I pulled out the bill fold, fetched out a $50 draft, and sure enough there it was in big letters, RUSSELLVILLE BANK, payable to me.
She looked at it, then at me quizzically, and said: "Are you the father of Joan Durham, the Feature Writer who was married yesterday over at St. Bartholomew's. I read her AP features."
"Yes mam," I said proudly, "I'm her Pap."
"Have you any sort of identification card, letter, driver's license, or something to identify you?"
"Yes, mam. I have a bad note on Peter M— back at Russellville for $20 I wish somebody would collect, a membership card in the Putnam County Farm Bureau and a New York Central pass"— cautiously saving the best for the last.
"The pass will be sufficient." She looked at it and then at me and said: "We will cash the draft any time you want it cashed— now, if you want it."
"No," I said, "but if that won't run me, is there any way to cash checks?"
We talked quite a bit—about Russellville (which she never heard of), the wedding, the Hotel, farming, cattle and hogs, etc.
Eventually she said: "We'll cash checks for you up to $1,000, Mr.
Durham."
Well. By that time she was far, far ahead of me, so I tried to catch up. "Miss", I said, "how long have you been Credit Manager here?"