HE UNIT
THE IN
JVERSI
HIGAN.
RIES.N
À MICH








FALSE MEASURE
A NOVEL





false
m
e a su r e
A SATIRICAL NOVEL OF THE LIVES
AND OBJECTIVES OF UPPER MIDDLE-CLASS NEGROES
by
charles a. smyth wick, jr.
W
THE WILLIAM-FREDERICK PRESS
NEW YORK
1954


TO
Rose Harris
Michael and Daryl


THE CHARACTERS AND THE INCIDENTS IN THIS BOOK ARE
ENTIRELY THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR'S IMAGINATION AND
HAVE NO RELATION TO ANY PERSON OR EVENT IN REAL LIFE.


preface
For far too long no novel has been written about the lives
of upper middle-class Negroes. That they even exist is un-
known to most whites. This is partially the fault of upper
middle-class Negroes themselves. They have set themselves
apart and are unwilling to socialize with some respectable
whites who offer them outstretched hands, because they con-
sider these whites below their social level.
The existence of this stratum of the Negro population
is generally known to intellectual whites but not to the public
at large. They have been written about in surveys and trea-
tises but not in a novel which would have less restricted
circulation.
For some years I had been formulating in my mind such
a novel because I felt it was needed. All classes of other seg-
ments of the American population have been fictionalized
scores of times. But alas, the preponderance of stories about
the Negro covers the lowest classes, thereby compounding
a myth that all are such. These depictions have wearied me.
Most publishers seem to think that such stories about Ne-
groes are the only ones that will sell. I disagree.
The people about whom this story is written make up
the group from which Negro leadership is drawn — whether
imposed, elected, or selected. I have felt that this novel
would be more realistic if the names of actual towns and
schools were used instead of fictitious names, as is sometimes
done. Springfield was chosen as the setting for Joan's early
life, and Smith as her college, because the former is a typi-
cal, medium-sized New England city and the latter is a
typical, first-class New England girls' school. None of the
characters mentioned has a counterpart known to me. Any
resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
I wish to thank Marion Morrell, E. Mae McCarroll,
Emma Croxen, and Robert E. Hunter for their indispen-
sable encouragement, constructive criticism, and aid during
the trying period this story was composed.
C.A.S., JR.





.It was eight o'clock in the evening in the middle of the
week, early in September. Before a large mirror in a well-
appointed apartment bedroom at 155th Street and Edge-
combe Avenue, a woman in her early thirties was putting
the finishing touches to her make-up. She was due to leave
for her club meeting in a few minutes. She walked gracefully
and casually away from the mirror; then back to it, slowly
turning and contemplating herself; she was satisfied with
what she observed.
Joan was about five-six, with an aesthetic distribution of
firmly fleshed curves. Hers was an extraordinarily fine
poitrine counterpoised by an harmoniously sculptured
derriire. Her waist was slim and her shapely body was sup-
ported by exquisitely fashioned thighs and legs. This was
a work of art, a body beautiful. Joan's face was oval, its skin
very fair, without a blemish. The cheeks were round and
firm; the mouth was small, full, and provocative. The nose
was sharp and well chiseled. Her eyes were green, shaded
by long lashes. The high forehead was topped by naturally
wavy, auburn-colored hair, parted in the middle and hanging
to her shoulders.
She was wearing a melon-colored, slender skirt of soft
wool with a five-inch split up the front. It struck her just
below the calves. Her blouse was beige lace with ruffles at
the neck, her stockings sheer beige, and the shoes high-heeled
brown suede with open toes and ankle straps, which accentu-
ated her comely legs. She put on her melon-colored, well-
tailored, form-fitting suit coat, then a brown felt, close-fitting
hat with a brown veil; now the brown gloves, then the brown
fur scarf made up of six large, luxurious baum marten skins.
Finally, she picked up the brown suede bag.
Joan studied herself in the mirror. She noted the glint
in her hair and her fair skin. As she ran the palm of her hand


10 FALSE MEASURE
over her trim waist and hip, well pictured by her excellent
tailor, she inadvertently smiled at herself and knew that she
would be taken for a white person any place she went.
After standing before the mirror for a few minutes, she
turned slowly and removed the hat, scarf, gloves, and coat,
dropping them on one of the twin beds. Then she stretched
out on the chaise longue. Her husband was due any minute.
No rush. She didn't want to get to her club meeting too early
anyway. A little late, if anything: her entrance would be
more spectacular.
Joan's musing was interrupted by the click of the front
door. It was her husband, she knew. When the door opened
she heard two voices. Whom was her husband bringing in?
She jumped up and ran to the mirror, rearranged her hair
and retouched her make-up. As she completed a turn before
the mirror, viewing her full figure, her husband appeared at
the bedroom door.
"Hello, my darling," he called cheerily.
Viewing him in the mirror, she responded resonantly,
"Hi, baby, have a nice day?"
He had and wasn't very tired, he replied. He realized she
was about to leave for her meeting, but would she have time
for a cocktail with him and his friend?
Someone she had never met? She turned from the mirror
and faced him, putting on her most pleasing smile. "Of
course I will. Who is he?"
"Oh, someone who came by the office on business an hour
or so before I left. He's supposed to pick up one of your club
members after the meeting tonight."
"Who, pray tell?"
"Prudence Dunlap."
A little surprise in her voice, Joan said, "Why, she's sup-
posed to be my best friend but she hasn't told me she had
a new man in town! I phoned her yesterday. She didn't say
a word."
"That's something you'll have to take up with Prudence."
Clifford Farnsworth was an indulgent spouse. He gave
Joan everything she asked for and some things she didn't.
An insurance company executive, his income was above the
middle-income group. He could be, and was, more than


FALSE MEASURE 11
simply a good provider. Clifford was of average height and
was conservatively well dressed. His color was light yellow.
He was in his late forties and his closely cropped hair was
receding and graying at the temples. Early in their marriage
eight years before, Joan had suggested resuming her teach-
ing, to occupy her daytime hours, but Clifford had forbidden
it. In his soft-spoken, refined voice he had told her that he
wished his wife to remain at home. Because of this attitude
on her husband's part, Joan devoted her excess energies to
social activities, with both a small and a capital S. There
were her strictly Social activities and her social philanthropic
activities. The latter took more of her time than her money.
Most of her money, provided liberally by her husband, went
on her back.
"Joan," Clifford said, "let's go in and meet our guest."
She took a last look in the mirror. Then, kissing him on
the cheek, she took his hand as they went to meet his friend.
When they reached the door of the sitting room, the guest
arose. Joan thought without manifesting it in her features,
"Gee, he's handsome." He was six feet tall and slender. The
ready-made suit fitted him well. His skin was fair, his hair
black. He was almost white. "Why hasn't Prudence told me
about this man!" Joan smiled to herself.
"Dick Robinson, my wife Joan." Then the proffered,
well-manicured, soft white hand and the "Pleased to meet
you" — with exaggerated effusion, at the same time the
pressing of her husband's fingers.
The guest was fascinated by Joan. After they exchanged
commonplace amenities and then had settled onto chairs,
Joan realized he was staring at her. Not that she objected,
but she was afraid her husband might notice. To break his
stare, she suggested helping the maid with the drinks.
"Martinis?"
The men agreed. Dick's eyes followed her as she moved
toward the kitchen.
In minutes Joan returned, preceded by the maid with
the tray of drinks. The maid, Emma, was skinny and un-
attractive, but she was efficient and had been long in their
employ. After serving the drinks she said she would be avail-
able for about another forty-five minutes if another round


12 FALSE MEASURE
of drinks should be wanted, and then she returned to the
kitchen.
"I understand you know my friend Prudence, Mr. Robin-
son," Joan commented as she offered him a glass.
"Oh, yes, we were schoolmates some years ago at Fiske
and I've seen her off and on down through the years. I
reached her by phone today through your husband and ar-
ranged to meet her after her meeting tonight. I've heard
she's divorced now. Is that true?"
"Yes," Clifford smiled. "About a year ago, and the New
York Star had a field day airing her and her husband's per-
sonal affairs while the court proceedings were going on.
However, Prudence, who brought the action, won and got
substantial alimony."
"What does her quondam partner do for a living?" asked
the inquisitive guest, thinking of the alimony.
Joan said, "He's one of Harlem's most successful phy-
sicians. That is, financially. I don't think he knows too much
medicine." Then, beaming at her husband, "I'd never call
him if my Clifford got sick."
"What does Prudence do? I reached her at a government
office."
"She's a supervisor at one of the district offices of the
State Employment Service," Joan answered.
"Then she should do all right with her alimony and her
salary."
Clifford laughed. "Does that interest you?"
"Oh, no," the guest explained. "I just wondered whether
or not she had sufficient income to maintain her at her ac-
customed standards."
"Tell me," Joan broke in, "what brings you to New York
and how long do you intend to stay?"
Robinson replied that he was with the Federal Security
Administration and had been working out of the Albany
office covering rural communities. At his request he had been
transferred to New York City. He had been with the Social
Security Administration since his release from the Army in
late 1945. No, he wasn't married and had never been mar-
ried. Joan thought, "I'll ask Prudence why such a handsome
and eligible man has never married." He was living at the


