My dad was a homicide cop in the gay neighborhood in the city when gay neighborhoods were desperate depressing sad places run by the mob. The only gay people he'd met when I came out to him were corpses.

During the Depression my dad made radios to sell to make extra money. Nobody had any money to buy the radios so he would trade them for dogs. He built kennels in the backyard and he cared for the dogs.

My Dad was my biggest supporter. He never put pressure on me.

I mean I look at my dad. He was twenty when he started having a family and he was always the coolest dad. He did everything for his kids and he never made us feel like he was pressured. I know that it must be a great feeling to be a guy like that.

There is nothing that would upset me more than my dad being bribed by the press. It's like 'Just let them run it then. Don't you give them ammunition.'

I didn't try to copy my dad or fit into the pressure or the mold that everybody tried to make me fit into.

There is too much fathering going on just now and there is no doubt about it fathers are depressing.

I pressed my father's hand and told him I would protect his grave with my life. My father smiled and passed away to the spirit land.

It is so often true that whether a person carries with him an atmosphere of gloom and depression or one of confidence and courage depends on his individual outlook.

An able disinterested public-spirited press with trained intelligence to know the right and courage to do it can preserve that public virtue without which popular government is a sham and a mockery.