I was the same kind of father as I was a harpist - I played by ear.
I was the same kind of father as I was a harpist - I played by ear.
In the house in Beverly Hills where our four children grew up, living conditions were a few thousand times improved over the old tenement on New York's East 93rd Street we Marx Brothers called home.
Harpo, she's a lovely person. She deserves a good husband. Marry her before she finds one.
In 1944 James Arthur and Minnie Susan were added to the Marx household.
Like the East Side tenement, our house was seldom without the sound of music or laughter or questions being asked or stories being told.
Susan, an only child who never had any roots, and I, a lone wolf who got married 20 years to late, were adopted by the kids as much as they were by us.
In the fall of 1943 we brought home our second son, whom we named Alexander.
He looked like something that had gotten loose from Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories