Come see Bill Bradley!" screamed the young black man standing at the corner of New York City's Bryant Park. Just blocks away, in another life, Bradley regularly packed Madison Square Garden to the rafters. But the evening before Super Tuesday, the crowd just swept past. When Bradley arrived for his last rally, the park lawn was untouched, his crescent of supporters thin enough to fit onto the concrete entry. Thankfully, night had fallen and the gas lamps burned low. One would not want a man so proud to see clearly their pitying smiles.
The next night Bradley lost every primary, and...
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