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“The tenement at 179 [East 93rd Street, NYC] was the first real home I can remember. Until we moved there we had lived like gypsies, never traveling far -- in fact never out of the neighborhood -- but always moving, haunted and pursued by eviction notices, attachments, and glinty-eyed landlord's agents. The Marxes were poor, very poor. We were always hungry. And we were numerous. But thanks to the amazing spirit of my father and my mother, poverty never made any of us depressed or angry. My memory of my earliest years is vague but pleasant, full of the sound of singing and laughter, and full of people I loved.” — Harpo Marx
The tenement at 179 [East 93rd Street, NYC] was the first real home I can remember. Until we moved there we had lived like gypsies, never traveling far -- in fact never out of the neighborhood -- but always moving, haunted and pursued by eviction notices, attachments, and glinty-eyed landlord's agents. The Marxes were poor, very poor. We were always hungry. And we were numerous. But thanks to the amazing spirit of my father and my mother, poverty never made any of us depressed or angry. My memory of my earliest years is vague but pleasant, full of the sound of singing and laughter, and full of people I loved.