"Ernie Pyle was unquestionably the most famous war correspondent of World War II. He enjoyed writing about and living with the infantryman, the slugging foot soldier. Following the infantrymen for almost two years in North Africa, Sicily, and Italy, he suggested that the Congress recognize these boys by enacting a 'fight pay' bill allowing combat soldiers a fifty per cent increase in pay equivalent to the flight pay granted to men in the Air Corps, paratroopers, and the fifty per cent increase allowed servicemen on submarine duty. The hazards of the infantryman are undoubtedly greater.

"In a personal letter to me from England, dated May 21, 1944, Ernie wrote " 'Our official motive was to give recognition to that poor old son of a bitch who lies up there in the mud and cold and rain for weeks at a time, never dry, never warm, eating cold food out of cans, dirty and unshaven and sleepless, and constantly under mortar, artillery, or rifle fire. Usually he is an infantryman, although others do sometimes come into such sustained combat, such as Rangers and paratroopers.'

"Ernie Pyle lived with our doughboys. He knew their temper. He spoke their language and he wrote it more eloquently than any other correspondent in this or any other war. When he could no longer stand the smell of death, Ernie Pyle returned to the States from the European theater for a rest. But he didn't stay long. He didn't exactly want to go to the Pacific theater, but then he knew that neither did G. I. Joe; so he went. There he continued his brilliant writing and praise of the 'slugging foot soldier' in the hell holes of the Pacific.

"Yesterday on Ie Shima, a tiny island off Okinawa, Ernie Pyle was killed in the line of duty. His death is mourned by servicemen especially the foot soldiers, who reverently loved and admired him. Here at home the millions of Americans to whom Ernie Pyle endeared by his frank reporting of the sacrifices and heroism of their gallant fighting sons are saddened by his death.

"As a result of Ernie Pyle's suggestion, I introduced a bill in the Seventy-eighth Congress and re-introduced this same measure in the Seventy-ninth Congress-H.R. 775-to grant fight pay to fighting men.

"Dr. Gallup's nation-wide poll conducted April 20, 1944, reported that seventy per cent of the American people favored combat pay for front-line soldiers.

"As Ernie wrote me

" 'When I was at the front the last time several infantry officers brought up the same suggestion. They say 'combat pay' would mean a lot to the fighting man. It would put him in a proud category and make him feel that somebody appreciates what he endures.'

"The greatest tribute and memorial we could pay to Ernie Pyle would be for the Congress to enact into law the Ernie Pyle Bill 'fight pay for fighting men'-and make this act retroactive to November 7, 1942, the day of the invasion of North Africa. It would reward our gallant and courageous slugging foot soldiers now in the outskirts of Berlin and Tokyo and at the same time it would honor the efforts and sacrifices of the Nation's most famous war correspondent, Ernie Pyle, the G. I's pal."

On April 25, President Truman opened the United Nations Conference of forty-six nations, his voice brought by wire to the delegates assembled. He reminded his listeners that they were to be "the architects of a better world."

With the nation's flag at half-mast in honor of his predecessor, the late President Roosevelt, thirty-three hundred delegates heard Mr. Truman's voice. It held them silent and attentive in the colorful chamber as he stated the reason for their being met together:

"We represent the overwhelming majority of all mankind. We speak for the people who have endured the most savage and devastating war ever inflicted upon innocent men, women, and children. We hold a powerful mandate from our people. They believe we will fulfill this obligation. We must prevent, if human mind, heart and hope can prevent it, the repetition of the disaster from which the entire world will suffer for years to come."

If the grim determination of the delegates was a token of what was to come, then, truly we would grasp the opportunity which President Truman declared to be within the reach of the United Nations. "We still have a choice," he said, "between the continuation of international chaos-or the establishment of a world organization for the enforcement of peace."

Listening, with other members of the House, Sammy hoped from the roots of his being that the shining, hopeful words and brave intentions would not burn out midst human greed and passion and indifference.

Long before the news of V-E Day and the later, soul-satisfying news of victory over Japan which brought the fighting to a close, Sammy had turned his energies to the crises of the future. He felt that peace was to be a greater problem than war and that it would hold many explosive questions. Emotions which had found outlet in the war would seek new channels. Hatreds now directed against the Germans and the Japs would begin, like the lava of an awakening volcano, to trickle and then rush hotly down to engulf the unity which war had taught us. Even before President Roosevelt had taken the oath for his fourth term, Sammy and other members of the House of Representatives were at work on measures to stem the flow of that burning tide. Since 1943 he had been advocating the doctrine of the Three Faiths Pattern for Peace. Now, he and his colleagues felt the time had come for a more widespread understanding of the principles on which this plan was based.

