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A few seats away at Gate 10, a young man was reading a cover story on Balogh. I met Balogh once. He was charismatic. When he approached somebody, he held his right or left arm up in the air. Many felt "put in a vice" by him. He possessed fire, literally. The whites of his eyes, always shaded by a hat, glowed red. And it was said that he could use his armpits as flame throwers, although I have never seen that myself. By the way, his name has nothing to do with "baroque" but is of Hungarian origin. Of his sayings, I remember but one: "The children are our children!" The young man spent half an hour reading about Balogh with an expressionless face. My wife sat next to me, but didn't notice anything.

Story by:

Rupprecht Mayer

submitted at 11:49am

14 February 2012

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