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Let me mention that one. You know, you'd come home at two o'clock in the morning -- I would come home at two o'clock in the morning -- and I'm a bachelor; I live alone. I lived over in the West Village at 72 Barrow Street. It's very dark there. And, you know, you look behind you. The fact is, when I'd go up to my apartment, and I lived in a building that was filled with DeSapio's supporters -- George Tombini, I think I told you that before, lived right next to me on the same floor. I'd walk into my apartment: the first thing I'd do (it's irrational, but you know, if you're under pressure you sometimes do irrational things) I'd go and open up the closets to make sure there wasn't someone in the closets, someone under the bed. I mean it was just an irrational fear of the possibility of violence.

The only incident of violence that ever occurred was: I'm standing outside late at night about midnight, and I happen to meet someone right in front of my building, and we were talking. And just by chance I moved at that particular moment away from the building -- I was standing right at the building line -- and a flower pot coming from the fourth or the fifth floor fell to my feet. I looked up, nobody's face. It could have been an accident, it could have fallen by itself, but it had to be pushed. I mean it could have been an accident, but it still had to be pushed because it was the summertime. I would have been