WHO
IS JOE CONE?
Joe
Cone is a rollicking rover who comes to your village along about dusk, sneaks
along in the shadow of the trees till he gets to the town hall or the Opry
House, or mebbe the Church. Whichever building it is, he generally enters by
the back door and crawls up the back stairs, at the top of which there is
usually a door opening into the Lecture Room. Joe opens this door about half an
inch to see how many people there are inside the hall. Then he shuts it and
fixes his collar; then he opens it about a foot, comes through, and moves
sheepishly towards the platform. But, say! – when once his heels hit that
platform he ails in something wonderful. He ain’t afraid o’ nobody then. He’s
out to do or die, and not exactly prepared to die, he confines himself strictly
to doing. And what he does is a-plenty.
He
introduces to the audience, one by one, the towns-people of the back-hills burg
of Gungywump, who are known familiarly as “The Waybackers”. And they are a
queer lot, from Cynthy Jones to Sloky the Fiddler. He makes each row of his
audience sit so far forward in their chairs, listening, that they nearly topple
over into the row of seats right in front of them. Sometimes he splits their
faces right across with laughter, and sometimes he makes them go fishing around
in their pockets for their handkerchiefs. He talks in rhyme; he talks in prose;
he talks in regular “Down East”. His sane philosophizing and kindly humor makes
every last living soul in the room feel that life is lovely, and that this old
world of ours is a pretty good place to stay in after all.
When
Joe finishes, he stops, ends, quits, comes to a short halt, vanishes through
the same door, slides down the back stairs, sneaks along in the shadow of the
trees, and takes the night train out of town. Next year he comes back again,
opens u a new bundle of conversation, and makes the people of that village glad
again.
That is who Joe Cone is.
Autobiography* – Early
Joseph Andrews
Cone, or “Joe Cone”, was born Nov. 13, 1869, in Moodus, Midd. Co., Connecticut,
a small village nestling prettily among the hills that stretch away a good five
miles from the banks of the winding Connecticut River. His father, John Hall
Cone, in early life followed the sea, but after being wed to Roxanna Andrews, a
village maiden and sister to the one after whom the poet is named, he settled
down to a quiet mercantile life in Moodus.
Joseph was the
youngest of five boys, namely: Oscar (who died in childhood), Herbert, Lester
and George.
The four attended
the village school and received such education as remote school districts
afforded.
A failure in the
father’s business when Joseph was eleven years of age caused the purchase of a
farm whose fertile banks sloped to the placid waters of the Salmon River, a
branch of the Connecticut of which the poet has sung so affectionately in many
of his productions of prose and poetry.
Upon the farm he
labored summers and attended the Haddam Neck school winters, a distance of two
and a half miles over rough and hilly country.
About this time
occurred the death of his next to the oldest brother, Lester, who was drowned
from a schooner off Montauk Pt., Long Island Sound.
The sad tidings
occasioned the first outburst of poesy in the lad’s nature, for upon the same
night he penciled on his slate which lay on the kitchen table, several lines,
crude in all probabilities but full of love and tenderness for his lost
relative.
His next poem was
written in the little school-house at Haddam Neck. Having a fondness for all
out-door life, and being a devoted amateur artist, it was natural that he
should address his next lines to Nature, the subject he so much loved.
His instruction in
art was very limited indeed, he having had but a few lessons in drawing and a
few general hints on landscape painting. The lessons in drawing were from the
Packer Institute, Brooklyn, and came by mail through the influence of some kind
New York people with whom he became acquainted while working at a summer hotel
on Haddam Neck one summer vacation.
The results, tho’
few were not without their good results however, for many sketches and
paintings were produced in after years.
After trying
various occupations when schooling was over he entered a job printing office
and learned the printer’s trade, but upon the failure of his employer it was
abandoned, and about a year later he entered the employ of the Am. Net &
Twine Co. at East Haddam and learned the trade of machinist.
As is the case of
most young men of his fibre he possessed his (lion’s) share of romance and
sentiment, and from a small boy was hardly ever free froma love affair of some
kind as many of the village maidens could testify.
They were all
harmless and short lived, however, until the spring of 1888, when he became
engaged to Emma Elizabeth Clevenshire, a village girl of English and German
heritage.
Having a genuine
hunger for music he began to study the cornet, and in a short time was
prominently connected with various brass bands and other musical organizations
in Conn. and Mass.