On January 17, 1945, Congressman Weiss spoke in support of a concurrent resolution proposing to make the Three Faiths Pattern for Peace-based on the moral law-a basis for United States foreign policy. Sammy spoke in behalf of the Jewish faith; Congressman Feighan in behalf of the Catholic faith, and Congressman LaFollette was spokesman for members of the Protestant faith. Simply, the resolution called for an end to expedience in United States foreign relations, an end to the principle of self-interest as the highest motive of our foreign policy and a return to moral idealism. It asked for a re-affirmation of the seven points of the tri-faith pattern to give "bewildered, disheartened and confused" Americans new and genuine faith that the ideals for which their sons were fighting would not be compromised. The Congress was urged to adopt "the following principles of a just world order"

"Mr. Speaker, making and maintaining peace following the present war is a problem which men in all fields of human endeavor must help to solve. Practical and realistic planning cannot be based on any one-sided consideration of the problem. Peace cannot be lasting unless built upon a firm foundation supported by all religious faiths, endorsed by all political elements and adopted by all nations. With this objective in view, I, of the Jewish faith-together with my colleagues, Congressman Michael A. Feighan, Democrat, of Ohio, of the Catholic faith, and Congressman Charles M. LaFollette, Republican of Indiana, of the Protestant faith-have this day introduced a concurrent resolution which embodies the principles that emanated from the pronouncements issued by the great church bodies of the Western Hemisphere in their famous 'Declaration on World Peace' as written on October 7, 1943, by one hundred and forty-four American Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish leaders. Among these leaders we have the Right Rev. St. George Tucker, Bishop William Y. Bell, Rev. Ferdinan Q. Blanchard, Bishop G. Bromley Oxnam, and Rev. Daniel Poling, of the Protestant faith; Most Rev. Edward Mooney, Most Rev. Samuel Alphonsus Stritch, Most Rev. Karl J. Alter, and Most Rev. Basil Takach, of the Catholic faith; and Doctor Israel Golstein, Rabbi Stephen S. Wise, Rabbi Solomon B. Freehof, Rabbi Abba Hillel Silver, and Rabbi Ferdinand M. Isserman, of the Jewish faith.

"This great document has become known as the Pattern for Peace because the fruit of righteousness is justice and peace. History has demonstrated that peace without justice does not endure.

"It is encouraging to know that the religious factions of America -Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish-who have the greatest stake in the triumph of righteousness, through their spokesmen, have joined in a statement for peace.

"I quote the Pattern for Peace:

" '1. The organization of a just peace depends upon practical recognition of the fact that not only individuals but nations, states, and international society are subject to the sovereignty of God and to the moral law which comes from God.

" '2. The dignity of the human person as the image of God must be set forth in all its essential implications in an international declaration of rights and be vindicated by the positive action of national governments and international organization. States as well as individuals must repudiate racial, religious, or other discrimination in violation of those rights.

" '3. The rights of all peoples, large and small, subject to the good of the organized world community, must be safeguarded within the framework of collective security. The progress of undeveloped, colonial, or oppressed peoples toward political responsibility must be the object of international concern.

" '4. National governments and international organizations must respect and guarantee the rights of ethnic, religious, and cultural minorities to economic livehood, to equal opportunity for educational and cultural development, and to political equality.

" '5. An enduring peace requires the organization of international institutions which will develop a body of international law; guarantee the faithful fulfillment of international obligations, and revise them when necessary; assure collective security by drastic limitation and continuing control of armaments, compulsory arbitration and adjudication of controversies, and the use when necessary of adequate sanctions to enforce the law.

" '6. International economic collaboration to assist all states to provide an adequate standard of living for their citizens must replace the present economic monopoly and exploitation of natural resources by privileged groups and states.

" '7. Since the harmony and well-being of the world community are intimately bound up with the internal equilibrium and social order of the individual states, steps must be taken to provide for the security of the family, the collaboration of all groups and classes in the interest of the common good, a standard of living adequate for self-development and family life, decent conditions of work, and participation by labor in decisions affecting its welfare.'

"Obviously, this declaration does not aim to be a blue print for a new world. Rather it is a statement of the principles that the signers believe should be applied toward the end of achieving world peace. As a statement of principles, the declaration should be heartening for any of the oppressed people abroad or at home who may have read it. The document gives utterance to prophetic demands that have a cutting edge. To quote John Ruskin, the authors recognize that 'the prosperity of their neighbors is in the end their own also; and that the poverty of their neighbors becomes also in the end their own.' A special merit, then, of this declaration is that it assumes that the achievement of world peace is not only a spiritual problem but also a political and racial and economic problem. It should be noted also that the declaration gives evidence of a new intercreedal cooperation. One can scarcely imagine a joint statement like this being issued even a quarter of a century ago. In short, the declaration is an edifying document.

