CHAPTER 8Crash and Rush

My habits of work are not such that carefully analyzed progressive steps from the present to the remote future have much appeal. Most of the tasks which confront me are not susceptible to such analysis… I am content to be on my way. Once over the first rise of ground I can appraise the casualties thus far and set my eye on the next objective. One veers and tacks under this procedure and sometimes it seems that ground is being lost. But on an unexplored terrain I know no other method.1


Monday, October 14, 1929, dawned a beautiful fall morning, with highs expected to reach the mid-60s. New York was in the middle of a fourteen-day dry spell, but no one was complaining, especially not Bob Greenleaf, who ...

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