Undoubtedly it was
his cornet which first led him to his future wife, as shortly after their
acquaintance, began that delicate and dangerous undertaking, “teacher and
pupil”, when both are young and romantic.
In a short time
the lessons grew oftener, longer, and more interesting, and Mis Clevenshire
became quite proficient upon the instrument.
The fall of 1888
brought about a great change in the young man’s life, owing to the Co. by whom
he was employed removing their entire business to East Cambridge, Mass. Tho’
loth to leave old friends and haunts, undoubtedly the change brought new ideas
and awakened new emotions in his poetical nature, for it was then he began to
poetize the old scenes he loved so well.
An interesting
sketching incident is told in which the poet and a lady artist of Elizabeth,
N.J. prominently figure.
The artist,
bein(g) an old friend of the poet’s mother, was visiting at Salmon River, and
while strolling over the Haddam Neck Hills one day discovered a picturesque
bowlder from which two tall cedar trees towered. Greatly desiring a sketch of
the same she set out accompanied by the young man. The lady seated herself on
the grass leaning against a low, dilapidated stone wall, protected from the sun
by a large umbrella, while her companion, as she supposed, went further up to
hillside to rest in the shade.
Imagine her
surprise, when on their return to the house, he handed her a sketch of the
bowlder, stone wall, sun-umbrella and all. She was so pleased with the
ludicrous drawing that she begged it away and placed it upon the wall of her
studio in Elizabeth.
It was sometime in
the year of 1890 before he began writing regularly, or to any great extent, and
about March of the same year he sent his first poem to the Conn. Valley
Advertiser, a country weekly published at his native place, Moodus.
To his great
surprise and delight it was published, and from that time he contributed to
many papers throughout Mass. and Conn. among which were the Boston Courier,
Yankee Blade, Cambridge Press, Hartford Post, Conn. Valley Ad. and others.
Knowing that he
was in much need of better knowledge of English Grammar, he secured the
services of Mrs. A. S. Taylor, a well known Cambridge teacher, and took a
course of study through the winter of ’90 and ’91.
On the fifth day
of March, 1890, a quiet wedding took place at East Haddam, Conn., and a few
days later the poet, then aged twenty years and four months, brought to
Cambridge the girl of his choice and began life anew.
Shortly following
his marriage he became acquainted, through correspondence, with James B.
Wiggin, a well known poet of Cambridge, from whom he received much information
and encouragement, and later on many pleasant visits were exchanged.
On the thirteenth
of June, 1892, a little boy came to cheer the home; the happiness was short
lived however, as he lived but three hours. The father took the tiny body to
his native town for burial.
Although his poems
were copied to some extent they failed to attract scarcely more than ordinary
attention till the summer of 1892, when the July number of the Leader, a Boston
journal of music and literature, brought out a lengthy poem entitled, ‘Jim
Coulter’s Violin.”
The same issue of
the paper contained the following editorial:
“We rarely call
special attention to any article in our comumns, as the Leader aims to produce
only what is good, but we owe it to our readers to make this one exception.
They who fail to read Joe Cone’s poem, “Jim Coulter’s Violin,” on page 228 of
the present number of the Leader, will wrong themselves, by losing one of the
best of the many “homespun” poems that we have read for many years.
Will Carlton, who
has contributed liberally to this order of literature, never wrote better; -
and we will be greatly surprised if this one be not copied and generally
appreciated. Our most earnest thanks are given this contributor for his
excellent offering.”
About this time he
received some kindly letters from Sam Walter Foss, the New England poet, who
was then editor of The Yankee Blade, and widely known as “The Yankee Blade
Man.” Mr. Foss praised many of his poems, and advised him to try the New York
funny papers with his humorous matter. The result was that his first
contribution to Puck was accepted. This was Jan. 25, 1893, and July 12, the
same year he received his first check, with trembling fingers and joyous heart.
From that day he
made an earnest launch into humorous writing, and soon found a place in Puck,
Judge, Truth and many other humorous publications.
On the thirteenth
of June, a little boy, Myron Andrews Cone, was born to him, but the joy was of
short duration, for in a few hours the little life was taken away. On the vent
of this birth the father wrote a few lines of dialect verse, which were highly
complimented in a personal letter from Eugene Field, the Chicago poet.
