Al Pacino...

...Caught in the act

Storytelling ran in the family. In warm weather, Pacino’s grandfather, with whom Pacino had what he calls “one of the great relationships of my life,” would sit with him on the tar roof of their tenement and spin tales about his rough Dickensian youth in turn-of-the-century New York. “He got the shit kicked out of him by cops with helmets and big clubs—‘You little wop! Get over here, you stinking Guinea!’ ” Pacino said. “He’d talk about running away from home, living off the farms, how he would steal milk. He just loved talking to me, like we were on some little rowboat.” The roof, Pacino added, “was our terrace. There was this cacophony of sound—the Poles, the Jews, the Irish, the German, the Spanish. This definitive melting pot is what I came from. In some Eugene O’Neill plays, you hear the same thing.”