Many years ago, when War raged and Herbert Hoover fed the Belgians, Manhattan reporters found on the passenger list of an incoming steamer the name Herbert W. Hoover. They quivered. Here was the great relief-worker returning unexpectedly. He would give them an interview. A man came down the gangplank, a square-jawed man of port. They surrounded him; clamored questions. The man, nonplussed for but a moment, smiled:
"You think I'm Herbert C. Hoover. I'm not. He fills vacuums; I make them. I'm Herbert W. Hoover, of the...
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