FALSE MEASURE IS
Theresa Hotel but he was looking for an apartment because
it was too expensive. But with the housing shortage, particu-
larly for middle-income Negroes, he expected he might have
to remain at the Theresa for some time.
Joan interrupted to say that she had to leave. It was half-
past nine and the meeting was to start at eight. They had
three more rounds of martinis and Joan was beginning to
feel hers. She wanted to get out in the air. She gave Emma
instructions to set out dinner for the two men.
Dick Robinson asked to be shown through the sumptu-
ous apartment before she left. "Why, of course," Joan said.
She and Clifford led their guest through the six-and-a-half
rooms. The entire apartment was carpeted wall to wall. The
furniture was modernistic, the living room with sectional
pieces, three armchairs, and a huge, circular glass coffee table
— plus the correct floor lamps and properly blended pictures
on the walls. There were smaller pieces and the oversized
television combination. On a table in front of the picture
window there was a vase of chrysanthemums. Joan loved
flowers and they were changed often. There were wall-cover-
ing drapes. A library adjoined the living room. There were
full bookcases from the floor almost to the ceiling. It con-
tained the other usual accouterments — a large library
table, deep restful chairs, reading lamps, heavy framed pic-
tures on the wall, and some hidden card tables. Joan had
more use for the room for her card tables than she did for
the books. When Clifford had the time, he pulled a book
from the shelves.
There was a master bedroom with twin beds covered in
glazed chintz. A wall-covering mirror, floor-to-ceiling and
wall-to-wall drapes, chests of drawers, dressing table, and
bulging clothes closets redolent of jasmine. And the faint
aroma of Joan's perfume throughout.
The guest room had a three-quarter bed in dark mahog-
any with a rose satin bedspread and matching satin draperies,
a chest of drawers, and two matching chairs.
The maid's room was furnished in maple. The drapes
and bedspread were chenille. In the kitchen there was a
built-in breakfast nook, and the dining foyer just off the
kitchen was furnished in blonde mahogany.


14 FALSE MEASURE
Following the tour through the apartment, Joan insisted
she must leave at once. Her husband helped her into her
suit coat. He stood off and looked at her after she carefully
placed her hat, fur scarf, and gloves. He remarked that the
large topaz-and-gold earrings (with matching bracelet), pur-
chased by him from Cartier's, went well with the outfit.
Robinson agreed enthusiastically. He thought Joan the most
beautiful woman he had ever met.
Joan asked for the car keys, planted a quick kiss on
Clifford's cheek, and bade them goodbye and a pleasant
dinner. Clifford was to come to the meeting to pick her up
in the guest's car.
The meeting was at Beatrice Lynch's, on 143rd and Con-
vent. "Well, everyone must have arrived," Joan thought as
she pulled up in her Cadillac sedan in front of Beatrice's
house. She had to drive a block away to find parking space.
Searching for a space, she picked out the cars of other mem-
bers: Prudence's Chrysler, Harriet's Packard, Veronica's
Roadmaster, Helen's Kaiser. A last check of her make-up be-
fore locking the car door.
Beatrice was Joan's chief social rival. She was the wife
of a judge and their town house was as elaborate as Joan's
apartment. Beatrice was of average height. Her hair was
blonde, worn in a short feather-cut. Blue-eyed and sharp-
featured, she was shapely and wore her clothes excellently.
Hers was a cold refinement. Her smile never seemed spon-
taneous; it always appeared to be forced. She was a Vassar
graduate, and now had a nine-year-old son, who attended an
exclusive progressive private school on Fifth Avenue in the
Sixties. He was the only Negro child at the school.
Joan was vivacious and outgoing with people she knew,
provided they were at her social level, whereas Beatrice, try
as she would, could not affect the sparkle and ebullience
Joan always possessed. There was no fondness between these
two women. Joan disliked Beatrice and Beatrice disliked
Joan, but they respected each other. Each was jealous of the
other and they tried to outdo each other in clothes, furnish-
ing their homes, their cars, and other manifestations of af-


FALSE MEASURE 15
fluence. However, whenever they met, one would think they
were the best of long-lost friends, the way they kissed and
gushed over each other — and complimented each other on
how beautiful and attractive each was.
As Joan ascended the stone steps to Judge Lynch's house
and rang the bell, she said to herself, "I know I've out-
dressed the other women here but I wonder what Beatrice
is wearing."
Beatrice, positive it must be Joan by this time, answered
the bell herself. Seeing it was Joan through the glass door,
she flung the door open and stretched out her arms. The two
embraced and exchanged their usual insincere, flattering re-
marks. They went from the vestibule into the thickly car-
peted hallway with their arms about each other's waists,
talking and laughing in high-pitched voices.
"I haven't seen you since June," Beatrice said. "I heard
you spent most of the summer at Martha's Vineyard."
"Yes," Joan replied. "I sent you a card from the Vine-
yard when I finally settled there after my Canadian tour. I
suppose by that time you and your young son were ensconced
at your Maine summer retreat."
"Yes, and the judge flew up every weekend. It was lone-
some alone in the house during the week. The place is so
rambling and isolated. I was afraid at night. I had only one
servant, and a female at that." She smiled thoughtfully.
"Joan, dear, you must come up and spend some time there
with me next summer."
Joan had been told of Beatrice's elegant summer place
and she knew Beatrice just wanted to get her up there so
she could show it off and try to make her envious. All right,
she'd go. But first she'd do over her house at the Vineyard
and then invite Beatrice there for a week after her visit to
Maine.
"Why, Bea, darling, I'd just love that," Joan bubbled.
"You're such an excellent hostess."
"Joan, you're simply ravishing in that new fall suitl
Where from?"
"Tailored Woman," Joan matter-of-factly replied. "And
your dress, Bea! Where did you find it?"


16 FALSE MEASURE
"Bergdorf Goodman," Beatrice replied equally casually.
Beatrice cut a regal figure in her royal blue, light wool
dress with a high neckline and her navy suede shoes. The
gold choker drew attention to the delicate neck, and there
were matching gold earrings.
The meeting was being held on the first floor in two
spacious, attractively furnished sitting rooms separated by
sliding doors which had been opened to form one huge room
about which the twenty-one club members were scattered
and engaged in small chatter. Beatrice led Joan to the door
leading off from the hall and when they stepped into the
room, with her arm still round Joan's waist, she called out
in her high, cultured tones, "Girls, girls, here is our beauti-
ful Joan!"
All eyes turned toward Joan. She smiled prettily, thor-
oughly enjoying the attention. Some of the girls ran up to
her and she hugged them and kissed their cheeks. She moved
about the room, shaking hands and embracing others in
turn. There were remarks such as Joan, you simply look
gorgeous . . . Joan, you are even more pretty than you were
in June, if such were possible . . . You're just a beautiful
hussy in your new fall outfit, my dear . . . Joan, I just love
you, you're so pretty and wear your clothes so well . . . Now
that you're back, everybody'll have to chain their man . . .
and cheerily, / hate you because I can't possibly look as good
as you do!
The comments blended into Joan's favorite harmony. J
love you for that. . . You flatter me, sweetheart . . . Oh, stop
. . . Thank you, darling . . . As pretty as you are, you say
that to me!
The fur piece and hat taken by Beatrice, Joan seated
herself beside Prudence, her best friend. Of the twenty-odd
women in the room there was only one who would not have
been taken for white. That one, Helen Terrence, possessed
certain qualities that endeared her to the others neverthe-
less. Membership in the group required leisure-class man-
ners, plus university training, plus what they considered suc-
cess, either one's own or one's husband's, and, of course,
good looks and smartness in the most modern sense. Helen


FALSE MEASURE 17
was far from black, but her hue was the same as a quart of
milk with a teaspoon of chocolate mixed in — making her
color an extremely light brown, not as fair as the other mem-
bers'. Her nose was small and round, the eyes large and dark,
the hair thick and black with deep waves, worn parted in
the middle and pulled back to the base of her head. High
cheekbones and a small mouth with thin lips gave her the
appearance of an American Indian, but with trappings the
traditional concept of an American Indian wouldn't allow.
Helen was graduated from Barnard and had taken a Master's
degree at Columbia. She was a high school teacher. Most of
the club members were either married or divorced, but
Helen had never married, not because she didn't have ample
suitors, but because of fanatic selectivity. Her husband
would have to have the correct background, the right train-
ing, and a good income, in addition to a certain personality.
She hadn't run across an acceptable male yet who wasn't al-
ready married to someone else. Considering Helen's comely
face, in addition to the well-formed body that could take the
latest styles commendably, and her academic achievements,
she was loved by one and all even though she wasn't quite as
fair as they. Helen knew she cut a pretty figure, and didn't
give a damn about the others having lighter skins. Further-
more, when it came to appearance and background she could
match any one of them and outmatch some, so they weren't
doing her any favors having her as a member of their club.
This was strictly a Social club — with a capital S. The
meaning of the word "social," as far as they were concerned,
gathered together in a group, was what was planned and
done in polite and fashionable society for the furtherance
of their own enjoyment and pleasure and that of their friends
— persons not of their social class and caste to be excluded.
They had named their club "The Concordians."
With the exception of one or two, none was interested
in the type of activities designed to sincerely alleviate the
conditions of the poor and unfortunate. Regarding Negroes
not in their class, and most were not, they were as disdainful
of them as whites. They would appear at charitable affairs
and benefits that had high-sounding names and objectives,
but only because lending their names and presence gave