Late in November
of the same year he won a prize offered by the Conn. Valley Advertiser, for the
best poem on The Dude.
At the beginning
of the year 1894, he made a decided step upward in his literary career, The
editor of The Boston Courier sent for him, and thereupon engaged him to write
the Courier’s famous humorous column called “Pencillings,” a column to which
some of the most noted humorists in the country had long been contributors. He
entered with zest upon his new field, and the Courier humor, instead of
declining, became more and more widely copied throughout the country.
In the meantime he
continued to study, and to write short stories and poems for various papers,
and in the fall of ’94, to his great joy, he was accepted as a special student
at Harvard College.
*I’m presuming
this was written by Joe Cone, although it is in the 3rd person. It exists
in typed form.
Such Is
Fame!
When he started writing verses
Called himself
a poet he;
Writing for the village papers
With
amazing frequency.
When he branched a bit and added
To his literary
fame
It was then he signed, resplendent,
“Poet-writer” to his name.
When he really got to writing,
“Judge” and “Puck”
and “Life” his list,
He was known to the profession
Simply as a
humorist.
When he settled on a daily,
And his real
life-work began,
All his classic titles tumbled
Down to just “the
funny man”.
March 13, ‘09
AN APPRECIATION
Fine
Tribute of Newton Newkirk to Joe Cone
_________________
Newton Newkirk writes the following appreciation of Joe Cone for “The Boston
Post”
On Tuesday last I journeyed down to Old Saybrook, Conn., to see my long-time
friend, Joe Cone. You know Joe, too, - ‘most all the folks in New England know
him, and there are a lot of folks all over the country who know him. For years
Joe has been writing bits of cheerful, happy verse for “Puck” and “Judge” and
“Life” and many other magazines. He also wrote two of three books. Then for a
time wrote a column for a Boston paper, which was headed “Jocosities, by Joe
Cone.” Joe just couldn’t help writing, and when he wrote he couldn’t help being
cheerful and optimistic – his lines always breather help and hope and courage.
And that’s why people read what he wrote and clipped his lines to carry around
in their pocketbooks or paste in their scrapbooks.
You see a little bright-eyed messenger boy rang the bell, and when I went to
the door he handed me a yellow envelope. The message said briefly that Joe had
gone on a long journey and that the funeral services would be at 2 p.m. last
Tuesday. I stood there dazed with the message in my hand. Then I read it again.
“Any answer, Mister?” asked the messenger boy. “No, son – no answer,” I told
him, and he went down the street whistling. A robin in an elm across the street
began to sing.
And so I journeyed down to Old Saybrook to see my old friend, Joe. As the train glided along I sat by the window reminiscing. Again, I was trudging with Joe through the quiet aisles of the woods, or lounging with him on some sun-kissed knoll overlooking a placid lake. I remember how when we used to go fishing together he pretended I didn’t do my share of rowing the boat, and how when we were in camp together, doing our own cooking, he wanted to know why I didn’t serve a nutcracker with the biscuits I baked.
I also remember one day after I had taken a “Scrub” at the boat landing, when he was apparently absent from the scene, he told me that he had succeeded in getting a Kodak picture of a loon. Now the loon is a wary bird and I made Joe promise he would send me a print. When I got the picture, behold! – it was of myself in the altogether with a cake of soap in one hand and a sponge in the other. It was while we were on this trip that Joe wrote the following, which has travelled all over the country:
“Foolishest
thing I ever see
At home, or anywhere –
Rooster
standin’ on one leg
When he’s got a pair!”
On the old Boston Post Road in Saybrook is a little white vine-covered cottage,
and here for some years Joe has worked and played and been kind and loved his
neighbor as himself. Joe’s wife and daughter met me at the door. I can remember
how that self-same daughter used to pester me and Joe with her childish chatter
when we wanted to write, but look at the change brief time has wrought! – she
has blossomed into young womanhood. There is a sparkling dew-drop on her left
hand and she told me that her heart is far away in France. Then together we
entered the quiet room where Joe was. The air was laden with the odor of
beautiful flowers. A shaft of sunlight came through a window and rested upon
his smiling face.
“Do you know,” said the wife and mother bravely, “it seems to me as if Joe
hadn’t gone away at all.” “You are right,” I said with an ache in my throat;
‘he has just fallen asleep, that is all – he is very near to us and he will be
with you always.”
