Mr. Kantor. No; I would say this was a consistent feeling.
Mr. Griffin. So that your reluctance to stop and talk with Ruby when you saw him wouldn’t have been any greater at one time than at another?
Mr. Kantor. Oh, no. I saw really a number of close friends on the second floor of the hospital, newspapermen who I had known intimately, been to their house, and they had been to my house quite often. And we still didn’t indulge in anything resembling small talk.
Mr. Griffin. Well, do you have any question in your mind that you did see Ruby out at Parkland Hospital?
Mr. Kantor. If it was a matter of just seeing him, I would have long ago been full of doubt. But I did talk to the man, and he did stop me, and I just can’t have any doubt about that.
Mr. Griffin. Now——
Mr. Kantor. As a matter of fact, I didn’t give it much thought, or any thought, perhaps, again, concrete thought at least, until the following night, Saturday night, when things quieted down enough so that I could take a walk in downtown Dallas, somewhere around 10 o’clock in the evening. And I passed by Ruby’s place, the Carousel, and saw a sign on the door stating that it was closed. And I recalled this weird conversation I had had with him at the hospital.
Mr. Griffin. Now——
Mr. Kantor. Excuse me—because a man named Barney Weinstein, who operates a strip joint a couple of doors away, had his place open.
Mr. Griffin. When did you first think about this again after Saturday?