Welcome to the American Story. This is Chris Flannery with the Claremont Institute.

This story is one in a series about an immigrant boy who became my good friend

and holds a special place in the history of the

Claremont Institute.

He was born American but in the wrong place.

I call this one born American.

Back in those days when church going was regular and television was new. The Ed Sullivan show came on religiously every Sunday

evening, and as far as I knew the whole world was watching.

I was more interested in the Range Rider, which came on after the Sullivan show.

There I could see our neighbor, Red Morgan, a great stuntman, falling off horses and brawling with bandits in bar rooms.

It seemed like the best job in the world.

Red lived right across the street from us in the middle of the San Fernando Valley

and he kept a stable of working horses.

My older brother and I used to clean his stables and load hay on his truck for him,

and he would buy his hamburgers and chocolate shakes and fries.

Life was a great adventure.

We roamed the neighborhood on our beat-up Schwinn bicycles

with our Kali Spunky following along,

and every Sunday at our Lady of Peace Church, we would join

Father Conlon, Sister Regina Mary, and the other sisters, and our neighbors and schoolmates

in prayers for the captive nations.

We knew somehow that the captive nations were behind the iron curtain.

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