18 FALSE MEASURE
them one more opportunity to flourish themselves and get
publicity, usually in the national Negro weekly newspapers
and monthly Negro magazines.
In this group, Joan and Beatrice each considered herself
the Social leader, the arbiter, the standard-setter. Hence,
their rivalry and under-the-surface reciprocal dislike and
envy; yet patently, they were the best of friends. Joan had
been president of the club for almost two years. At the last
meeting before summer, Beatrice had been elected unani-
mously. The term of office was indefinite because they
didn't adhere too rigidly to their by-laws, with respect to
technical procedure. However, regarding acceptance of new
members and admittance of guests at their parties and
dances, they zealously complied with unwritten by-laws
known to all. There wasn't a striving Negro woman in New
York, possessing the required unwritten requisites, who
didn't want to get into this club. So much so that, if she pos-
sessed the light color, good looks, education, and personal
achievement, either through herself or her husband, she
would fete members of the club, hoping her name would be
brought up for admission. Those in the club had arrived
socially. They had reached a social pinnacle up to which
other women strived. They were New York's Social dictators.
They knew it and acted it.
Prudence and Joan had just launched into a discussion of
Dick Robinson, when Beatrice interrupted the general buzz-
ing to call the meeting to order. Everyone quieted down.
Beatrice began, "I think the first order of business should
be the minutes of our last meeting in early June." She
moved to the dividing point between the two sitting rooms,
papers in hand, so she could be seen and heard better,
haughtily conscious of the fact that she was presiding over
the most looked-up-to, respected, and successful group of
Negro women in New York. And that meant in the United
States. She was a little less than supercilious in her tone and
manner when, Veronica having finished reading the sum-
mary of the minutes of the previous meeting with its refer-
ences to the dance committee and what they were supposed
to do, she asked Veronica, who was chairman of the dance
committee, for a report.


FALSE MEASURE 19
Veronica Peyton annoyed Beatrice. Not that Veronica
didn't possess everything a member of her group ought to
possess; because she did, and more than some. Veronica was
a junior high school teacher, and was forever climbing up
those dark, dirty, dingy steps into the filthy slum homes of
some of her pupils, taking them gifts when they were ill, al-
ways meeting representatives from social agencies in their
homes so that conditions she imagined existed could be cor-
rected. Furthermore, she was always trying to enlist the serv-
ices of her friends to collect money for those people —
usually low-lifed Negroes. She even had the nerve to want
you to go around to these slum homes, delivering packages
and the like. Beatrice didn't mind giving a little donation
to these small enterprises of Veronica's, but she wasn't going
to be climbing any dirty, dark stairways in slum tenements
and running the risk of picking up vermin. Besides, you
might get raped by some of those cut-throat niggers in that
area.
Then, Veronica didn't always view an occasion in the
proper perspective. There she was in her slacks, well-tailored
green gabardine, of course, from Wanamaker's where she
had a charge account, but slacks nonetheless. This was their
first fall get-together and all the girls had come out in their
latest finery, new fall suits and dresses, shoes and hats and
handbags, as befitted this event. But Veronica came in those
slacks and a brown three-quarter length box coat, her hands
shoved down in the pockets, and without a handbag. And no
hat!
Veronica was standing at the end of the room with both
hands pushed down into the pockets of her slacks. She reared
her heels at times in narrating the progress they had made
in arranging the fall dance. An unruly wisp of her long red
hair was continually falling in her face as she gestured with
her head. She would brush back the incorrigible strands of
hair with the back of her hand, momentarily straighten up
and then replace the hand in her pocket. She was wearing a
kelly green sweater that blended with her green eyes. She
could have posed as a sweater girl for anybody's magazine.
She had a round, childlike face with a small nose upturned
at the end and a little mouth which always had a smile. Her


20 FALS£ MEASURE
height was a little below average, about five-three, but her
contours were better than average.
"Now girls, you know there are five members of our en-
tertainment committee," Veronica articulated slowly. "At
no time since our last meeting have all five of us been to-
gether at one meeting and never the same ones at successive
meetings. Of course, the intervening summer weeks, with
everyone out of town or in and out of town, were responsi-
ble for that, not a lack of initiative on anyone's part. As for
me, you know I was in France for eight weeks, but since I've
been back I've met with two other members of the com-
mittee and talked with the others by phone. It seems there's
a split in the committee, two against two, with me neutral,
as to whether we should have our fall dance uptown or-
downtown. Two are dead set on having it at the Towers,
the Essex House, the Taft, or the Waldorf, because it would
be more in keeping with who we are and our position as a
group. The other two want it at the Savoy, if we can get it
for a closed dance on that particular Friday night, because
they say the music is always better and everybody seems to
let themselves go and have a much better time. Downtown
everybody's so reserved; they don't drink as much and try
so hard to present the proper picture that they act like a
bunch of phonies, and then in the end don't have as much
fun as they ought to have, considering the amount of money
we put out for our large formal dances. As for me, I agree
with the latter group and would rather have the affair at
the Savoy, if we can get the hall the night we want it, but I
thought that rather than cast the deciding vote myself, it
ought to be put up to the club as a whole. After that decision
is made, we can go to work and arrange the dance. How
about a show of hands as to what section of the city you pre-
fer for the dance?"
There was a chorus of yes's.
Beatrice was sitting statue-like, with her face cold and
immobile, but with her eyes glued to Veronica as Veronica
talked. Beatrice frigidly asked, "Don't you think others of
us ought to be allowed to comment before a vote is taken?"
Joan melodiously said, "Oh, Veronica, darling, I too


FALSE MEASURE 21
think some of us should be allowed to comment before a
vote is taken," and then smiled sweetly.
A few of the others nodded their heads. Veronica cut her
eyes at Beatrice and then feigned a haughty attitude, throw-
ing her head back and to one side, looking down her nose
with her eyes half closed and pursing her lips. She spoke
with an English accent, "My dear Beatrice, since you raised
the question suppose you be the first to comment."
Without changing her expression and without moving,
Beatrice said, "As far as I'm concerned this dance should be
held downtown. Since this is New York City and our group
is accepted at the best places, we should get as far away from
common niggers as possible, not only this time, but for every
affair we have. The Savoy is all right, but it's the peasants'
and the laborers' hangout and even though they're excluded
when we're there I don't like the location and the conno-
tation the name Savoy has for many people."
"I would rather go downtown for our dance too, but not
for exactly the same reasons that Beatrice does," Joan spoke
up. "On public nights at the Savoy, if you make up a party
and contact the manager beforehand, he'll make complete
arrangements for you, reserve a box, assign you a waiter, and
so forth, and it is possible to enjoy yourself observing the
black proletariat enjoying itself. However, I think our
dances should always be in a different setting, more in keep-
ing with our tastes, even though the common darkies are
excluded when we're there and we don't have to mingle with
them."
Excited and irritated, arms akimbo, Veronica stormed,
"Aw, for Christ's sake, no matter how great and important
and high society you glamorous women think you are, in the
eyes of most of white America you're still just a bunch of
niggers — in spite of your extensive wardrobes, your good
looks, your white faces, your cars, your homes, and your
training. As for me, we ought to have the affair at the Savoy.
Our last one in the spring was at the Essex House, so why
not have this one uptown? Furthermore, if most of you were
honest with yourselves, you'd admit you prefer having it
uptown, but you just want to be damn different and do
things most Negroes can't do."


22 FALSE MEASURE
Helen Terrence chimed in above others trying to speak.
"I agree with Veronica."
Prudence went along with what Joan had said. Harriet
Douglas agreed with Beatrice. Two others said they agreed
with Beatrice. Then three others said they agreed with
Veronica. So many were speaking at once and others clamor-
ing to be heard that Beatrice rose austerely and called them
to order, saying that Veronica had the floor and was conduct-
ing the meeting until the discussion of the dance was over.
If they wished to speak, raise their hands and wait until
recognized by Veronica, and don't interrupt another speaker,
no matter how much they may disagree.
As a compromise, Veronica suggested that all formal dis-
cussion as to where the dance should be held be closed at
that point and they vote on their choice at the next meeting.
Joan objected. The next meeting was not scheduled for an-
other month and since the dance was tentatively set for the
first week in November, they might not be able to engage a
hall on such short notice.
"Well, then," Veronica said impatiently, "each member
call me up within the next couple of days and let me know
what her decision is. Then I'll pass it on to the full com-
mittee and we can go to work."
Calmly, Beatrice interposed, "That's not the proper way
to do it, Veronica. All members should be present in person
at a meeting when such a vote is taken."
More ruffled, Veronica replied, "Am I not to be trusted?
Do you think I'd give a wrong count?"
"I have an idea," Prudence said enthusiastically. "Why
not have a luncheon meeting Saturday at one o'clock at
Flamingo's? Everybody should have thought it over by then."
On a show of hands there were no dissenters. So the dis-
cussion as to what part of the city would be host to the Con-
cordians and their guests was held in abeyance until Satur-
day afternoon. The luncheon meeting would afford them
another early chance to display their good looks, their attire,
and their cars.
Other minor items having been disposed of, Beatrice said
the next order of business would be candidates for member-
ship, if there were any. They hadn't accepted a candidate for


