IADECATU-D Digest Volume 02 : Issue 447
#10 [IADECATU] RIDING ON A CRACK TRAIN ["Nancee Seifert" <iggy29@scican.ne]
Leon Reporter, Leon, Iowa
April l6, l925
LETTER WRITTEN BY KATE STRONG:
Leon, Iowa, April l0, l925
Editor Reporter -- This letter is dedicated to Miss Lydia Keller, of Leon, complying with her request while visiting with Mrs. J.F. Rumley Wednesday of this week, that I write a letter to The Reporter after I returned to Oklahoma. I asked her why not write one before I started home, and as the relentless brush of time has swept aside some of the spider webs of chaos off my mind and body, will detour somewhat on the same lines as all of my other letters to The Reporter. I surmise it taxes some of the patience of the printers to interpret them when so badly written as they are.
The last piece I wrote some one in commenting on it said it does very well for an old lady to write. Humph! Why shouldn't an old lady write? Perhaps some of you remember the suitcase story I wrote. Well, I did not tell you the joke. I did have a small bunch of Four Roses in it. I tell you I was mighty glad they didn't know it. Well, I have sent that suitcase home but the Four Roses have entirely faded out. Last November I concluded to visit friends and relatives in Illinois. I visited a few days in Osceola with my niece, Mrs. Elsie Booth, then at 2:22 p.m. I boarded the Denver Flyer for Galesburg, Illinois. Riding on a crack train is pleasant, swift and most always sure, and I enjoyed the autumnal coloring very much. I arrived in Galesburg on time, friends met me and I enjoyed my visit among the old time friends very much. I attended the P.E.O. Chapter in Knoxville, also riding on the street cars plying between Knoxville and Galesburg, all but two or three times wh!
ere they were repairing the line and we had to change from street car to a motor bus. The man says, "Lady, just step on." I tried to but the lower portion of my dress was two inches too narrow to reach across so I stepped off in the ditch and the other lady went in with me. The next time a fat lady pushed me and I went on in the car head first. After leaving the street car my niece and I were caught between two cars, no one hurt, but a narrow escape for us. No more thrills for that day.
While in Gilson, Illinois, my nephew went to the duck's paradise on the Illinois River near Sycamore swamp, and bagged l50 ducks in one day. "Ding" cartooned the invitation in his own inimitable way.
When I was ready to come back to Osceola my niece asked the agent at Gilson if I could come back on the Denver Flyer No. 9 to Osceola, and he said I could if I was not traveling on a pass. Also asked the agent at Knoxville and he told the same thing. Asked the agent at Galesburg and he said No. 9 did not stop at Osceola unless there were Chicago passengers on who wanted to get off there. Now if I couldn't go on No. 9 at 2:22 p.m. I would have to wait until 2:30 a.m. Well, that was a little too early to suit me in zero weather too, so I told my niece I would try No. 9 anyway. She laughed and said we will just leave the dinner table as it is for you will be back for supper. We went to the depot in plenty of time. I told her to get my ticket to Osceola and she did, but written at the top of it "No good unless Chicago passengers wish to get off there." I took the ticket but told her not to have my suitcase checked. Of course No. 9 came in on schedule time and soon the rush was on. But as I heard the coarse, harsh voice asking where are you going I knew at once If I said Osceola, I wouldn't go on No. 9, and I had made up my mind to ride on that train at all hazards if possible, so I answered at once, Chariton. He fairly pushed me on and my niece laughing and somewhat discomfitted at my success, for she was sure I would go back for supper.
When the conductor looked at my ticket and read the top portion, I saw he was peeved. He says, "this train will not stop at Osceola, for there is not a Chicago passenger on this train to get off there." I says to him, "cannot I get off at Osceola?" He says "No, you cannot; Oh, yes, you can get off there, but it will be in pieces." Well, I told him I did not want to get off that way. He then said I could get off at Albia or some place along the road and went on. I was mad at him and didn't tell him I could get off at Chariton, guess he didn't know I knew the towns in Iowa. He had torn off the top part of my ticket and that made me feel more reconciled to the situation, depending on circumstances. They changed conductors at Burlington, and when the new conductor demanded my ticket I extended it to him a little trembly. He says "there isn't anyone from Chicago that stops at Osceola, and this train doesn't stop there." I says to him with tear drops in my eyes or something akin, "Cannot I get off at Osceola?" He says, "Lady I will see that you get off there." Then I felt happy, or guilty, or both, as I had my suitcase beside me, and a whole seat to myself, and a great big fat old Russian in front of me. Of course I couldn't talk to him, but looking at him made my eyes ache.
When the train stopped at Chariton I never tried to get off, it was too pleasant riding on the Denver Flyer. Just before it arrived at Osceola I thought perhaps they might stop at the water tank, and they did. A very nice looking young man came to me and said "Here are your friends waiting for at the water tank, (the agent at Osceola had told them it would stop) come with me" He grabbed my suitcase, but by the time we reached the door the train moved on. My heart stopped a beat. He says, it will stop again and let you off, and it did. When I saw the old stool I stepped down on I knew they had let others off, they needed my money too.
My friends followed up waving at me with scarfs flying in the wind. I thanked the boy, but didn't have time to tip him, the riddance was enough for him. Quite often it is wise to let on like you do not know beans. I was telling a conductor's wife this story, and she said she was glad of the way I did, for she married one twenty-five years ago and she had never got even with him. Her husband said he didn't think I was quite ready to be laid on the shelf yet awhile. When I get home I can write Oklahoma as seen through a car window, if anyone wants to read about it.
My niece, Merle Alcock, sings in Excelsior Springs, Mo., the last week in April and I hope to be there at that time. Also expect to visit S.J. Strong and from there will go to Nortonville, Kansas, where my daughter, Mrs. Douglass, lives, then to Oklahoma if the sun is shining through clouds of drifting red sand, it is home to me. I hate to leave my friends and relatives in good old Iowa. Too much zero weather to get to visit all. Good luck, good wishes to everyone, and goodbye. I go Easter Sunday, a good day to start.
MRS. KATE STRONG.
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Copied by Nancee(McMurtrey)Seifert
"With permission from the Leon Journal Reporter"
October l5, 2002