"I don't go to school."
"Your job then?"
"I'm a magazine writer."
He looked as though he had been had. I tried to hide the notebook I carried under my arm.
I quizzed Blanchard later. "It was 125� crossing the desert," he said. "The torch got so hot it blistered the hands of the runners. We had to snuff it out and hand them a cold torch."
Disillusionment again set in.
"But we always keep the torch moving," he added. "That's the one rule."
The approach of the torch, carried by a De Paul student, interrupted our conversation. Richard L. Hollander, president of the local Jaycees, stepped into the street smiling broadly. Deacon Jones, an Olympic steeplechaser in '56 and '60 who was to get the torch after Hollander, prepared for his ordeal by snuffing out a cigarette on the sidewalk. A newspaper photographer cocked his Speed Graphic. If there had been a crowd they would have hushed.
"Wake up, General Grant," Blanchard yelled to the rear of the bus. Klein only moaned.
The De Paul runner handed the flaming torch to Hollander. "Wait, let me get a picture of that," said the photographer.