It was a warm week in New York State. At the end of it, Nominee Smith motored down Long Island to Hampton Bays, where stands Canoe Place Inn, oldtime roadhouse patronized in summer by Tammany politicians and Southampton society folk, in winter by hungry & thirsty duck-hunters. Surrounded by friends, family and the ears and eyes of the public press, he plumped into the salt water in a white-striped bathing suit with a gold religious medal hung around his neck. He rolled like a porpoise, spouted like a whale, chortled like a boy....
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