(See Cover)
Across the rolling plains of Iowa last week in a Chevrolet station wagon cruised a trim, taut, fast-moving man with a bristling crew cut and a businesslike air. His days were an 18-hour succession of Republican breakfasts, Kiwanis Club luncheons, women's teas, greetings on Main Street, conversations in corn fields and gasoline-station stops. The gas stations were important. There he would shake hands with the man at the pump, greet the mechanic, stride into the diner for a word with the fry cook and a cup of coffee with the customers....
To continue reading:
or
Log-In