Year VII
Franklin Roosevelt jammed his broad-brimmed soft felt down over his thinning grey hair, hooked the top frog of his officer's boat-cloak, came ashore at Pensacola, Fla.
Behind him, in all probability, was his last real seagoing vacation before he and the U. S. people find out about Term III. Ahead of him were months of arduous labor in the White House: the burden of operating a vast, peaceable democracy in a war-gripped world, the problem of holding together the sagging New Deal. Tanned, re-toughened, in bouncing spirits, his February melancholy and his barren fishing...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
