In the capital's hush every sound was audiblethe twitter of birds in new-leafed shade trees; the soft, rhythmic scuffing of massed, marching men in the street; the clattering exhaust of armored scout cars moving past, their machine guns cocked skyward. And the beat of muffled drums. As Franklin Roosevelt's flag-draped coffin passed slowly by on its black caisson, the hoofbeats of the white horses, the grind of iron-rimmed wheels on pavement overrode all other sounds.
Men stood bareheaded. Few people wept, so that the occasional sounds of sobbing seemed shockingly loud. As the coffin...