I only met him a couple times, but his contrariness appealed to me (in addition to the fact that he was an immigration restrictionist!). One sign of that was some concoction he drank — whiskey and milk, if you can believe it. The bartenders didn’t know what he was talking about when he asked for it (I forget the name), so he’d order a shot and a glass of milk and mix them. It turned my stomach, but any guy who’d order something like that had to be okay.