"Ern-esssss-teeeeeen!"
Bill Bradley has lost his wife. He calls her name while charging toward the church across the street from his childhood home in Crystal City, Mo., but Ernestine Schlant has vanished. She is trapped somewhere behind the electronic thicket--a mad bristling of boom mikes and long lenses, tape recorders and power packs, TV cameras shouldered by guys who look like defensive linemen gone to seed, all of them barreling hell-bent for Bradley.
Welcome to the official walking tour of Bradley's old hometown, where this morning he announced (again) what everyone already knew: that he is trying to snatch the Democratic...
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