The night was misty. The bright moons of floodlights beat down on the speaker. For ten minutes he stood there, waving his arms, gesturing helplessly to quiet the crowd. He looked a little awed. From the stands the acclamatory roar of 48,000 people swept over him.
To the 48,000, Henry Wallace, standing near second base in New York's Yankee Stadium, was a hero returned. Only a few days before, he had braved eggs, tomatoes and Southern inhospitality (TIME, Sept. 13). He had left the South answering a newsman's question with one last...
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