Word: michigan
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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GERALD FORD was nothing more or less than a good-natured lunk, the political equivalent of his friend Joe Garagiola. Lyndon Johnson ventured that Ford played football without a helmet; that jab came to sum up the former Michigan center, who actually played with his helmet, and very well, too--oddly enough, the notoriously clumsy Ford was probably the best athlete of any President of the 20th century. But still a big lunk: that Nixon would make Ford President, after all his yammering about respect for the office, serves as a good index of how far gone that old carpetbagger...
...Chinese (in June 1972)...had invited me and Democratic Majority Leader Hale Boggs to visit in June with our wives and several members of our staffs. As a youngster I used to dig in the sand on the beaches of Lake Michigan. If I dug deep enough, my mother told me, I'd wind up in China. Now I was actually going to make the trip...
...General Motors doesn't want people wandering around on their own in there," says a student guard. He points to the fence beyond which innocent-looking woods and fields stretch away through southern Michigan. The only authorized way in proves to be a shuttle bus. Bearing two Chrysler engineers and an average American car owner, pitifully eager for any word of mileage efficiency to come, it cruises along winding roads with nothing except trees in view. Nothing, that is, until the road opens on a vast stretch of black tarmac, 67 acres of it, set in the hills near...
...changing Boonton, Vt. comes Margo Philipson, a dumpy Michigan housewife with a history of kidney trouble and a well-developed martyr's complex. She is searching for her missing husband, a handsome minister who she secretly believes married her as an act of self-punishment. The Rev. Philipson was supposedly killed five years earlier, when his small plane crashed in the Canadian woods. But he has been spotted near Boonton by a hippie who once lived next door to the Philipsons back in Michigan...
...preserve unity in this welter of people and subplots, Clark resorts to some by now familiar techniques. She cuts rapidly back and forth between characters and blends past, present and future: "Right now she was still in the same ugly, dun-colored frame house on a side street in Michigan, feeling poorly as usual, without a thought of setting out for anywhere, and a certain southbound pair of hikers were still at the Canadian end of the Long Trail, a long way from the Boonton crossing where a very different couple would shortly be murdered. Not that the two leaving...