The Home Guard company, of which Joe was the bugler, led the way to the church
and then to the cemetery, followed by a large assembly of friends, relatives
and neighbors eager to pay this last loving tribute to one who so well deserved
it.
Au revoir, Joe, old friend – au revoir and good luck on the long journey. If
there is a tear in my eye it is a tear of gratitude for your good humor and
your comradeship. You lived to the end your creed of cheerfulness and the world
is better and brighter because you tarried in it. So, bon voyage, Joe – good
luck and God bless you.
The Funny Man
Behold
him sitting at his desk
Constructing funny jokes
To
send out in the sober world
To tickle sober folks.
He
has a twinkle in his eye,
Gloom beneath his ban;
He
is the champion of mirth
The daily funny man.
No
troubles cloud his placid brow,
He laughs all care away;
The
things that badger other souls
To him are merely play.
To
take his pen and puncture gloom
Becomes his daily plan;
For
tragedy he has no room,
The daily funny man.
His
smile would melt all sorrow down,
His heart would warm the earth;
And
so a halo of good cheer
Hangs round the man of mirth.
But
this is not a picture true,
Do justice no one can;
It
is the idea people have
About the funny man!
April 12, 1913
“There’s a heretic blast been blown i’ the west
That what is not sense must be nonsense.”
Joseph Arrogant Cone
A biographical sketch
by George Eminent Briggs
Josie take this
little song,
It
may be right or wrong,
It’ only you can say
if it be true
We
like to take your hand,
Shake it out to beat
the band
And Josie, here’s my best respects to you.
There’s sure to come
a day
When you’ll draw in all your pay
And be treated as a
Christian ought to do,
But until that day comes round,
Heaven keep you safe and sound,
And Josie, here’s my very best respect to you.
Joe Cone, poet and humorist, Old Saybrook’s favorite son comes of distinguished ancestry. Horace and Livy both mention the Marquis de Cone and both state that he flourished at Nimes, France in the seventeenth century. What he flourished whether a sword, a cigarette, or a spoonful of macaroni does not appear. The family coat-of-arms was as follows: five Wolf River apples in a cross, and three melon rinds and a “busted” lawn mower in a crescent.
The first of this distinguished family to come to America was Daniel Webster
Montcalm Kipling Morgan Bulkeley Cone, who came from Havre to Killingworth
about the year 1700. Mr. Cone soon established himself in the business of
manufacturing automobiles and sundries. In this field, he was very successful
and acquired competence. He reared a large family which consisted of sons and
daughters
Patrick Henry Clay Wanamaker Cone, son of the above, was born in Killingworth
in 1800. He continued the automobile business of his father but in a less
aggressive way. He made fewer autos. And more sundries.
Abraham Lincoln Sharkey Hearst Cone, son of Patrick Henry Clay Wanamaker, was
born at Old Saybrook in 1835. Bred to the law, he achieved success and
distinction in the field of letter. He, too, reared a large family, his seventh
son being Joseph arrogant the subject proper of this sketch.
Joseph Arrogant Cone was born at Cottage Place in 1860. He grew up a happy
country boy amid environment ideal for a future poet. As a boy, he loved to hear
the zephyr sway the young spring leaves and whisper to the hollow reeds its
dreamy music. He also loved to her the sad wave telling its story to the
“pebbles on the beach”. Even the gentle murmurs of the beet, the turnip, and
the cabbage, as they approached maturity in glade and dell were Heavenly music
in his ear.
Mr. Cone’s first poem, “The murmuring wave and it sad kerplunk” was laboriously
written out in 1906. This was followed in October of the same year by the
tender little lyric “Give me three chunks of corn mother”. The next year
appeared his pastoral “There’s a chicken on the ground as the wheel turns
round”. These poems were not accepted by the various periodicals to which they
were offered, but served as a John the Baptist of what was to come.
In 1907, Mr. Cone made a move which proved to be the turning point in his
literary career. He became a member of the “Cracker and Cheese” Club. Here he
came in contact with some of the brightest and most successful literary men of
his day and their influence on his work soon became apparent. His first poem to
be written after he became identified with this club shows the elevation of
thought which he attained through his new associations.
Twinkle, twinkle little star
Riding in a touring car
How I wonder who you are… etc. etc.
