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Frances PerkinsFrances Perkins
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entrance to the White House proper, the residence. That was why nobody was ever allowed in there except Cabinet officers--nobody else was ever allowed to go into that corridor.

Anna was buzzing through the hall, and I didn't think. I didn't register anything strange about her being there-- in fact, there wasn't. I merely said, “Hello, Anna,” cheerfully, and she said, “Hello,” and went on about her business. She didn't enlighten me.

And so I walked into the Cabinet room through the side door, and there in the Cabinet room were Harry Truman and Fred Vinson. Nobody else. They were standing over by one of the windows that leads out to the rose garden, looks out on the rose garden, halfway down on the Cabinet table. I realized afterwards that they were standing just back of the President's chair, but at the time I didn't think anything of it. They were standing over towards the window.

I breezed in. The solemn look on Vinson's face didn't mean anything to me, because he always looks like a hound dog anyhow--has that long drooping expression to his face. Mr. Truman's face was absolutely dead pan. He looked serious, but you couldn't have told any feeling.

I said at once, “Well, this is a queer hour for Cabinet meeting--what's up? What's on?”

And they both turned and looked at me, and they said in





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