"Peace predicated on such foundations would mean the cessation of the racial or color injustices by which one-third of the world's population, which happens to be white, denies rights and opportunities to the other two-thirds of the population which happen to be black or brown or yellow. It would mean an end to the exploitation of primitive groups by enlightened peoples. It would mean that nations economically disadvantaged are helped to self-improvement and economic reconstruction, even as we bring such aid to the disadvantaged in our own midst. It would mean the spiritual regeneration of the human family to that concept of just and righteous interrelation in which the aggressors within each nation would desist from squeezing and oppressing their neighbors and fellow citizens for their own personal aggrandizement. All the most perfected, practical machinery in the world for maintaining peace will not avail until within men and nations there is created the spirit of the will to peace.

"Despite the war on the Axis Powers, and despite our verbal contempt for their ideologies, it is difficult to make an essential distinction between the attitude of the average gentile in America toward the Jew or of the average white toward the Negro-or the Japaneseand the racist attitude expressed in the philosophies of national socialism and Japanese shintoism. Other examples could easily be cited to show that the strife that divides the nations also divides us here at home. As Dr. H. P. Van Dusen, of the World Council of Churches, says:

" 'The significant divisions in the making of the peace will not be between victors and vanquished, or even between nations allied in victory. The real division will be within nations, within each nation.'

"A just and lasting peace will come only in the way in which war comes, that is, when it is inevitable. It will come only when there is a strong enough prophetic sentiment to demand it and get it. This hope and possibility, one may say, belongs in the realm of religion rather than practical statesmanship. Perhaps what the world suffers from most is a condition in which the prophetic principles do not animate statesmanship. Statesmanship must be animated and governed by the great principle first enunciated in the Old Testament and then spread the world over through its quotation in the New Testament, 'Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thy heart-but thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.' So long as race riots occur in Detroit and in other cities, so long as the poll tag can continue in the South- preventing even soldiers on the front from voting so long as anti- Semitism continues to increase in America, there is little likelihood of our securing an enduring basis for cooperation with the Orient or even with the countries of Latin America. The brotherhood of man must grow at home before it can be in wider commonalty spread. Our real task lies not between the nations but within each nation.

Yes, within the heart and mind and will of every man.

"The recent statement by the President to Congress on foreign policy was encouraging. Its generalities met with widespread approval both at home and aboard. Certainly no one could disagree with the President in arguing that we must stand together with the United Nations in war and peace; that the period of readjustment. following liberation will be as hard for the freed peoples as it was for us after the Revolutionary War; that differences among the victors are certain to arise; that we must not let these differences divide us, but that international cooperation on which enduring peace must be based is not a one-way street.

"And the nation rejoices in the President's reaffirmation that be stands four-square on the principles of the Atlantic Charter; that it is our purpose to respect the right of all people to choose the form of government under which they are to live and that we intend to use our influence to the end that `no temporary or provisional authorities in the liberated countries block the eventual exercise of the people's right freely to choose the government and institutions under which, as free men, they are to live.'

"There is evident a wide and growing rift in the basic political understanding between the three major allies. Unless that rift is repaired, unless unity of policy and unity of purpose between the United States, Great Britain and the Soviet Union can be restored, not only can no valid international organization be established but no lasting peace settlements can be concluded. An immediate meeting of Roosevelt, Churchill, Stalin, and, yes, De Gaulle, must be reached so that the present threat to Allied unity will be overruled and so that neither foreign imposition nor mob rule, but popular democracy, will become the means by which the United Nations will jointly restore governments to the liberated regions.

"A meeting of all the United Nations should be held immediately thereafter so that the proposals of the Dumbarton Oaks conference may become the basis for a final agreement, and an international organization may be promptly installed and the initial authority to handle all political questions may be delegated to the Security Council. These questions will never be successfully solved if Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin attempt to deal with them exclusively in their rare and sporadic meetings.

"There is still time to turn the present tide if the Government of the United States will only assert the bold, vigorous, and democratic leadership which it has long since been called upon to assume.

"After World War I the United States lost its moral leadership in the world because it would not commit its military forces to the preservation of the international order its President helped establish. It would be an even greater mistake for the United States after this war to commit its military forces to the preservation of an international order in which it had abdicated its moral leadership. With the heavy price America has paid in bloodshed and human life in this war, we cannot abdicate our responsibility to mankind. We must exert all our power and moral leadership; we must invoke divine guidance in preserving world peace. Our failure to act following World War I hastened and brought about World War II. We must not fail again. The American people will not tolerate it.

"Free people everywhere have a right to realize the American dream of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. To realize this objective, the nations of the world must restore human dignity among mankind. There can be no dignity of man without faith in God. And unless all men are imbued with that faith, their hopes of realizing the cherished dream of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness will crumble in hopeless disaster."

Sammy had probed two vital weaknesses in our foreign relations; failure to use the moral law as a guiding principle, and efforts to decide world affairs by meetings of the "Big Three." Sammy considered Roosevelt a great man. He admired him. But he looked at neither Roosevelt nor the world through rose-colored glasses.