FALSE MEASURE 23
more than two years because they deliberately kept their
membership at a fixed number of twenty-three, and nobody
ever resigned from this club, except for very very special
reasons. About eight months before this meeting, one of the
members took up permanent residence in California and
resigned. To fill this vacancy, one of the girls had submitted
the name of a close friend of many years' standing, a former
classmate. The candidate was very promptly blackballed, in
secret ballot, by no less than five members. (One thumbs-
down was enough to keep her out.) The sponsor was furious
at the heavy vote against her friend and challenged the girls
to give their reasons. No one spoke up but Beatrice and, in
doing so, let it be known how she had cast her supposedly
secret vote. Beatrice forced a smile and in a modulated tone
explained, "Your candidate may possess some fine attributes
as far as you're concerned, but we just don't feel she's what
we want in our club. I've heard that before she married her
assistant district attorney she kept company with a common
bartender for some months. Because she's proved herself to
be indiscriminate in one important instance and continued
it over a long period, we're afraid she may do something
even more reprehensible after becoming a member of our
club, and we couldn't tolerate that."
The sponsor had fumed. "That's not your reason! It's
mainly that she's not white-looking enough to suit you. She
possesses everything else equivalent to what the others here
possess."
Icily, in a manner unusual for her, Joan had said, "That
may be true. Her color may have something to do with it.
After all, all of us are more Anglo-Saxon than anything else
and we must be careful about those with whom we mingle
on a social level." Joan had let it be known how she had
voted.
The sponsor had fairly screamed that it would have been
more honest for Beatrice to say it was the girl's color that
was keeping her out rather than mention one of her affairs,
because as she well knew there was hardly a woman in "this
goddamned, clannish, snobbish club" who hadn't carried on
a clandestine affair with some nigger man she wouldn't be
seen with publicly because he was below their so-called social


FALSE MEASURE
25
waiter and the maid moved about the room, attending to
the guests. Beatrice went from one group to another, chat-
ting. Frequently she would call out sternly, "George, some
more ham here," or "George, scotch and soda here."
Joan and Prudence moved to a corner love-seat, as far
as they could get from the others, and had their heads to-
gether, talking in low tones. Prudence was laughingly saying
to Joan, "Oh, Dick Robinson is no boy friend of mine. I've
known him for years. We were schoolmates at Fisk years
ago, you know."
Joan asked with amazement in her voice, "How could a
man with his looks and fairly good income remain single
so long?"
"Well," Prudence answered, "I don't believe he wanted
to get married. He's still a sort of glamor boy."
"Hmm!" uttered Joan.
"Interested?"
"Well, a little. But are you sure he means nothing to
you?"
Hugging Joan, Prudence said, "Of course he doesn't,
baby doll. I've got my usual guy coming for me tonight. I
just invited Dick so he could meet the gang. I haven't laid
eyes on him for almost three years. If you get the chance,
turn the charm on and see how he reacts."
"I won't get the chance tonight," said Joan, "because he
and Clifford will be arriving together."
"I tell you what," offered Prudence, "come to my house
tomorrow night if you can. He'll be there. Also my old
stand-by John. Don't worry about him, though, he won't
talk."
"I'll arrange to be there, baby!"
"Tell me, sugar pie," Prudence asked, "what's the cur-
rent status of the guy who was drooling over you so at
Martha's Vineyard all summer?"
"Oh, well, he served his temporary purpose and the day
Emma and I closed the house at the Vineyard I told him I
didn't want to see him again and not to telephone me in
New York."
"You know, I suppose, that your having been seen with
him so much during those weeks — on the beach, in your


FALSE MEASURE 27
the same as having been done. He's highly respected in this
town."
Dick mumbled his thanks.
The rest of the men, glasses in hand, were watching a
wrestling match on the television set at the end of the room.
Robert Lynch, Jr., who should have been in bed hours
before, poked his half-blond head into the room where the
women were still scattered about. Someone spied him and
called out, "Come here, Bob, and give me a hug." Bob
smiled and displayed the braces on his teeth. He walked over
to the lady who had called him and, dignified, submitted to
her embrace. Others called him and he was introduced to
those he didn't know. He bowed, shook hands, yielded to
embraces, always exuding the culture and upper-class man-
ners that had been instilled in him at home and at the ex-
clusive private school.
Robert was a precocious child, having a natural bent
to literature and science, which was encouraged by his father
and mother. His literary inclinations were satisfied in his
father's extensive library and his propensity for science was
spurred by the junior science sets his parents supplied. He
was a potentially handsome and lively boy. But he was a
lonely child. He had few companions and no close ones. His
mother supervised his recreation and kept him from playing
with ordinary boys. "You must be discriminating," she
would say. "That young man is not in our class, so you can't
play with him." The boy whiled away his free hours with
his books, his amateur science, and his mother, whom he
loved and respected.
After he had spoken to all the women present, Robert's
mother took him by the hand and led him to the door, say-
ing, "Bob, it's time you were in bed." She kissed him and
Robert ran off to bed, calling "Good night, mother dear,"
as Beatrice, smiling, stood watching him as he ascended the
stairs. She was proud of her son.
Prudence moved over to the baby grand and struck up
a popular tune. Harriet, standing over her, started singing
in a soprano voice. A few of the men were now in the room.
Everyone stopped to listen. Prudence joined in the song as


28 FALSE MEASURE
she played, picking up the alto notes and turning her face
toward the audience, gesticulating with her head and eyes
as she sang. The way they rendered the song they could have
been professionals in any theater or night club. Then they
played a duet with both accompanying in song. They were
both good pianists and their voices were harmonious. When-
ever they met and there was a piano around they teamed
up. They had done it so often they had become proficient at
it, to their own and others' enjoyment. The end of each
number was greeted with applause.
Harriet was married to Dr. Harvey Douglas, a dentist
whose earnings were high. She was an undergraduate at the
University of Chicago and he was in the dental school when
they met. Upon her graduation, they married and settled in
New York. At first they lived in the rear of the apartment
where he had his office in uptown New York. Later, when
his practice increased, they took another apartment for liv-
ing only and he spread his offices into the other rooms and
enlarged his equipment. Recently they had built a large
ranch house in Queens and had moved in just two weeks be-
fore this meeting. Prudence was to be hostess for the next
meeting one month hence, but at Harriet's request, they had
switched dates so Harriet would have an early chance to
show off the new house. Harriet was affectedly modest and
sweet. She had one of those childish voices which seemed
more childish than it naturally was. She always wore her
straight, dark brown hair parted in the middle, pulled back
and done up in a bun on the nape of her neck — to make
her girlish round face stand out, she thought. Tonight
Harriet was attired in a youthful, low-necked beige dress
with touches of brown, and matching brown pumps. The
shade of her outfit was slightly darker than her large, light
brown eyes which she used as would a youngster who has
just been told she has beautiful large eyes.
Prudence and Harriet had just ended another song when
Dr. Douglas, hat in hand, walked over and ssaid, "C'mon,
dear, it's almost midnight and we have quite a ride home."
"Yes," said Harriet to Prudence, "we haven't been out
there long enough to have gotten used to the 'Long Voyage
Home' after an evening in New York. But believe me.


FALSE MEASURE 29
Prudence, our place is worth the long trip. You'll think so
too when you see it," she bragged.
Near the door, Judge Lynch had joined Beatrice to say
good night to the guests. As the women approached to leave,
some were heard to ask, "What are you going to wear Satur-
day?" Generally the answer was, "Oh, I have something
around the house I haven't worn for some time that I'll put
on." In fact, not a single one of them would be seen at the
Saturday afternoon meeting without a new outfit. They
knew if they came in something that had ever been seen be-
fore they would be picked to pieces. For that reason and be-
cause they had to keep up with the Joneses, they would have
new apparel for Saturday.
Every one of these women had her proper charge ac-
counts at New York's better stores and they used them, as
their appearance established. A listing of their stores in-
cluded Bergdorf Goodman, Tailored Woman, Franklin
Simon, Lord & Taylor, Saks Fifth Avenue, and other stores
of similar renown. If they went to another store of lesser
fame because of a special sale or a special article they fancied,
they would never mention it. They were label-conscious and
they couldn't tolerate trade marks inside their garments that
didn't indicate purchase at the right stores for those in their
class.
To make it seem innocent, Joan's last words to Prudence,
as Clifford stood by on the sidewalk in front of the Lynches',
were, "See you after dinner tomorrow night at your house
and we can go over those unfinished club matters."
"Swell," Prudence called back, running to her car, knock-
kneed like most girls run. "Good night, Clifford."


