The broad bosom of the Pacific Ocean enfolded Franklin Roosevelt last weekend. To its gusts he could throw the heavy cares of the Presidency, to its rollers the carking complications of politics. Behind for a while lay the names of Barkley, Thomas, Adams, McCarran, McAdoo. Ahead lay marlin, sailfish, tuna, albacore, and the wild wahoo. His secretaries put away a sheaf of delivered speeches. His fishing aides aboard the cruiser Houston unpacked a trunkful of rods, reels and tackle. Instead of shining paragraphs for the electorate, now there would be shining spoons,...
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