A highly symbolic confrontation occurred in a New York City courtroom on October 21, 1918. On the witness stand was Jacob Abrams, a thirty-two year old Russian immigrant, an alien, a Jew, a dedicated anarchist. On the bench sat Henry DeLamar Clayton, Jr., a sixty-one year old federal judge, a man who had represented Alabama in Congress for eighteen years, and who was an ardent Wilsonian progressive. Abrams, who came from Uman, a village near Odessa, had landed at Ellis Island in 1908. He worked as a bookbinder, and lived, in 1918, in a teeming, largely Jewish ghetto in East Harlem. Clayton's ancestors had emigrated to the colonies before the American Revolution. A fifth-generation American, he had lived, for most of his life, on his plantation near Eufala, a small town on the west bank of the Chattahoochee River. Now, Clayton was questioning the witness and Abrams was defending his anarchist beliefs. ‘This Government was built on a revolution’, Abrams said, ‘…When our forefathers of the American Revolution—’ That was as far as he got. ‘Your what?’ Judge Clayton interrupted. ‘My forefathers’, Abrams replied. ‘Do you mean to refer to the fathers of this nation as your forefathers?’ Clayton asked. Abrams said that indeed he did, that ‘we are all a big human family’ and ‘those that stand for the people, I call them father'. But the judge had made his point, and the jury had no doubt gotten it.