By Cecil Dawkins, Max Evans
Anyone who nonetheless believes ladies are frail, powerless, and incapable of facing equipment may still learn the tale of Frances Nunnery, a decided, inventive entrepreneur whose occupation and character defy each stereotype approximately ladies. We first meet her as a self-sufficient little woman engaged on a Virginia tobacco farm, an adolescent who, whilst she obtained a "lickin," by no means cried yet "stood there as a question of delight" and took her drugs. At 13 she went to paintings on the Heinz plant in Pittsburgh, and at twenty-one she was once shipped off to Colorado to be married to a guy she did not recognize. In 1921 she escaped to New Mexico in a version T Ford, settling in Albuquerque, the place she labored as a chauffeur, bus motive force, boarding condo keeper, and evening membership singer, between different occupations. She by no means stopped operating, dwelling far and wide New Mexico, ranching, operating as a deputy sheriff, and promoting actual property.
Cecil Dawkins has made Frances Nunnery's taped reminiscences right into a energetic tale that sounds as if Nunnery have been telling stories to an previous good friend at her kitchen desk. there's something generally western in Frances's ingenuity and backbone, yet you do not need to have an interest within the West to get pleasure from her memoir.
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Extra info for A Woman of the Century, Frances Minerva Nunnery (1898-1997): Her Story in Her Own Memorable Voice as Told to Cecil Dawkins
We’d all be nodding our heads and patting our feet in time with the singing. And they told ghost stories. Well of course I listened. Mother always told me children should be seen and not heard, so I grew up listening. I learned a lot that way. And we learn by mistakes. I’ve learned a lot by mistakes I’ve made. Anyway, I set there in the lantern light, tying tobacco leaves into hands and listening to ghost stories, and I got too scared to go home. The house was only maybe two or three hundred yards away from the stripping house, but night after night somebody had to walk me home.
This store building Mother had rented had three or four rooms upstairs, which is where we slept, and a big kitchen in back, which is where we cooked and ate. In the big store room downstairs she had samples of draperies and wall papers and anything else for decorating a house. Mother was a very capable woman. She’d tackle anything. People would come in and order what they wanted, and she would go ahead and get the job done. Of course I was still at H. J. Heinz. I was there for a year or two. But I didn’t like that job.
Well, somehow one day the poor thing led Parker to the water hole in the bushes. The preacher yelled at me for polluting the spring and threw my ﬁsh back in the river. That was okay. I was going to put the old ﬁsh back in the river anyway. That ﬁsh was the only pet I had in Colorado. I’d told Parker I didn’t want any children, partly because of my health, which was why I was out west in the ﬁrst place though I never got any treatment, and partly because when I married this preacher I’d had in mind a missionary career, traveling to distant lands and helping the people.