The principal and the female senior class advisor were not
dismayed or disappointed about the girl who was voted
"Prettiest Girl." She was certainly the prettiest girl in the
graduating class at Springfield High, and probably the most
attractive girl they had seen in many classes, and both had
been at Springfield High for over twenty years. But this girl
was a colored girl. They had seen attractive colored girls at
their high school before, some of whom were prettier than
the traditional white girl voted "Prettiest Girl." Heretofore,
the students seemed always to follow a code, not set down,
but abided by, which said that no non-white would be
elected "Prettiest Girl," even if she were. For some reason,
which the principal and the old maid senior class advisor
were trying to figure out, the 1937 class didn't adhere to this
custom.
"Joan Turner is a pretty and attractive girl, even if
she is colored," the dignified principal said to his companion
in the privacy of his office.
"Still have an eye for a pretty girl, haven't you?" the old
maid chuckled.
Straightening up and assuming an august manner, the
principal said, "And she's been a good student," studying
the card in front of him. "All marks above eighty. And a
good many in the nineties."
"She has a pleasing personality that sort of draws you to
her," the teacher added. "Sometimes I have wanted to hug
her and kiss her on her cheek when we have been discussing
problems that have come up regarding different school
organizations with which she's connected. You know, of
course, that she has been active in extracurricular activities
— the drama club, debating club, art club, and the entertain-
ment committee. Last year at the junior prom, do you re-
member her escort was Henry Jackson, the manufacturer's
son? I don't think he knew at the time that she was a Negro.
30


FALSE MEASURE 31
She surely doesn't look it and her parents don't either, so
when he went to call for her, that wouldn't have given her
away."
"Yes, I remember seeing them together. I noticed it, but
I never said anything about it. Subconsciously, I thought he
couldn't have been with a more attractive and intelligent
girl. Besides, she has such a pleasing personality."
"There you go again," chortled the teacher.
Resuming a stern manner, the principal said, "I should
like to call to your attention that I have been happily mar-
ried now for many years and that there are two children
resulting from this union. My only interest in other girls or
women is purely aesthetic, the same as you might like to
look at beautiful flowers."
Anne Clarke made a wry face. "You know, I have known
you for many, many years, Dr. Grahame. As a young boy and
young man you were always interested in good-looking
ladies. You grew up chasing teen-agers, you went away to
college and returned still chasing, but those a little older.
Then you married and as far as the public and the school
board were concerned you settled down and stopped chasing.
But I know better and you know I know better. Do you re-
member my good friend Mary? And what happened? The
only difficulty is you've gotten old now so there's nothing
for you to do but live the life the public has always thought
you lived."
And then the principal said in a more ingratiating man-
ner, "Let's forget my private life and continue with the dis-
cussion for which you came. Before that, I should like to
say this though: why have you never married? As a young-
ster you were attractive, your womanhood bloomed, and in
your middle age with your white hair and young face you
still could have had a man if you had wanted to. Even me,
only I was already married." He paused. "I do believe,
though, pardon my saying so, that you've known a man or
two in your life. You couldn't help it — you were too at-
tractive and for that reason subjected to so many temp-
tations. Anyhow, there's one thing I've got to say for you in
addition to the fact that you have a well-developed mind.


32 FALSE MEASURE
You have managed to stay young along with each succeeding
class. They love you for it, come to you with whatever is
bothering them, because they know you'll be sympathetic
and will understand and advise wisely. Yours is an unusual
quality, never found in old maid teachers and seldom found
in married ones. Do you know that I know some ten years
ago one of our girls became pregnant, came to you with her
problem, and you arranged everything? She had the abortion,
was out of school for about a week, returned, and graduated
with her class. She went on to college, graduated, married,
and now has two children. She's very happy. Without your
intervention her life might have been ruined. As for me,
considering the pedestal on which I sit here in this small
town, there would have been nothing for me to do but expel
her in disgrace if the matter had been brought to my atten-
tion. The board would have stood for nothing less. However,
when I learned of it — I won't tell you how — I loved you
for it and was proud of you for the way you handled it. The
parents, too, would have groveled at your feet for having
saved their daughter from shame."
Miss Clarke replied, "I don't know how you learned of
that girl's trouble that occurred ten years ago — and I won't
ask — but I do know she's making out all right. Just one
little mistake, so why should her life have been ruined by
the puritanical attitudes of many people in this city? As for
my personal affairs, whether I've known a man or two is
none of your business, my drying-up friend. I've lived a full
life, but always discriminating and with an eye to the mores
of my group. Anyone who lives in a cloister is in no position
to advise and guide teen-agers. As to why I've never married,
well, briefly let me say this. I've devoted my life to this school
and now I guess I'm a little less than married to it. In all
my years in this crass town, with but one exception all the
eligible men I've met were drips. And that one had to go off
and get himself killed in an auto accident. I gave up looking
for a worthwhile man in this area years ago. Now, let's stop
talking about me and get back to Joan Turner, which is the
reason I'm down here in your office in the first place. A re-
porter is coming here today to get some background for a
piece on Joan. The local paper considers it front-page news


FALSE MEASURE 33
when a colored girl is selected 'Prettiest Girl' in her high
school graduating class."
Dr. Grahame said, "You know, if any of the students
didn't know she's colored, they'll know it now."
"Well, I'm sure they all know it now, even before her
election. In recent months she's been associating with
Negroes exclusively, outside of school. They're like her,
though, of a particular class. That colored dentist's son, the
caterer's daughter, the undertaker's daughter, and some
others of similar background."
"What does her father do?"
"For years he's had a barber shop in the colored section
in the north end. The family, father, mother, and Joan —
she's an only child — used to live over the shop. Evidently
he's a good businessman because two years ago they bought
and furnished attractively a new house in Pine Point. I've
been there. An evening with them would in no way indicate
they're anything but middle-class whites. They certainly
don't look Negroid. They're nothing like the traditional
concept of what Negroes are supposed to be like or how
they're supposed to live: not like what you read in books or
sociological reports, or the gibberish you see in the movies."
"What does Joan intend to do after graduation?"
"She's going up to Smith."
"Good, she'll do well there. When that local reporter
comes I'll refer him to you because you're able to fill him
in on detailed questions which I wouldn't be able to answer.
About all I can give him is her scholastic record."
"All right. Buzz me when he gets here."
The colored dentist's son, Henry, Jr., accompanied Joan
to the senior prom at the Hotel Kimball. He was sixteen
and hadn't yet learned to dance decently, but with Joan's
guidance they didn't look too bad on the ballroom floor. He
was obviously colored. But handsome. Otherwise, Joan
wouldn't have been with him. Her parents wouldn't have
approved.


34 FALSE MEASURE
Joan was wearing her first grown-up evening gown. It
was pale blue taffeta and flared out from her small waist and
rustled. The neckline was low, not too low, and kind to her
budding breasts. The sleeves were short and puffed. Her
slippers were pale blue satin. That afternoon — the appoint-
ment was made a week before — she had her first experience
with a professional hairdresser. He had one of those French
names and had a salon on Main Street. He had set her
natural waves with his experienced hand (feminine, Joan
thought), added some more, and said when she was leaving,
"Comb it out just before you leave for your affair."
Joan's mother had supervised the final touches to her
make-up and her hair. She finally said, "Nobody could look
any better. Now go and have a good time." Downstairs, her
father dropped his evening paper long enough to take her in
from head to foot, remark that she certainly looked mighty
good, and shake hands with the young man in his first
tuxedo; he admonished him to take good care of their only
daughter, and hoped they would have a good time.
When they arrived at the ballroom there were cries:
Here comes Joan. Isn't she positively gorgeous! Hair and
eyes glistening and with a sparkling smile, her arm looped
in Henry's, Joan traversed the length of the ballroom, nod-
ding and shaking hands, and giving a hug now and then. All
eyes were on her, and opportunely for her entrance, the
band wasn't playing, so she received full attention. They
made her get up on the platform and say a few words into
the microphone. She concluded, "I have made some friends
at Springfield High who shall be friends of mine for the rest
of my life. Springfield High is the best in the United States."
Her escort was unobtrusively standing on the sidelines. Joan
had to search for him after her little speech. After all, she
did have to give him the first dance and she had granted
enough requests to fill her program for the rest of the eve-
ning. The males had virtually surrounded her after her
speech and at their insistent requests she had filled her book.
The prom ended at three and Joan had to look for her
escort. She should have given him the last dance, but, hell,
she didn't know when the final number was coming up and
she still hadn't danced with six boys listed in her book.