On June 3, 1945, Sammy found that he was not without honor in his own country. His efforts were recognized by his Alma Mater for he was chosen to receive the University's award as the "Outstanding Alumnus of 1945." This honor is not conferred annually by Duquesne University, but only in those years when the University deems the accomplishments of a former student sufficiently meritorious.

With Sammy on the platform in Memorial Hall to receive honorary degrees at Duquesne University's sixty-seventh commencement were Leo T. Crowley, former Alien Property Custodian, and Philip Murray, President of the C. I. O. Sammy received the award from the President of the University, Very Reverend Raymond V. Kirk, and was congratulated by the Chancellor of the University, His Excellency, Bishop Hugh C. Boyle of the Catholic Diocese of Pittsburgh.

Those who sat in that auditorium on a memorable Sunday in June -and it is regrettable that all the peoples of the world could not have been there-will always be sure that the unity of this nation will endure.

His mother was there, and of course, Jean and the children. Sammy's mother cried. He knew why even before she told him.

"If only your father could have been here, Sammy," she said. "It's like he always said-'If America could only be all over the world'."

The little Congressman had a lump in his throat.

"They know here at my school that you don't bring about world peace with world conferences," he told Jean. "World peace is a local issue. It starts with brotherhood. And brotherhood, honey, begins with the guy next door." All this, of course, came after he had made his speech to the faculty, friends, and members of the graduating class.

In the course of his short address, he said:

"Duquesne University is my school. Here I learned science and law-and something of football, too. My teachers and my books taught me a great deal, but the most valuable lesson of all came from the spirit that pervades this university and its student body, the spirit of democratic living, of fair play and teamwork that was found, in the classrooms as well as on the ball fields. It was the Duke of Wellington who said that 'The Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton.' The battle for American democracy is won in schools like Duquesne. What better example than here today? Duquesne University-a great American university which is Catholic -honoring an American of the Jewish faith. This is democracy at work. This is the democracy we are today fighting to preserve.

"Millions of the world's finest men have died in this gigantic global war. Millions will suffer because of the basic failure of ruthless tyrants to recognize the worth of each individual. Instead, they and their bestial hordes judge a man on his origin, or religion. These same fanatics adhere to the principle of the State above Almighty God. A nation built upon a foundation of such godless philosophy cannot survive. So we witness the collapse of Nazi Germany. Yet only half the battle is won.

"It is now imperative for us, the living, to dedicate and consecrate our lives-even if it takes years-to the grim task of laying the foundation for a peace that will last for generations to come, in order that we shall redeem the heavy price paid in bloodshed and human life.

"For people throughout the world to live in a world of universal brotherhood, they must adopt the spirit of this commencement-mutual understanding, respect, and faith. Every one of us, Catholic, Protestant, or Jew, believes in the basic religious ideology-that 'the immortal hope and destiny of every human being is the Kingdom of God.' It gives human life its worth.

"Our first obligation is to meet the moral and spiritual conditions that are the essentials of universal peace and brotherhood. As Pope Pius XII so eloquently stated following the termination of the European war, 'Peace cannot flower and prosper except in an atmosphere of secure justice and of perfect fidelity joined with reciprocal trust, mutual understanding, and benevolence in a spirit of universal brotherhood.' But before this is a permanently peaceful world, it must be a just world. Before there is an enduring peace among the peoples of the world, there must be brotherhood among them."

Entirely aside from what others in the world might do to promote human brotherhood, Sammy was a one-man movement in himself. His efforts and accomplishments were recognized that year not only by Duquesne but also by four other groups. Pittsburgh's famous Dapper Dan Club, an organization of men in public life and the sports world, awarded him its medal for 1945 in recognition of what he had done for sports in war-time. The American Legion, the Veterans of Foreign Wars, and the Disabled American Veterans also honored him for his work in behalf of servicemen and veterans.

Whistle tooting does pay off at times, he found, not that he ever had any doubts about it. But he would not have been human if he were not pleased by this public recognition. And Sammy Weiss is intensely human. That is what makes him realize that citizens are people. Something which the people have appreciated, apparently, because they have always responded with substantial majorities for Sammy Weiss every time he has gone to the polls for their support. "I don't have any trouble understanding the average guys," he says, "I'm one of them."

Sammy Weiss is accustomed to being called by his first name. Ever since he was a little shaver who knew everyone in the block, people have found it quite natural to say "Sammy." He loves the informal friendliness of this familiarity. President Roosevelt was merely one of the legions who have called him "Sammy" because that seemed the natural thing to do. The Congressional page boys whom he took to baseball and football games always called him by his first name. As for the kids in Glassport, why ....

Well, for example, there is the time the "State Ticket" was in Glassport for a political rally. In his office Sammy was entertaining Governor George H. Earle, then a candidate for the United States Senate; the gubernatorial candidate Charles Alvin Jones, Mayor Cornelius D. Scully of Pittsburgh, State Democratic Chairman David L. Lawrence, County Commissioner John J. Kane and several others. Suddenly, into the midst of this assembled dignity there barged six or seven urchins whose leader cried, "Kin we see ya, Sammy?"

