I'm an Irish Catholic and I have a long iceberg of guilt.

I'm an Irish Catholic and I have a long iceberg of guilt

When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the trees. Maimed, stark and misshapen, but ferociously tenacious.

I am who I am: an Irish Catholic kid, working class from Long Island. And I made it big.

I'm from an Irish Catholic family.

From the year of his birth in 1914 until the outbreak of war in 1941, my father lived in a mostly white, mostly working-class, mostly Irish Catholic neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York.