CYJ

Sir:

Attached is the piece TIME/LIFE books has
written for a special section in their
immigrant book entitled, "Famous Immigrants".

They need to go to press TODAY (Wed.) and
hope you will approve of the text.

(This is separate from the edited version of
the piece you wrote for their book which also
needs to be approved today.)

Write-up is fine __________

Change as edited ✓__________

tc

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Foreword

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This picture of immigrant steelworkers--confident and self-assured in their bearing--evokes for me memories of perhaps the seminal experience of my life: immigration to the United States. In 1938, at the age of 15, I arrived in New York with my family from a small town in Germany to escape the Nazi threat. Despite the harassing conditions in which we had lived, parting from grandparents, schoolmates, and extended family left us uncertain and insecure.

New York was overwhelming. Even the architecture looked
strange--not merely the novelty of the skyscrapers but also the
flat roofs and the fire escapes, which I thought were some kind of
strange balcony. We lived in northern Manhattan, in the shadow of
the George Washington Bridge. Looking at the bridge towering over
us, my father would say that it epitomized the deepest challenge
for my brother, Walter, and me: We would have adjusted when we no
longer felt intimidated by it.

SEP-28-1999 17:27

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TIME/LIFE Foreword

The picture of immigrant steelworkers--somewhat strangely attired but confident and, on the whole, self-assured in their bearing--evokes memories of what is perhaps the seminal experience of my life: immigration into the United States.

In 1938, at the age of 15, I arrived with my family in New York from a small town in Germany to escape racial and religious persecution. Despite the harassing conditions in which we had been obliged to live, parting from those with whom I had formed my earliest ties--grandparents, schoolmates, extended family--left me, and even more my parents, uncertain and to some extent insecure.

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New York proved an overwhelming experience. Even the architecture looked strange, not merely the novelty of the skyscrapers but also the flat roofs and the then dominant facade of outdoor fire escapes, which I thought were some kind of strange balcony. We lived in Washington Heights in northern Manhattan, two to a room, with my brother Walter and I sleeping on a sofa bed in the living room. Looking at the George Washington Bridge towering over us, my father would say it epitomized our deepest challenge: we would have completed our adjustment when we no longer felt overwhelmed by it.

Within weeks, that transformation began to take shape. In Germany, with the threat of Hitler Youth assaults ever-present, I had automatically crossed the street when I saw a group of youths approaching. In America, it struck me early on that there was no need to do this; I could walk unafraid and with my head held high. Within an amazingly short period

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of time, my family and all the immigrants I knew were seized

by America's special alchemy--which, in effect, meant that we

were suffused with the future rather than shackled by the

past.

I worked during the day in a shaving brush factory and
went to high school and my first two years of college at
night. At first, I spoke no English, but the melting pot made
no concessions to that. My days were spent mostly with
Italian workers and my evenings with German immigrants.
Though life was hard, I can remember no one of our group who
thought of it that way. Everyone I knew was confident that
the future would be better. And that this better future was
within his grasp. And everyone I knew--surely all my fellow
immigrants--made that dream come true, essentially by their
own efforts.

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In 1943, I was drafted into the US Army where I served with the 84th Infantry Division drawn mostly from Illinois and Wisconsin and nicknamed the "Railsplitters" in memory of Abraham Lincoln, America's greatest president. My fellow soldiers introduced me to the open-mindedness and essential kindness of America's heartland. In 1973, I became the first foreign-born secretary of state in America's history.

America has imbued its new arrivals with reasons for a very special optimism: ever conscious of one's roots though no longer confined by them, facing a future conceived not as blind destiny but as a challenge made malleable by initiative and dedication. It is no accident that all the immigrants I know were passionate patriots. We could never forget our transition from a world that knew much order but little justice or freedom into one in which freedom and justice were the top priority.

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Native-born Americans sometimes express their idealism by translating their disappointment with the imperfections of their society into a challenge to its premises. My fellow immigrants and I were immune to this nostalgia. Through the most bitter national controversies, we remembered that, with all its failings, it was America which made possible our freedom and our lives and whose very existence represented the symbolic hope of mankind.

