Jerry’s father, Mitchell, was a tailor who had come from Lithuania, fleeing anti-Semitism. But the umbrella turned inside out, and Jerry hit the ground-hard. Fly, seagull! Let’s see you fly!” He had actually tried to fly once, jumping off the garage, holding an umbrella. He had been bullied for years, kids taunting him with rhymes like “Siegel, Seagull, bird of an eagle. Jerry, a nerd with glasses, had had few friends at Glenville High-ignored not just by the girls but the boys, too. It involved a character like Samson, Hercules, and Moses all rolled into one-a new character that was an amalgamation of everything he had ever written or read. Twisting and turning, Jerry had a new idea for a story in his head. It wasn’t the summer heat that was keeping him awake nor his snoring older brother Leo snoozing noisily beside him. In a small attic bedroom in Cleveland, in the Jewish neighborhood of Glenville, Jerry Siegel tried to sleep.
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