At 8 o'clock one morning last week, Dwight Eisenhower strode out of his mother-in-law's Denver home and headed for his Cadillac. As they do almost every morning, a group of neighborhood children swarmed around him, whooping and jumping. Ike stopped to exchange good mornings with them, but his eyes kept straying toward the car. "Goodbye," he said finally. "I gotta go fishing."
Trailed by a carload of Secret Service men, the black Cadillac turned westward, picked up Route 40 outside Denver and headed into the Rockies. Twisting and climbing to a top of...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