Although politicians reputedly win their offices through tactics which include handling children with aplomb, Sammy's prominent visitors seemed taken aback by the informality of the entrance. Not so Sammy. He was accustomed to such intrusions. Turning to his guests he announced, "Unless you would like to meet some of my constituents who are too young to vote, I'll ask you to excuse me for a few minutes. I've got to see my gang on an urgent matter."

And it was urgent. The kids needed football uniforms and they had come to the man who they knew would help them.

Much later, after he had been elected a Judge, one of the jurors similarly upset the order of the court room. When Sammy came on the bench, attired in his black judicial. robes, the juror stood, waved, and greeted him, "Hi, Sammy, I'm on the jury."

Sammy and the opposing counsel agreed to let him stay, but, the tipstaffs were deeply shocked. They hadn't seen such an unconventional occurrence since a prosecution witness shot a defendant in '98.

In view of the persistence of such events in Sammy's career, you would have expected him to be fortified with a little more suavity than he exhibited in the Cardinal Room of the Vatican in Rome; although it must be admitted that he ran into a startling experience there. As soon as he appeared for his audience with the Pope, in company with the other Congressmen who were on an official European tour, a young priest walked up to him and said, "Congressman Weiss, we have a cablegram for you." Then, mistaking the look of utter consternation on Sammy's face for one of concern, he added, "I hope it's nothing serious, Sammy."

Sammy had just taken the message and he made no attempt to read it. Naturally, he was unable to say whether the news was serious or not. He was almost beyond speech, for he had heard the priest say, "Sammy." He was known here by his first name! Groping for some explanation, and utterly ignoring the cablegram, he searched the smiling face of the Vatican official for some clue.

"I'm Monsignor Walter Carroll," said the man he had just addressed as "Father."

Recognition dawned.

Sammy remembered. He was talking to a fellow alumnus of Duquesne University, a former Pittsburgher who bad attended the University during the years 1922 to 1925, when Sammy was a campus figure. Now the Monsignor was Secretary to the Pope. When Sammy sought to make amends for calling the Monsignor "Father," the Pope's Secretary laughed and drew him off to one side where two distinguished graduates of Duquesne University had a quiet talk about the old days and things in Pittsburgh and the United States in general.

Up to this point Sammy and ten other Congressmen had toured war-torn Europe on an official inspection trip, including Moscow and Minsk. They had covered a lot of the globe and were thoroughly aware that the airplane had reduced world travel to something comparable to a one-day's horseback ride in George Washington's time. Now, when he told his fellow Congressmen what had just happened, he had to exclaim, "It may be a small world we live in, fellows, but it is a mighty strange and interesting one!"

His Holiness, Pope Pius XII received the members of the Congressional delegation and discussed with them conditions in Europe, the need for human understanding and the important role which the United States was playing in world affairs. The group had their pictures taken with the Holy Father. Sammy would always remember that occasion. He felt deeply sensitive to the earnestness and the sanctity of this man who wanted so much to see the world at peace, to see human brotherhood an accomplished fact. The Holy Father's words impressed Sammy. They also brought back to him a passage which he remembered having read and clipped from a newspaper years before. It applied now more than ever. Sammy quoted it to Congressman Michael Feighan as they drove away from the Vatican

"Let men seek once more the road by which they may journey back to friendly alliances in which the convenience and the profit of each are carefully considered in a just and kindly system; in which the sacrifices of individuals shall not be made an excuse for the acquisition of the more valuable properties of the human family; in which, finally, faith publicly given shall flourish as an example to all men of good will."

"That was said by the Pope who just talked with us, Mike," Sammy told the Ohio Congressman. "I remember it from around Easter, 1939. I memorized it because the words describe the only road to true peace."

The Vatican visit had been such a contrast to the party's official call at the Kremlin in Moscow. Sammy likened the Kremlin visit to the feeling he had when he had visited the death cells in Rockview Penitentiary in his home state. You could smell fear. In the great Gold Room once presided over by the Czars, it was there. A cold, pervading mistrust. At the time he wondered if perhaps he imagined it, having heard too many stories in advance about the men in the Kremlin. But later when he compared notes with some of the others, he found that they too had had a similar feeling. In their talks with the Russians they learned there was a muted terror of the atom bomb. That and mistrust of the intentions of the United States. Since the U. S. was a capitalistic country, the Russians simply could not make themselves believe that Uncle Sam had no ulterior motives. Had there not been a Stalin speech which declared that the next attack on Russia would come from the United States? What more evidence need they have? So Sammy and his fellow Representatives went on a devious, guided tour of the Soviet, seeing what they were shown, liking the people who entertained them, but always impressed by a lack of openness in all that was said and done.

