Wendell Willkie stepped out of his office on Rushville's North Harrison Street one day last week, walked into a knot of well-wishers. One woman gushed: "Oh, Mr. Willkie, I've always wanted to shake hands with you." They shook hands.
Said she in a surprised tone of voice: "Why, Wendell! I don't think you recognized me."
"Gosh, Billie," her sheepish husband stammered. "Excuse me, I was thinking."
One political phenomenon that escaped the attention of political observers in Washington, but was beginning to percolate into the newshawks who hung around the lobby of the...
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