DEMOCRATS: The Practiced Hand

The candidate's flushed face wore a beatific smile. He elbowed his way through the pressing crowd in the Congressional Room of Washington's Willard Hotel, stepped onto a platform and picked up a coonskin cap. He put it on, took it off, waved it, put it back, took it off again, tossed it aside. He enthroned himself in a large chair in front of a head photograph of himself that measured five feet from groomed hair to fighting jaw. Then Estes Kefauver, in his familiar, prim drawl, began to read: "I have received...

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