David McCullough He squeezed through the line and said with a gentle smile, “Excuse me,” sterling blues looking up an inch or so at me. Well-coiffed white hair, thick arched eyebrows, wearing a blue sportscoat, his wife followed him, also well-coiffed and in a simple classic gray dress. The crowd, bending around the corner and down the block had come to see him talk. It was October 2015. He and his wife disappeared into the foyer of the small college town theater. In minutes