36
FALSE MEASURE
in anything but studies for my first year at Smith. After that,
and with my feet on the ground, I'll go into other things for
which you don't gain credits."
Talking low and to Joan only, with her head bent to
Joan's ear, Miss Clarke continued. "I don't know what fi-
nancial arrangements have been made for your higher edu-
cation, but if you should find yourself running short, don't
be reluctant to call on me for aid there too. I know your
father is doing well for a small businessman but it's expen-
sive to send a girl to one of these women's schools. I'm still
unmarried as you know — I'm aware that the students refer
to me as 'that modern, understanding old maid' — so my
income is good, after teaching and guiding students like you
for over a generation. There wouldn't be any difficulty for
me to help you. I live in a mortgage-free, rambling house
with my retired father and my mother. The only expenses
I have now are my clothes." She laughed. "So, there you are,
and I know of nothing better I could do with my extra
money than help such a fine prospect as you."
Joan couldn't reply immediately. She put her arm around
the teacher's waist and kissed her on her cheek. Pensively,
she said, "I do love you for your offer, but so far the funds
for my college education appear to be secure. I have a wid-
owed aunt who's splitting college costs with my father."
And then, with spontaneous enthusiasm, "My parents are
giving me a party on graduation night. My aunt will be
there. Would you come, if only for a few minutes?"
"Of course I will. Now you and the rest of this crowd go
on home to bed. It's after four!"
Mrs. Turner, dozing in the living room chair, heard the
car pull up in front of the house. By the time she reached the
door, peered through and made certain it was her little girl,
they were on the porch. Henry had his hat in hand, mumbl-
ing about what a swell evening it had been. Joan was smiling
sweetly, telling him to be sure and come to the graduation
party. Her mother opened the door and sleepily asked if
they had had a good time. Joan replied that it had been a
scrumptious evening and swung on her mother's neck, nearly
upsetting her. The young man agreed that it had been a


FALSE MEASURE 37
fine evening. He bowed good night to Mrs. Turner, got in
the car, and drove around the comer on two wheels.
As a young man, on his return from World War I, Mr.
Turner had gone back to Hampton Institute to complete
his course. It was there that he met the meek and demure
young lady who later became his wife. They were both from
nearby towns in North Carolina. When they announced
their engagement, their parents advised them to go north
where opportunities were better. They picked Springfield
because Mr. Turner had an Army buddy who lived there
and he spoke glowingly of the town. Barbering was some-
thing Mr. Turner had learned as a sideline to help him
through school but now he would make it his livelihood.
With what he and his wife had saved, plus presents from
their parents, they set out for Springfield. His Army buddy
had made preliminary arrangements for a place to stay.
Within five days Mr. Turner had found a location for his
shop in the colored section. He opened his doors for business
two weeks after he had set foot in town. His Army buddy
took a job with him and had been with him ever since. Busi-
ness had been good from the start and had remained so on
through the years. His four-chair shop was a fixture in the
neighborhood. At first they lived upstairs over the shop.
Later he bought the building. He and his wife were con-
servative, respected citizens. They were cultured too, they be-
lieved. Mrs. Turner belonged to two book clubs and read
the right women's magazines. Mr. Turner, besides the daily
paper, read Time and the Saturday Review of Literature.
They had had an automobile since they married and each
time they turned one in, the next one was more expensive,
in accordance with Mr. Turner's increased earnings and the
paying off their bills. They took vacations in the proper
faraway places and sent back postcards as proof they were
there.
The Turners had been in Springfield not fully two years
when their daughter Joan was born. She was a beautiful
baby, looked like a white child, and had curly blond hair


38 FALSE MEASURE
which turned darker as she grew older. She surpassed her
personable parents in good looks as she approached early
teen age and grew on into adolescence. From the beginning,
when Joan started kindergarten, and then first grade, her
mother commenced selecting her playmates. Consideration
was chiefly of their appearance — they must be fair, and
most assuredly not black — and they were the correct ones,
attention having been paid to who their parents were. At a
very young age, younger than most girls are taught, and some
never, Joan started learning from Mrs. Turner the impera-
tiveness of feminine cleanliness and neatness. These early
lessons and admonitions stayed with her the rest of her life.
There was the daily bath, two when the weather was hot,
and clean underclothing without fail every day and for that
second bath if she took it. When she was a little tot there
were always the daily starched ginghams and the organdies
for dress-up occasions. Each morning her hair was freshly
curled or, if the weather was warm, parted and pulled back
with a ribbon. Later as a young teen-ager, there were the
daily skirt and sweater, or jumper and blouse, or skirt and
blouse. Her party dresses were usually of pastel taffetas. Mrs.
Turner was always cognizant of the color of Joan's hair and
eyes and that her clothing must harmonize. Summer attire
was generally sheer cotton or silk dresses in simple styles, but
always the proper color.
Joan roller-skated, ice-skated, had her bicycle, and was a
jitterbug like most normal teen-agers. She bought all the
latest swing records. After school her crowd would gather at
someone's house and compare the relative merits of Benny
Goodman, the Dorsey brothers, Artie Shaw, Count Basie,
and Duke Ellington. They would practice the latest steps.
Mrs. Turner always knew at whose house Joan was. Fre-
quently they whiled away some time at one or two popular
"sugar bowls" with their soda fountains and juke boxes. Joan
went to chaperoned teen-age dances on Friday and Saturday
nights. Often her mother was one of the chaperones. If Mrs.
Turner wasn't chaperoning, she knew who was. On Sundays
the whole family, caparisoned in their latest and best, went
to the colored Episcopal church. Mr. Turner was one of the
wardens. The Turners were doting parents. As a child there


FALSE MEASURE 39
was no toy that Joan wanted for, and as an adolescent she
was able to get every accepted fad. When Joan was a sopho-
more in high school it was time to allow decent, well-be-
haved young men to call on her.
It was then that she and her mother had their first funda-
mental disagreement. Joan's first caller was also a high
school student who intended to go on to college. He was
mannerly, well behaved, and such a good student there was
a possibility he might have been awarded a scholarship. But
as far as Mrs. Turner was concerned, he was too dark, and
besides, his father was one of those common mill workers.
And, to top it off, his mother worked as a domestic on week-
ends! She told Joan the young man couldn't come again and
was cold and rude to him during the visit. Joan was furious
with her mother. After the caller left, she said she didn't
care who his parents were or what they did or did not do
for a living. The only things she was concerned with, were
his behavior and potentialities. And, she emphasized, he was
certainly much better behaved than some of the white-look-
ing boys Mrs. Turner approved of. In addition, he was a
good student and a football player on the varsity team too.
Mrs. Turner was adamant. She couldn't draw Mr. Turner
into the conversation because he said, "I make my living off
those black niggers you disapprove of and some of them are
all right." Then he went back to his evening paper. Joan had
a last word with her mother, cried, and slammed herself in
her bedroom.
The young man was bewildered at his reception. Joan
was always so nice to him around school. But that mother of
hers!
One evening Mr. Turner came upstairs, ate his dinner,
and settled in a chair for an evening's reading when Mrs.
Turner disrupted his composure with the following: "This
building has been paid for, hasn't it? We only owe two pay-
ments on the car, isn't that right? And we have almost five
thousand dollars in the bank, don't we?"
Mr. Turner gave a desultory "yes" to these questions
until Mrs. Turner really sprang one. "I want to get out of
this neighborhood, mainly for Joan's sake. Yours and mine
too, only I'm afraid you won't see it immediately."


40 FALSE MEASURE
Mr. Turner, who ordinarily never used profanity before
his wife, replied, "You're goddamn right I won't see immedi-
ately why we should move from this house!"
He eventually did see. Although he wasn't completely in
accord with his wife's phony (as he called them) reasons for
buying another house in an almost completely white neigh-
borhood, he finally acquiesced after considerable pressure,
applied in stages. Her arguments for what she wanted gener-
ally centered around Joan. "She's getting to be a young lady
now," or "I don't like these common niggers looking at my
Joan when she comes in and out of this house," and "We
have enough money now to purchase a house away from
your business and Joan's friends can come without having to
climb stairs over your shop," and finally, "We're successful
in a small way, so why not move to the suburbs as everyone
else does and have a lawn and the like?"
So they bought a rambling three-story house with land
around it in Pine Point. Mrs. Turner had her flowers to
tend and Mr. Turner had his lawn to cut with a newfangled
lawn mower with a gasoline motor. They bought some out-
door furniture and Joan gave lawn parties, always having
both Negroes and whites. Most of the Negroes, the girls at
least, looked like whites.
When the principal called Joan's name in the filled-to-
overflowing auditorium, and she walked up the steps and
onto the platform, with distinguished visitors seated from
end to end, the pleased, proud smiles were spontaneous, not
as mechanical as they were for so many others who walked up
on the platform that graduation afternoon. She was elegant
in her white dress with the full skirt which she deftly lifted
on raising her foot for the first step. The brilliance of her
smiling, pretty face equaled that of the fresh corsage of red
roses at her left breast as she gracefully made her way to
the center of the rostrum where the principal was holding
her diploma. The energetic applause reached such a pitch
by the time she had accepted the diploma and reached the
opposite end of the platform that she paused momentarily,
deeply moved, and looked at Dr. Grahame. "What shall I
do?" her expression asked. He motioned to her, palm up-
raised and pointing to the audience, to ackowledge the ap-


