It must have been in the middle or late fifties that a famous preacher was coming to our town, a big circus tent was erected beside the evangelical church to acuminate the throng. This was pre-TV time, and there was no entertainment except walking in the park and feed the birds, this man's appearance was rock-star news. He spoke fiercely in English and a person beside of him translated; it was so odd many people were in ecstasy hollered hallelujah, and prayed with the preacher. He was a gigantic fraud of course, and my mother said so too but she was a communist and disliked America. Today, in a newspaper on the net I read he had died at ninety-nine. Billy Graham was his name.