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Frances PerkinsFrances Perkins
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back to the train. We all had to get back. The railroad had to get things moving, and so forth and so on.

I can't remember what time of day it was that we got there, but I should have said it was about eleven or twelve noon. Jesse had been around in the morning peddling a little whiskey again to those who needed it, but I didn't need it. It seemed to me that it was unseemly. I don't like to see people go to funerals with anything in them.

We got ourselves all dressed and brushed. The men got their best clothes. Their high collars, their black and white neckties, or their black neckties, as the case might be. I remember seeing Steve Early brushing his sleeves off, primping a little, saying to me, “Gee, you have it lots easier. It's not so much trouble for you to get dressed for a funeral, is it?”

I said, “No, that's just the way women dress all the time.”

So we got and into out cars. We may have ridden two to a car to the funeral. I don't remember that. Everybody got into his car in the proper rank and order. The procession started. There was no caisson here. They had a hearse from the local undertaker. That, of course, went first by common custom.





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