This poem made a decided “hit” appeared in the Cottage Place “Clarion”. Mr. Cone soon became a regular contributor to this journal as well as to the Lyme “Courier-Journal”, the Black Hall “Herald” and the Oyster River “Recorder”.
Mr. Cone’s first book of poems, “Forty Liars and other Lies” appeared in 1910,
and was well received by press and public. It should be said, perhaps, that the
personnel of the “Cracker and Cheese” Club has been constantly changing; and
other and abler men have come into membership. As a direct result of this, Mr.
Cone’s next book “Baled Shavings” a collection of poems, sonnets, and sonatas;
exhibits an elegance of diction and depth of feeling not to be found in the
previous volume. “Baled Shavings” appeals alike to young and old, rich and
poor, Republicans and sinners.
In 1914, Mr. Cone published two volumes “Pipe Dreams”, and “Celebrities I have
met”. In the latter, he attempts to do justice to his fellow members of the
“Cracker and Cheese” Club. These books show the impress of some of the younger
and more brilliant members of the Club and consequently became a decided
success from the first. Even Mr. Cone’s critics had nothing to say to the
thrill of delight with which these volumes were received, and he was immediately
lifted to a dizzy height of popularity equaled by nothing since the days of
Scott and Bryon.
Robert Burns said of Highland Mary or some other of his feminine creations
“True she had one little fault. Had a woman ever less?” Does this not apply
equally to a man? Much as we could wish to avoid the subject, we are forced to
admit that Mr. Cone is the victim of an unfortunate habit which has sometimes
retarded his best development as a man and as a poet. He insists on inhaling
and blowing from his mouth and nostrils, dense clouds of smoke from the dried
leaves of a vile weed the natural food of no creature except the loathsome
worm.
Realizing that the conventional thing to do is to ladle in at this point
something about the author’s “perspective”, the deponents depose and say that
Joe takes an optimistic view of life and looks out upon it with a cheerful
smile, He seems to believe that, even in this world, one sooner or later gets
all the good things that are coming to him; and is rewarded according to the
brilliancy of his brilliant and the profundity of his profound.
Mr. Cone lives at Cottage Place a few rods from his birth place. At his board,
are with and zest, wine and wassail. He is a delightful host and regularly
entertains the “Cracker and Cheese” Club on Friday evening of each week. “What
a delicious thing is an oyster.”
A poet to fame not
unknown
Tried to
manicure his lawn to “tone”
But along came a car
With a rumble
and jar
And smashed the lawn
mower-de-Cone.
* * * * * *
Anonymous Biography
Joe Cone (Joseph
Andrews Cone), poet and humorist, was born in East Haddam, Conn., on November
13, 1869, the youngest son of John Hall Cone and Roxanna Andrews Cone. He was a
direct descendant of Daniel Cone, one of the first settlers of Haddam,
Connecticut. In 1662 with twenty seven others, Daniel Cone received from the
Connecticut Colony, land grants on both sides of the Connecticut River.
When he was a small boy
Joe’s family moved to the old Andrews place on Salmon River where he spent an outdoor
life fishing on the River which he came to love. The “Gungywump” mentioned so
often in his poems and stories of later years referred to this favourite spot
of his childhood. His interests ran along many lines especially music and
machinery. A cousin who was a well-known cornetist encouraged his musical
aspirations and at the age of sixteen he was leading a country brass band. He
later played in other bands and orchestras and once led a church choir.
Up to this time his
writings were bits of verse published in the town newspaper. At an early age he
had learned the printing trade and was also well on the way to becoming a
proficient machinist. Before he was twenty the fish-netting factory where he
was employed sent him to Cambridge, Massachusetts. In East Haddam on March 5,
1890 he married Emma E. Clevenshire of that town in a double wedding ceremony.
Their three children were born in Cambridge. They were greatly saddened when
the first two died in infancy.
By the time he was
twenty eight he had studied mechanical drawing and had become foreman or a room
in which special machinery was being built. He later became a teacher of
mechanical drawing and designed new netting machines. During this period he was
writing and contributing to humor magazines of those times such as Life, Puck
and Judge. He had published a book of verse, “Heart and Home Ballads,” and
conducted a column for the Boston Courier and contributed to other papers. Many
of his things were written amid the clang of machinery. During this time he
managed to take English courses at Harvard.