FALSE MEASURE 41
plause. That she did with a courtly bow, the skirt of her
dress stretched by the fingertips of each hand, the ribboned
diploma squeezed in the palm of the right hand, the knee
bent low and the head bowed, in the manner of a refined
curtsy at a European court.
The unrestrained manifestations of approval, Joan knew,
were because of her far-above-average good looks, her scho-
lastic achievements, refinement, popularity, and personality.
She had received so much more acclamation than either the
valedictorian or the salutatorian. With all this, she was
colored and had been chosen "Prettiest Girl." Everybody
seemed to adore her. These things flitted through her mind
as she descended the steps and she was unable to restrain
her emotions. Tears ran down her cheeks. The girls arose
from the graduates' section and escorted her to the rear
where her mother and father, viewing her slight loss of com-
posure, had left their seats and were in the aisle waiting for
her with open arms. Her mother couldn't restrain her feel-
ings either, and she too had tears running down her cheeks.
She hugged and patted her daughter. "We're so proud of
you. Everyone recognizes in you the same things we do." Mr.
Turner patted them both and asked them to compose them-
selves. Temporarily the proceedings had stopped and all
eyes were upon them. Three seats having been made avail-
able by guests graciously moving over, Mr. Turner guided
them in and then sat down beside them. Joan, clutching her
diploma, did not go back to sit with her classmates.
Suddenly Mrs. Turner remembered that photographers
were there from local and nearby newspapers. They wanted
Joan's picture, above all. Even the New York newspapers
had reported that a colored girl had been elected prettiest
in Springfield's graduating class. The Springfield papers and
those in the surrounding towns would probably print her
picture on the front page. Joan should look her very best.
"Joan, for God's sake," Mrs. Turner pleaded, "get yourself
together. Look at your face. Remember, the photographers
are here, waiting for you more than anyone else. They told
me so."
That made Joan straighten up. She had forgotten. She
excused herself, clambered across her father, left the hall, and


42 FALSE MEASURE
went to the girls' room. When she returned she had erased
all traces of her tears and was as glowing as ever. All diplo-
mas had been issued, the closing speech had been made, and
the final song, "Alma Mater," was being sung. Joan was in
time to lend her voice to the singing.
Leaving the school, on the steps and on the sidewalk
Joan met a barrage of photographers' bulbs and sharp orders
from cameramen. Turn this way, and Turn that way, and
Hold it, and Now, one of the family group, and Now, one
of you alone, and Young lady, don't stand here, and Mister,
will you please get out of the way! Mr. Turner immediately
withdrew to the background after one picture; Mrs. Turner
withdrew after posing a second time with Joan. They both
said, "This is Joan's day, not ours."
The weather happened to be exactly what is hoped for
on graduation day. The sky was cloudless and blue, the sun
blinding and hot. The glare was increased by the white
dresses of the girls standing and darting about the spacious
lawn artistically crisscrossed with sidewalks. Mr. Turner
backed up against the fieldstone front of the school to take
advantage of the few inches of shade there. His eyes traversed
the scene in front of him. He was as proud of his daughter's
good looks and achievements as his wife was, but he was
more modest. He watched Joan posing for pictures, then his
eyes wandered to the others. Without knowing it, he was
comparing her with other girls and finding that she was
better looking.
The picture-taking over, Joan scurried about bidding
farewells to students and teachers she might never see again.
"What do you plan to do in the fall?" Joan would ask while
giving a goodbye handshake.
Oh, I'm going to Connecticut College for Women, or I'm
going to Mount Holyoke, or I'm going to work, or I'm start-
ing a business course in a week and hope to be in somebody's
office in the fall, or I'm going up to Harvard, or I'm going
to Wesleyan, or I'm going to Williams, or I'm going to be an
apprentice to my father in his factory.
Joan said she was going to Smith. Some said. Gee, you're
lucky. Others said, Write to me and call me when you're in
town, and You're a smart girl and you'll do well, and Let's


FALSE MEASURE 43
visit each other at our schools. The teachers said, "You must
visit your alma mater when you're in the city."
Farewells over, Joan ran to her mother and father who
had seated themselves in their car, and were contentedly
watching Joan. Mrs. Turner was vicariously reveling in
Joan's popularity and happiness and thought of what she
might have been like as a young girl in this New England
setting.
Joan was still nervously excited. She seated herself in the
back seat and as her father drove off, her arms and head
were hanging out of the window as she waved and called her
last adieus. Slightly turning his head to the rear after they
had gone a block or two and Joan had fallen back against
the seat with a sigh, Mr. Turner said, "My child, I think
you ought to get into bed and rest yourself before tonight's
activities. Your nerves need to be quieted, and I think I have
something at home to help them along."
"Anything you say, daddy dear."
Mr. Turner pulled up to the curb in front of their home.
Their next-door neighbor ran to the car with her Brownie
camera, insisting that she must have a picture of Joan in her
graduation dress. Joan posed. The housewife went on to
complain that she knew Joan was having a party that night
and she hadn't invited her daughter Ruth, who was quite
hurt. Ruth would graduate next year but she wouldn't be
able to go on to college because they didn't have the money.
Besides, she wasn't as smart as Joan, the woman acknowl-
edged. Her husband was nothing but a skilled, dumb Irish
lathe hand, she went on, but her Ruth loved Joan and
looked up to her so much. In anticipation of the expected
invitation which never came, they had bought Ruth her first
party dress. Would Joan please invite her broken-hearted
Ruth? Joan glanced at her parents, standing at the curb. The
expressions on their faces indicated "Yes, of course." So she
threw her arms about the Irish housewife's neck and kissed
her cheek. "Please tell Ruth it was an oversight that she
wasn't invited and I'll be immensely disappointed if she
doesn't come."
"You haven't forgotten, I know," the housewife went on.
"You and Ruth have been rather close since you moved to


44 FALSEMEASURE
this neighborhood. It's only lately that you've avoided her.
You roller-skated together, you bicycled together, you taught
each other the latest dance steps and lent each other your
records. I think you understand why she feels injured. Now
I'll go home and tell her she's expected tonight. Don't tell
her I said anything to you about it. She's moping in her
room right now."
With smiling glances at each other but without any com-
ments, the Turners went into the house. Joan flopped down
in a plush living room chair, apparently exhausted. Her
mother sat down opposite, watching her. Her father went out
back and was stirring around. Mrs. Turner remarked, "Joan,
you're emotionally deflated and should lie down before to-
night."
Mr. Turner came into the room with a stiff hooker of
bourbon in one hand and a water chaser in the other.
"Drink this right down," he said, "and follow it with the
water. It'll quiet your nerves and make you sleep. You're
about to be a college lady now so you're old enough for me
to offer you a strong drink."
Joan gulped it down, thinking how, in curious experi-
mentation, she had secretly tasted this whisky before. "Now
go to bed and get some rest," he genially admonished. "The
sun is still high, but close the blinds."
Mrs. Turner ushered her daughter upstairs to her room,
helped her out of her dress, made her put on a net to pro-
tect that hairdo and saw her covered up. By that time the
bourbon had done its work. Joan's senses were dulled, her
eyes were closed. When her mother kissed her forehead say-
ing, "Have a nice nap," Joan, almost inaudibly, murmured,
"I will, mother."
This night there were caterers. Mrs. Turner felt it would
be too much work for her. Besides, her daughter's grad-
uation party was an event that should be done up properly.
With their paraphernalia, the caterers were at the back door
before the Turners could finish their evening meal. They
hadn't called Joan down. They'd let her sleep so she'd be
fresh for the evening's activities. Chewing a mouthful of
food, Mrs. Turner asked one of the caterer's drivers through


FALSE MEASURE 45
the rear screen door, "What are you doing here so early? The
affair doesn't start until half-past eight."
He replied firmly but respectfully, "Listen, lady, I work
on a schedule I don't make up. I was told to drop this here
stuff off here on my last stop. If it's too early I can't help it.
I go to the garage from here. Anyway, it's vacuum-packed
so nothing will spoil." With that he dropped one of the sev-
eral metal containers and he and his helper took off.
Mr. Turner advised his wife to finish her meal and forget
the caterers. After a while the waiters would come along and
they'd take care of things. If she didn't watch out she'd be
as nervously excited as Joan was. "Do you need a drink?" he
playfully asked.
"Yes, maybe, but after I've finished eating. It'll probably
do my nerves some good."
The dinner dishes washed, Mrs. Turner checked the hour
and decided to wake up Joan. She tiptoed to Joan's bedroom,
the hall light reflecting in, and softly shook her shoulder.
Joan sat up with a bound, refreshed. Noting the darkness,
she asked, "For God's sake, mother, what time is it? Why
did you let me sleep so long?"
"You needed the rest. Now come, let's get dressed. The
guests will be arriving any moment. Maybe I can get your
father to bring you up some dinner to eat as you dress. You
mustn't start this evening on an empty stomach."
Mrs. Turner stroked her daughter's forehead. Joan's
toes hit the floor. As she skipped to the shower she called,
"Tell daddy to put my dinner on the dressing table while I
bathe."
Before Mrs. Turner got downstairs her husband had ad-
mitted some teen-age guests. They had the record player
blasting the latest swing and immediately started to jitter-
bug. Joan heard the music and voices while still under the
shower, and said, "I'd better hasten this." Mrs. Turner
greeted the early arrivals, had a few whispered words with
Mr. Turner, and then went back up to make sure that every-
thing regarding Joan's attire and make-up was perfect. Joan
had already called down the rear stairs for her mother's as-
sistance.
Joan was in her robe, gulping the food her father had