They had been met at the airport by Ambassador Averell Harriman and his daughter, by the official Russian delegation and members of Vaux, a cultural group specializing in public relations efforts. Quarters for the Americans were in the Hotel Savoy where almost all of the employees spoke English learned at the University of Moscow. But although these employees spoke English they spoke it to Americans only in matters of hotel service. Nor was the official Russian reception committee inclined to outdo the hotel people. Sammy decided that if the Russians were trying to outdo anybody, it was the good little children who "never speak unless spoken to." The Russians went even further and replied only when and to the extent they pleased. Soon he and the other Congressmen became accustomed to this behavior. Sometimes they got as much information from silences as they did from direct answers, chiefly because they got so few direct answers. The silences became eloquently informative.

On of the things which Sammy wanted most to see was Lenin in his tomb. That was not easy, even for official visitors.

He was told in heavy accents by Professor Stanislau Marshak, "Mister Congress, this is not time for see Lenin. If people know you see him, ten thousand they want to see him."

That said, Professor Marshak thought he had dismissed the matter. He did not know Sammy. Since you and I do know Sammy, we can easily understand how the subject of visiting Lenin's tomb came up again during those four days in which the Americans toured Moscow. As official guide the Professor seemed in a frenzy to find them new sights. The other ten Congressmen were delighted. Only Sammy failed to be captivated. Finally, after the Congressmen had seen everything permissible in Moscow, Professor Marshak turned to them and said, "So, now, Mister Congresses, there is Moscow."

Sammy looked glum.

Their guide gave a shrug of despair. Like a polar bear he shook himself again. He glared at Sammy.

They saw Lenin's tomb at midnight. Not all of them. Just Sammy and three other Congressmen. The others decided to go to bed. That afternoon they had visited the hospitals and Sammy can assure you that the ventilating system in Moscow hospitals is no ad for air conditioning. So it was quite understandable that he and the others (including those who had gone to bed) looked green around the gills. They were not too buoyant when they finally reached the piece de resistance of their Moscow visit-Lenin's tomb. As they looked down on the features of this man who had been dead since 1922, they were startled at the life-like appearance of the corpse. It was, as the guide proudly pointed out, "as if he just be asleep since tonight." Then turning to Sammy who had been the gadfly of his existence, the good Professor added with a wan smile, "Mister Congress, he looks better today than on the day he die. Better than you do now."

Sammy admitted it. "I'll bet he even feels better than I do now," he threw in for good measure.

Touring Europe was not a pleasure jaunt for these members of Congress, despite what some of the carping press declared. The men who made the trip were selected by the Chairmen of eleven House Committees. Each man had an assignment and was required to report on his special work when he returned. Sammy was to survey overseas postal service, especially among the military. He did so throughout Norway, Sweden, Denmark, the Netherlands, Poland, England, France, Germany, Italy, the Middle East and Russia.

When he had his photograph taken on the balcony of the Reichschancellery where Adolph Hitler used to harangue Berlin crowds, he yielded to an impulse to make a speech about the coming of Hanukkah. This significant address was heard by his companions on the balcony: Victor Wickersham of Oklahoma; Walter B. Huber, Ohio; Walt Horan, Washington; Chester E. Merrow, New Hampshire; Michael A. Feighan, Ohio; George A. Dondero, Michigan and S. J. Carnahan, Missouri. The Pennsylvania Congressman was also heard by a few G. I's and some surprised Berliners. The Berliners had good reason for surprise since, having been accustomed to hearing Der Feuhrer orate on decadent democracy, and knowing all Jewish feasts and customs to have long been verboten, this enthusiastic outburst on the joys of Hanukkah was unexpected, to say the least.

The longer he was away from home the more he missed Jean and the children. As the trip drew to a close, he began to long for the United States so much that he became apprehensive over the possibility that they might not return safely. This he attributes to having seen Europe. To anyone who has seen Europe in the last decade and a half his reaction is thoroughly understandable.

He must have conveyed some of this uneasiness not only to the other Congressmen but also to the crew. After they landed at Washington National Airport, the pilot said

"Mr. Congressman, I guess you thought at times we weren't going to make it!"

Sammy answered, "After we got over U. S. soil I didn't care."

The pilot looked surprised. "How is that?"

Sammy told him, "Just to die in America is better than living any place else. I want to see my family. In fact, I can hardly wait. Yes, I want to live. But dying would have been a hundred times harder if I had known I was not in the United States."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," the pilot told him. "I often felt that way during the war on flying missions."

When he got to the Allegheny County Airport, Jean was waiting with the car. She had brought the children. Sammy has no words to express what he felt about that homecoming.

Sammy was nominated as Democratic candidate for Judge of the Court of Common Pleas in Allegheny County. He was elected to the office in November, 1945, and was sworn in on the first day of January, 1946.

