It was 2:30 a.m., and New Haven's Hotel Taft was crowded with politicians, all wide awake. Leading Candidate John Davis Lodge, of the Boston Lodges,* paused amid the swirling delegates and nibbled on the nail of his index finger. "This," grinned Lodge, "is like trying to pin down a pup tent in a windstorm." A fife, drum and bugle corps blew for Lodge outside the hotel, and delegates found new lyrics to When Johny Comes Marching
Home thrust into their hands; now the song was called The Logical Man Is Lodge.
Ankle-deep in...
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