Henry A. Kissinger

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SEP-14-1999 17:03

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CYJ

TIME/LIFE Foreword

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Henry A. Kissinger

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SEP-14-1999 12:35

KAI DC

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TIME/LIFE Forward

The picture of immigrant steelworkers--somewhat strange to them, but confident and quite self-assured in their memories of what it is bearing--evokes (the perhaps) seminal experience of my life: immigration into the United States. At the age of 15, I arrived with my family in New York from a small town in Germany to escape racial and religious persecution. Despite the harassing conditions in which we had been obliged to live, parting from those with whom I had formed my earliest ties--grandparents, schoolmates, extended family--left me, and even more my parents, uncertain and to some extent insecure. And, for the first few weeks, New York proved an overwhelming experience. Even the architecture was strange, not only the

SEP-13-1999 11:19

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TIME/LIFE Forward

The picture of immigrant steelworkers--somewhat strange
in their dress, but confident and quite self-assured in their
bearing--evokes the perhaps seminal experience of my life:
immigration into the United States. At the age of 15, I
arrived with my family in New York from a small town in
Germany to escape racial and religious persecution. Despite
the harassing conditions in which we had been obliged to live,
parting from those with whom I had formed my earliest ties--
grandparents, schoolmates, extended family--left me, and even
more my parents, uncertain and to some extent insecure. And,
for the first few weeks, New York proved an overwhelming
experience. Even the architecture was strange, not only the

SEP-13-1999 11:19

KHI DC

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[Y]

2

novelty of the skyscrapers but also the flat roofs and the
then dominant outside fire escapes, which I thought were a
funny kind of balcony. We lived in Washington Heights, two to
a room, with my brother Walter and I sleeping in the living
room. And my father used to say that he looked at the George
Washington Bridge towering over us as a sort of a challenge of
how much we had to adjust to be able to say we felt
comfortable.

Within weeks, however, a huge transformation took place.
In Germany, with the ever-present threat of Hitler Youth
assaults, I had automatically crossed the street when I saw a
group of youths approaching. In America, it struck me early
on that there was no need [to do this]; I could walk unafraid
and with my head held high. Within an amazingly short period
of time, my family and all the immigrants I knew were seized
by America's special alchemy--which, in effect, meant that we

I worked during the day in a shaving brush factory and went to high school and my first two years of college at night. I spoke no English, but the melting pot made no concessions to that, for which I am now grateful. My days were spent with mostly Italian workers and my evenings with mostly German immigrants. Though life was hard, I can remember no one who thought of it that way. Everyone I met was confident that the future would be better. And that this better future was within his grasp. And everyone I knew--surely all my fellow immigrants--made that dream come true, essentially by his own efforts.

It is that optimism that has given its dynamic character
to American life: conscious of the past though no longer
confined by it, facing a future which is not destiny but

SEP-10-1993 11:15

KHI DC

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[Y]

4

malleable by initiative and dedication. This explains also the passionate patriotism of all the immigrants I know.

Critics ascribe mine to my European roots; in fact, it is based on my American experience. I moved from a world that knew much order but little justice or freedom into one in which the opposite held true. Native-born Americans sometimes used the imperfections of their society as a justification for challenging its premises. Through our most bitter controversies, I and my fellow immigrants would never be able to forget that, with all its failings, it was this society which made possible [our] lives and whose very existence represented mankind's symbolic hope.

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At the age of 15, I arrived with my family in New York from a small town in Germany to escape racial and religious persecution. Despite the harassing conditions in which we [had been] obliged to live, parting from those with whom I had formed my earliest ties--grandparents, school[mates], extended family--left me, and even more my parents, uncertain and to some extent insecure. And, for the first few weeks, New York proved an overwhelming experience. [Even] the architecture was strange, not only [the novelty] of the skyscrapers but [also] the flat roofs and the then dominant [outside] fire escapes, which I thought were a funny kind of balcony. We lived in Washington Heights, two to a room, with my brother [Walter] and I sleeping in the living room. And my father used to say that he looked at the George Washington Bridge towering over us as a sort of a challenge of how far we had to adjust... but I felt uncomfortable to be able to say we belonged.

