It was a frigid December night in Chicago. Soft flurries bedded the streets in bright white, although most windows on the street remained unlit where it was a late hour. Leonard Burling; Cutter/Tailor/Seamster, call him what you will, remained comfortably seated on his stool in the back room of his shop at his cutting table. His glasses were positioned on the bridge of his nose as he gazed down in a state of immense focus, piecing a jacket together with thread and needle with practiced precision