When Sammy resigned his seat in Congress, he walked out of the House Chamber with a great urge to keep looking backward. He knew he was going to miss the exhilaration of watching a free government function. Sitting in the rarified atmosphere of a courtroom was going to be different from being a part of the give-and-take process of democratic government. When newspapermen asked him how he felt, he told them:

"Perhaps being a member of a minority group and a citizen of foreign birth makes me miss Capitol Hill with a special poignancy.

I even miss some of the things I didn't like-for example, the fifty-cent scrambled egg luncheon in the Capitol restaurant that always managed to reach my table just this side of thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit.

"You see, I am a Jew, and I was born in Krotowocz, Poland. But the 300,000 residents of Pennsylvania's Thirty-first Congressional District sent me to Washington three times; the people of the Tenth Legislative District twice elected me to the Pennsylvania General Assembly; and now the voters made me a Judge. And-I know this sounds trite-I can't help remarking that these things do not often happen anywhere except in America. I'm sure they could not have happened in my native Poland."

Naturally some of Sammy's friends of the football arena wanted to know, "What the hell a good quarterback means by getting himself on the bench? "

Sammy fell in with the spirit of this raillery and announced, with mock belligerence, "Some of you old Alumni have been playing your football games and coaching from the grandstands for years. I'm at least closer to things than you are when I'm on the bench-'any bench."

After the swearing-in ceremonies had been accomplished, Judge Samuel A. Weiss got a lot of friendly slaps on the back. Some of the older jurists seemed to wince each time a burly sports fan or husky player saluted the new judge in what the athlete considered the most friendly fashion in the world. But if their dignity suffered, Sammy's did not.

Naturally, the papers wanted to know about his future in athletics. He assured Jack Sell of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette that he did not intend to stop officiating at football games.

"Judge John P. Egan kept right on officiating until he was fifty years old and figured his legs couldn't stand it anymore. I won't be forty-three until next year and the only difference I see between the grid and the court room is that I have to make quicker decisions on the gridiron."

Even if he had wanted to drop out of action it is doubtful if he could have done so, although he had no desire to get permanently on the sports bench as well as the judicial. On Lincoln's Birthday, after he had been a Judge for a little more than a month, he got a phone call from Pro League Commissioner Bert Bell. It was confirmed by a letter of May 9, 1946, from Commissioner Bell:

"As per our telephone conversation and my letter of February 12, pertaining to my understanding with all officials, I am enclosing your contract as a 'Referee' and also 'Assistant to the Commissioner.'

"Will you kindly sign both copies and fill in the date and initial under mine. Please return the one to me marked at the bottom `President's Copy.'

"I am sure as my assistant we can do a lot of things that will help the officiating and the League.

"With warmest personal regards ....

He continued to fill many speaking engagements, sometimes more than one in a single evening. Great audiences thrilled to hear him speak on the brotherhood movement. He could stir men in banquet halls as thoroughly as he could stir them on the gridiron.

He ate dinner at home so infrequently that Jean told him the children considered him "company." Jean, as always, was in favor of the good work he was doing on the bench, in sports, in the B'nai B'rith, and for the common cause of human brotherhood. But she told him with a wry little smile

"Your Honor, I thought I heard someone tell me that Judges led lives of quiet monotony. Who said that?"

Sammy grinned.

"It must have been some dizzy Congressman," he told her.

Jimmy and Joy would not be put off with facetious answers, however. Sammy had been elected President of District 3 of the B'nai B'rith, a district comprising the states of Pennsylvania, West Virginia, New Jersey and Delaware. The new office took him away from home even more than usual.

"Why are you going away so much, Dad?" the children demanded.

According to Sammy's rule book they were entitled to an explanation. So he gave them one.

"It's this way. Everyone in the world has certain people whom he admires and respects above others. Naturally, your mother comes first in all this world and you kids run such a close second it's hard for me to say just where first ends and second begins."

At this point Joy interrupted him.

"But, Daddy, if you love us so much, why do you go away on trips? "

"Yeah," Jimmy chimed in, "that doesn't add up, Dad."

Jean, who had just come in the living room, found him looking pleased and helpless.

"I'm trying to deal with a couple of future lawyers, it seems," he told her. "They're going to be mighty tough on judges."

He turned back to his cross-examiners.

"Now, according to proper courtroom procedure, I'm allowed to state my case before you begin to cross-examine.

They agreed.

"All right. Now, I was simply pointing out to you that we all have persons, in addition to the members of our own families, whom we admire very much. You might call them personal heroes, if you like. "

"Like 'Pie' Traynor and 'Hank' Greenberg!" Jimmy exclaimed, naming his personal nominations for the Hall of Fame. He was oblivious of his breach of courtroom etiquette.

Joy gave him an annoyed look, as if to say that these were not her ideas of immortal beings.

"That's the idea," Sammy continued, "and mine happen to be three men in B'nai B'rith whom I regard as very great men. They have done so much, they make me want to do a great deal. For no matter how many trips I might make away from home-no matter how many speeches I might make-it would be hard for me to equal what they have done."