For the dedication of
the bust of Nathan Hale at the little schoolhouse in East Haddam he was asked
to come and read his poem “Nathan Hale.”
Joe Cone moved to
Saybrook about 1908 having purchased an old Cape Cod house on the Boston Post
Road, which he called “The House by the Side of the Road,” in honor of his
friend Sam Walter Foss. “The Waybackers” was written and published after coming
to Saybrook. For several years he was humorist editor at the Boston Herald,
running a daily column consisting of poems and comments and “Uncle Ezra Sez.”
This latter was a favorite of the Keith Circuit Theatre and the saying of the
day appeared on the screen each night. He became a member of the Boston Author’s
Club and a member of the American Press Humorist Association. Among his friends
were the elderly Julia Ward Howe and Hezekiah Butterworth; also Joe Lincoln of
Cape Cod fame, Will Rogers, Edgar A. Guest, Don Marquis, Homer Croy, F. P.
Adams, Irvin Cobb, James Melvin Lee and Newton Newkirk, the latter for many
years with the Boston Post and editor of the “National Sportsman.”
In Saybrook Joe Cone
organized The Musical and Dramatic Club with the purpose of raising money for a
town hall. The objective was eventually reached by giving plays, operettas,
dances, etc., not only in Saybrook, but in neighboring towns. A building site
was purchased in the Center and the town completed the necessary funds for the
present Town Hall.
Besides contributing to
newspapers such as New York Sun, and magazines like Pictorial Review, Youth
Companion, Suburban Life, Christian Endeavor World and Connecticut Magazine, as
well as the current humorous magazines he ran a small job printing business in
his office and library (“The Den”) in back of the house.
During this time he was
in partnership for a number of years with John S. Brooks in National Net and
Twine Company which they organized in East Haddam.
Painting was his
favorite pastime and his landscapes showed more-than-usual ability in that
field. He was particularly fond of painting the marshes and woods and sky
around Saybrook.
During the first World
War as he was beyond military age he sought employment at the Ship and Engine
Company (now called Electric Boat Company) of Groton, to be of some particular
service to his country. He was pleased to have work on submarine engines which
required special skill. He joined the Jibboom Club in New London at that time
and contributed many Home Guard Ballads to the New London Day, which were
widely read. He was chief bugler in the Saybrook Home Guard and was President
of the Men’s Club at the time of his death.
In the midst of all
this activity he was taken suddenly ill and died three days after an operation
on Good Friday, March 29th 1919, at forty eight years of age.
_____________
The Draftsman * Volume III. * January – December 1904.
CURRENT TOPICS.
Mr.
“Joe Cone” a Draftsman and Poet.
Joseph A. Cone,
or “Joe Cone,” as he is best known, the subject of this sketch, was born in Moodus,
Conn. November 13, 1869. Moodus is a lively country town in which are located
14 cotton twine mills of national repute.
Here is
where Mr. Cone made his start in mechanical life. Until 18 years of age he by
turn went to the little village school, worked on his father’s farm and in the
mills. His first real trade was that of printer, then at the age of 20 he
entered the construction department of the American Net and Twine Co., (a
branch of which was located in East Haddam, Conn., near Moodus,) as apprentice.
With this firm he has remained ever since, going to Boston when the plant was
removed in 1890.
Immediately
on his removing to Boston he entered the Cambridge, Y. M. C. A. night schools,
winning three diplomas in three years, after which he became a member of the
American School of Correspondence. Being persistent in his studies, and aiming
only for the highest he has risen to the position of chief draftsman and
designer of the American Net and Twine Co., a corporation employing between 600
and 1,000 persons. In addition to this he is head instructor in Mechanical
Drawing and Machine Design at the Cambridge Institute.
Born
with a love for literature Mr. Cone has gratified his tastes in that direction
to the extent of contributing to the leading journals and magazines of the
country, many of his contributions appearing in the columns of The Draftsman.
He has also published a volume of successful verse, “Heart and Home Ballads,”
is literary editor of “The Suburban,” a well-known Boston weekly, and is a
member of The Harvard Union.
As an
inventor, designer and draftsman, Mr. Cone is well known in the netting
manufacturing business. He resides in Cambridge, Mass.
___________________________
The Illustration in this article is credited to the “Four Track News.”
* * * * * *
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