I'll never forget the last night of Jesse Jackson's mission to free U.S. Navy flyer Robert Goodman from captivity in Syria. Another reporter and I were in Jackson's hotel suite in Damascus, beating the reverend and one of his buddies at bid whist, a homeboy version of bridge. But when it was Jackson's turn to deal, he rolled his eyes toward heaven, mumbled something under his breath, and dealt himself a "Boston"--meaning that he won all the tricks. He was still gloating over his luck a few minutes later when Syria's Foreign Minister telephoned with word that Goodman would be released.
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