HEURE DE RECEPTION 11.SEP. 5:00

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Within weeks, [however,] a huge transformation took place. In Germany, [with the ever-present] threat of Hitler Youth assaults, I [had] automatically crossed the street when I saw a gang approaching. In America, it struck me early on that [here] I could walk unafraid and with my head [held high]. Within an amazingly short [period of] time, my family and all the immigrants I knew were seized by America's special alchemy--which, in effect, meant that we were suffused with the future rather than shackled by the past.

I worked during the day in a shaving brush factory and went to high school and my first two years of college at night. I spoke no English, but the melting pot made no concessions to that, for which I am now grateful. My days [were spent] with mostly Italian workers and my evenings with mostly German immigrants. Though life was hard, I can remember no one who thought of it that way. Everyone I met

SEP-10-1999 23:00

KOL DC

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was confident that the future would be better. And that this
better future was within his grasp. And everyone I knew--
surely all my fellow immigrants--made that dream come true,
especially by his own efforts.

It is that optimism--not a delusion, but an impetus--
that has given its dynamic character to American life:
conscious of the past though no longer shackled by it, facing
a future which is not destiny but malleable by initiative and
dedication. This explains also the passionate patriotism of
all the immigrants I know. Critics ascribe [mine] to my
European roots; in fact, it is based on my American
experience. I moved from a world that knew much order but
little justice or freedom into [one] in which the opposite
[held] true. Native-born Americans sometimes used the
imperfections of their society as a justification for
challenging its premises. Through our most bitter

SEP-10-1999 22:15

KH1 DC

212 753 7248 P.01

9/10/99

TIME/LIFE Forward

The picture of immigrant steelworkers--somewhat strange in their dress, but confident and quite self-assured in their bearing--evokes the perhaps seminal experience of my life: immigration into the United States. Immigrants to this country have come from many diverse cultural [backgrounds]. And leaving the country where one was reared is always a wrenching experience. However much one has anticipated his arrival in the New World, its first impact is bewildering. It involves the modification, and often the abandonment, of familiar handholds and the adjustment to a reality whose boisterousness and absence of formality throw one suddenly upon oneself. (?)

SEP-10-1999 22:15

KH1 DC

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At the age of 15, I arrived with my family in New York from a small town in Germany to escape racial and religious persecution. Despite the harassing conditions in which we [had been] obliged to live, parting from those with whom I had formed my earliest ties--grandparents, school[mates], extended family--left me, and even more my parents, uncertain and to some extent insecure. And, for the first few weeks, New York proved an overwhelming experience. [Even] the architecture was strange, not only [the novelty] of the skyscrapers but [also] the flat roofs and the then dominant [outside] fire escapes, which I thought were a funny kind of balcony. We lived in Washington Heights, two to a room, with my brother [Walter] and I sleeping in the living room. And my father used to say that he looked at the George Washington Bridge towering over us as a sort of a challenge of how far we had to go [just] to be able to say we belonged.

SEP-10-1999 22:16

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[M]

3

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controversies, I and my fellow immigrants would never be able
to forget that, with all its failings, it was [this society
which was] the hope of mankind.

TOTAL P.05

Re: Foreword to TIME-Life book on Immigration and its impact on America, forward to their multi-book series on THE AMERICAN CENTURY.

Length: ca. 350 words (about 1½ pages typed, single-spaced)

The first section of the book is a 15-page photo essay of immigrants, the first being a photo of a group of Russian steelworkers in Pennsylvania.

Your foreword will face the Russian steelworkers. TIME requests that you make some reference to the photo (attached) -- what it symbolizes, its emotional impact, etc.

They suggest you mention your own experience growing up as an immigrant: your own feelings and impressions, something personal, perhaps something about how your family adjusted, your neighborhood (the story of how at first you would cross the street when you saw a group of boys approaching would be very appropriate, I think).

Remember, it only needs to be about 350 words.

They also need you to sign on white bond with a black ball-point pen. (Paper and pen are included.)

TIME is really champing at the bit over this. If you can fax it back from Europe it would be great. I know they gave you until September 20, but they say that is their outside limit.

ssm