"Aw, nobody makes better speeches than you, Dad," Jimmy assured him loyally.

"Well, not anybody since President Roosevelt died," Joy added, reasonably.

Jean was taking all this in from behind the camouflage of a book she had started to read. Sammy, she could see, was just about overwhelmed by this display of affection. She intervened for the purpose of restoring the conversation to its original track.

"I think you might allow your father to talk without so many interruptions," she said.

That was Statute Law speaking in the Weiss household. Sammy proceeded.

"Well, to name one of these men for you, there is Henry Monsky, a brilliant lawyer from Omaha, Nebraska, who became our Supreme Lodge President ten years ago. I have always considered him a dynamic leader, a man who has dedicated himself to the service of his fellow man. He sets a good example for others to follow. And he was recognized for it by President Roosevelt. Just a minute."

Sammy got up and disappeared into his den. When he re-entered the living room, he had a newspaper clipping in his hand.

"Here," he resumed, "I'll read you what the President of the United States said about him on October 8, 1943

" 'For a century B'nai B'rith has effectively served the well-being of American Jewry and the nation. Its philanthropic achievements are permanently enshrined within the wails of hospitals, orphanages and homes for the aged which bless humanity in every section of our land. Its great ideals over the century have helped fortify our democracy. Its program of goodwill strives toward harmony among the component elements comprising our American society. The one great American-Jewish statesman who did most to bring these objectives about is Henry Monsky'."

"Gee," said Jimmy, "He must be great to have the President of the United States say that about him." (Editor's note: Mr. Monsky died on May 2, 1947.)

"Shall I go on?"

Two heads nodded quickly.

"Then there is Dr. Abe L. Sachar, a professor, lecturer and author who organized the first Hillel unit. That was at the University of Illinois where he was a college professor. His only purpose was to bring spiritual good into the lives of college students away from home. Today, there are similar Hillel units in one hundred and sixty-four colleges throughout America. And the greatest tribute to Dr. Sachar and to Hillel was accomplished this year when Princeton University asked Dr. Sachar to establish a Hillel unit at Princeton. He is the present Director of this great spiritual agency of B'nai B'rith. Just recently he resigned as Director of the B'nai B'rith youth organization which, under his leadership, reached a high moral and spiritual plane."

Always audience-conscious, Sammy paused to see how his two auditors were responding. He found them attentive and waiting for him to continue. Joy took advantage of the pause to exclaim

"He's a wonderful help to Jewish boys and girls, isn't he, Daddy?"

"But not only to Jewish boys and girls, Joy. Hundreds of Christian students register each year in the courses offered by the Hillel Foundations. In 1942, the great worth of Dr. Sachar was recognized when he was awarded an honorary degree by Illinois Wesleyan University, a Methodist institution. His citation emphasized his influence for good in the religious life of generations of Christian college students.

"And the other great leader in our fold . . . he's the third of the three great leaders who have inspired me most in B'nai B'rith . . . is Maurice Bisgyer. He's our aggressive and able Secretary of the Supreme Lodge, a chap who is admired and respected by Congressmen and Senators who have come in contact with him. Nothing is too much work for him when it's to help other people.

"Now, do you kids understand why your Daddy spends so much time away from you? You see, I'm just trying to do in a small way what they have done in a big way."

He got two emphatic nods from the children. But from behind the book in the chair next the reading lamp came a voice which said, "Yes, and Mother understands perfectly, too."

Not long after that, in the final days of the busy year of 1946, Sammy was given a practical opportunity to put some points of the Tri-Faith Pattern for Peace into action. He was on hand to watch Duquesne University's basketball Dukes play the visiting University of Tennessee. The crowd grew restless. Something was delaying the game. Sammy had a suspicion about the delay and so, as a member of the University's Athletic Council, he went to investigate. With more than 3,000 fans packed into the gymnasium and calling for action, he learned that Tennessee had demanded that Duquesne bench its brilliant Negro player, Charles Cooper. Coach Charles R. "Chick" Davies was fuming. The visiting Coach John W. Mauer of Tennessee was adamant.. Cooper, big center and Navy veteran, could not play against the boys from the Southern school. University officials advised the Coaches to discuss the matter with Judge Weiss.

The Judge made his decision quickly. From his viewpoint and that of Duquesne University, there could be but one. He said, "No Cooper, no game."

Then, taking the gymnasium floor as Acting Chairman of the Duquesne University Athletic Council, Sammy announced that admissions would be refunded to the entire crowd because

"Speaking as a Duquesne Athletic Council official, I insist that no player be barred from this game by reason of race, color or creed. The principal of the entire matter means more to Duquesne University than a mere basketball game."

Thunderous applause greeted the announcement. Here was a crowd which had come to see fast action on the basketball court, and they had not seen it. But they had seen high sportsmanship instead. They had also seen what happens when Sammy blows his whistle.

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