Mexico's closemouthed little President Lazaro Cardenas had almost displaced the man who elected him. Boss Plutarco Calles, in the hearts of the Mexican peons by last month. He had given them some land and some justice, had made a personal tour of the back country, patting babies and cattle, drinking many a glass of cow's milk and goat's milk. But the one thing a Mexican President needs to rule his fermenting country is abounding, virile health. Last week, surrounded by enemies, President Cardenas to his disgust felt sick as a dog. Newshawks were...
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