Although the backstairs conniving of some of his friends had become embarrassingly public, President Truman's official expression did not change a whit. His look indicated that he didn't smell a thing wrong. He was his usual blithe self, having a good time making proclamations, rewarding deserving Democrats, and entertaining a gardenful of pretty girls.
Early in the week he had flown to Miami to the convention of Veterans of Foreign Wars, to read a speech appealing for support of his foreign military-aid program. It was the kind of routine, uninspired address that Speechwriter Clark Clifford can turn out in his...
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