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Critics, according to Teddy Roosevelt, who lived his dreams

"It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again because there is no effort without error and shortcomings, who knows the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows in the end the high achievement of triumph and who at worst, if he fails while daring greatly, knows his place shall never be with those timid and cold souls who know neither victory nor defeat."

Theodore Roosevelt

Alfred Sleschinger, the man who gave birth to the Alkit Camera Shops, succeeded in getting himself appointed family photographer for President Roosevelt's cousin, FDR, for many years. At Hyde Park, NY, presidential estate, you see photos that communicate what a good photographer sees, beyond the obvious. Young, tall, skinny, energetically gifted with an honest soul, Alfred had that rarest of accents: the one that physically delights your ears.

By the time FDR became President, Al's fortunes were secured. He and a close friend, Armand Hammer, made several trips per year into the center of then-communist U.S.S.R. in days of great peril to help thousands and thousands of Russia's poor. Many of them gave over to his trust lifetime accumulations of a handful of precious rubles, often kept buried underground for upwards of thirty years. He made countless trips to banks in NY, opening incredible numbers of bank accounts for children and grandchildren whom it was hoped would eventually escape Russia. For eighty years of dictatorship, emigration was difficult or forbidden to most, particularly Jewish people. His charity knew no sociological or ethnical limits. He was one of life's helpers.

His presidential access influenced his income greatly. Although providing his wife and cherished only child, Laurel, with a Sutton Place-dignified life and style, they were never spoiled. His charities and personal philanthropy quietly became legendary. When he spoke, your ears felt as they'd been fed ear candy; a musical, truly unique accent.

In the course of his travels, he did countless quiet favors behind the Iron Curtain for the U.S. State Department. There were one or two other official agencies that benefited from his intimacy with back doors