Riis had come over with no money, just a gold chain and a pistol for protection. He sold the pistol early on and had a stray dog who had taken to him and who followed him around.

One night at one of the NY police stations where they would let homeless immigrants sleep when it was cold, his chain got snatched and he got in a fight with the person. A policeman kicked him out for causing trouble, and as he was being put out on the front steps the dog, who would wait for him outside, growled at or bit the officer who was tossing him out by his collar.

The cop picked the dog up by the hind legs and bashed it's head against the wall and killed it. Riis never forgot.

One day when he had reached success as a journalist, TR came by his office and left his card, with the words "Let me know if I can ever be of assistance." Riis went to see him and in a discussion about his own experiences as an immigrant the dog story came up.

Roosevelt banged his fist down on the desk and said "By God, I'll close that station this very day." And he did. Riis and Roosevelt became lifelong friends. And he did walk the walk and talk the talk at least as police commissioner.

I share a further bond with him as an African game hunter.