46 FALSE MEASURE
placed on her dressing table. "Please, Joan, take your time.
You'll have indigestion soon enough without swallowing
your food whole," Mrs. Turner said.
Joan replied, "Okay, mother," and tried to slow down,
but that music and the youngsters' voices drew her like a
magnet. She continued to gulp.
When the last mouthtul was gone, Mrs. Turner directed,
"Now, go wipe your mouth with your washcloth and come
back here in a hurry so's I can get you dressed."
"Be right back, mother," Joan said as she dashed to the
bathroom. When she returned her mother had laid out her
dress and was picking out underclothing in the bureau
drawer.
Joan had on her dress and her mother was putting the
finishing touches to her hair while Joan finished her face,
when Mr. Turner came to the door and said that there was
a reporter downstairs from one of the New York Negro news-
papers. He wanted her to pose and give an interview.
Joan said, "I'll pose, but you can give him the interview.
Anyway, he's probably read everything about me in the
white papers, New York and elsewhere. That's what brought
him here." She glanced at her father. He seemed disap-
pointed, so she said, "All right, daddy, I'll talk with him
and pose for him. But you do the preliminary work."
Her mother nodded agreement and Mr. Turner went
back downstairs. "Listen, sugar pie," Mrs. Turner said, "I
want everything to be perfect before you go downstairs with
that newspaperman waiting. He'll snap you before you can
bat an eye."
"I know, mother."
Meanwhile, downstairs, more guests had been arriving.
The youngsters had filled the living room with themselves,
swing music, and dancing. The older folks had been chan-
neled into an adjoining sitting room. The caterer's waiters
were bustling about, waiting on the older folks buffet style.
The youngsters couldn't stop dancing long enough to be
bothered about eating and drinking. The adults, largely
parents of young bloods present, were being served cock-
tails made from Mr. Turner's private stock and he had gath-
ered some old cronies in the kitchen to partake of his ultra-


48 FALSE MEASURE
the air and the other held by her partner, hips shaking —
her mother caught her ear. "The photographer's waiting for
you."
Joan looked and saw him standing to one side, camera
ready, observing her. She called to him, "Be with you in a
minute," as she was swung out in a fancy, tricky step. A girl
dancing near her said, "Gosh, Joan, I wish I could learn that
step. You do it so well."
Jubilantly and gracefully, Joan did the step again and
said, "Let this guy teach you, he knows it well." Then she
guided her partner straight to the photographer and ab-
ruptly stopped. "Well," she said, laughing and panting,
"what can I do for you?"
"I'm from the Metropolitan Star," he said. "I was sent up
here to get some photos and also an interview. You got quite
a spread in the New York white papers and those up this
way too. We have to interview you personally for our own
story and get our own pictures. Do you mind? Pardon me
if I say your classmates certainly didn't go wrong in selecting
you 'Prettiest Girl.'"
Mrs. Turner had her own ideas as to how Joan should
pose for the best effect. She interrupted and told the news-
man he was to take two photos of Joan coming down the
stairs and two of her seated in a chair. Then he could take
as many others as he wished if Joan would allow him to.
Joan agreed with her mother and impatiently said, "C'mon,
let's get it over with, we're holding up the party." Running
to the stairs she asked, "Mother, where do you want me to
stand?"
Mrs. Turner shut off the record player and shushed the
jitterbuggers, telling them to be quiet and sit still at least
until the photographing was over so there wouldn't be any
distractions.
"All right, Joan, I'll be there in a minute," and she
turned back to a particularly noisy boy, the life-of-the-party
type, and sternly but with a smile told him to seat himself
and be quiet for the next few minutes. He did sit down and
immediately proceeded to pantomime grimaces and gestures
to the hand-muffled tittering of the others in the crowded
room.


FALSE MEASURE 49
Mrs. Turner placed Joan on the stairs, just below the
bend and halfway down. "Now place your hand on the rail-
ing," she said. "Hold your skirt in the fingertips of your
other hand and put your foot out as though you're about to
take a step down. Now turn your head toward the photog-
rapher and smile." The photographer had been moving
about getting Joan in focus. Mrs. Turner said, "We're
ready."
The photographer said, "Now bring that smile back."
Joan protested, "I can't hold it forever while you move
around peering through that thing." Just then she glanced
over at the pantomimist who had been trying his best to
catch her eye. His facial expression made her giggle, and
that's when the photographer caught her. He remarked that
it would make an excellent candid picture.
Mrs. Turner would have none of that. Joan was to pose
sedately, with a pleasant smile, no broad grins, and no throaty
laughs. She stalked over to the mischief-maker and told him
in no uncertain manner that he was to subdue his amateur
showmanship until the photographing was over. Then she
returned to Joan, checked her pose, told her to move her
head to the left an inch and smile. She turned to the photog-
rapher and nodded. The bulb flashed. The newsman re-
marked that he was satisfied with both poses. But Mrs.
Turner warned him against printing first without submit-
ting it to her for approval. That he promised to do.
Next Mrs. Turner sat Joan on the piano seat, spread her
dress to the right width, had her cross her legs, and raised
the skirt to where it was at once dignified and yet displayed
her shapely legs. She deftly touched Joan's hair, moved her
head, and then nodded to the photographer.
Joan posed for one more picture on the piano seat but
said she had had enough when the photographer asked for
one of her standing in the doorway between the parlor and
the sitting room where the older folks had briefly stopped
drinking to watch Joan pose. To make him understand she
meant what she said, she deliberately walked over to the
record player, turned it on, grabbed the nearest boy, and
started dancing. The other youngsters followed suit with a
bounce and in a moment teen-age swing bedlam reigned


50 FALSE MEASURE
again. Joan passed her mother and the newsman standing
together, and announced above the music, "You two held
up my party long enough. And furthermore, Mr. Newsman,
no interview. Anything you want to know about me you'll
have to get from my dear mother or my darling father."
With that, she and her partner swung on off.
When they reached the other side of the room, Joan
gasped on one of her turns and darted to an opposite corner.
She was sincerely upset because she hadn't previously noticed
tow-headed Ruth sitting alone. Joan pulled her out of the
chair, kissed her, and asked her forgiveness.
"Joan, I know it wasn't intentional," Ruth sympathized.
"It's so crowded and you've been so busy."
Joan gripped Ruth's upper arms and looked at her
squarely. "Why was it necessary for me to send you an en-
graved invitation on a silver platter to come to my party?"
Ruth turned her head and dropped her eyes but couldn't
restrain her tears. "Joan, you seem to have slipped so far
away from me lately. You've become so popular. The pretti-
est girl in the senior class. Your name in the papers. The pic-
tures they took of you, and all these here tonight. In the fall
you're going away to school. I'll never get away to school.
My people don't have that kind of money and, besides, my
father thinks I should go to work and then get married.
That'll be the end of me. I'll be settled here for the rest of
my life." Then, raising her eyes to Joan's face, she let her
tears show unashamed. "I love you, Joan, and want us to be
friends always. I felt so bad when you would drive up in
your father's car and just wave to me and run in the house.
Sometimes I called you as you passed my house and you
would greet me nicely, but keep on going. Do you remember
how we used to skate together? And ride our bicycles? How
we taught each other the latest dance steps?" She dropped
her head on Joan's shoulder. "I can't help it, Joan, it's the
way I feel."
Joan clasped Ruth in her arms. "Let's do a couple of
the dances we used to do. No, first we must go upstairs and
straighten out your face. Nobody has noticed us here in the
corner, with your tears and my near-tears. They're too busy
jitterbugging and my partner's gone off with another


FALSE MEASURE 51
dancer." Ruth forced a smile as Joan pointed him out in
the throes of an intricate step.
By now the youngsters had the living room floor of Mr.
Turner's house echoing as their feet thumped the floor in
time with the groaning swing music. Joan said, "Let's see
if we can get through this crowd." Holding Ruth by the
hand, she snaked their way through the crowd and on up
the stairs.
Joan sat Ruth before her mirror and dabbed tissue at her
eyes and face. Ruth still couldn't hold back her tears. She
lowered her head and tiny droplets trickled to the glass-
topped dressing table, mingling with spilled powder. For
seconds, Joan didn't know what to say. She was really fond
of Ruth, but she had been so busy lately with her senior class
activities that she hadn't had any time for Ruth. She bent
down and put an arm around Ruth's waist, rubbing her
nose across her cheek. "Wherever I go and whatever I do,
we'll always be friends and we'll visit each other and write
to each other. Is that agreed?" Ruth nodded without raising
her head.
Still with her head down, Ruth muttered that her parents
had bought her her first real party dress and she had come
close to not having an opportunity to wear it, and her mother
— here Joan broke in to say that it was certainly a lovely
dress and that she looked exceedingly good in it. Ruth was
not a pretty girl, but she possessed a healthy, attractive face
and a well-formed body that carried her blue satin dress
favorably, although the dress was perhaps too old for her
years.
Joan placed a hand under Ruth's chin and raised her
head. "Listen, my pal," she said with kindness, "let's once
and for all dry up the tears. We must get back downstairs."
Again she went to work on Ruth's face. Suddenly she turned
and stood motionless. Above the music and voices she heard
someone being greeted. It wasn't her aunt from Columbus
who was expected any minute, because the youngsters were
saying "Good evening" and none of them knew her. It
couldn't be another of her friends because the greetings were
restrained and dignified. Teen-agers didn't greet each other
that way at a party. Then she heard Miss Clarke's name.


FALSE MEASURE 53
Between deliberate forkfuls of food the teacher replied,
"Your picture's on the front page, my pretty. One they took
of you at graduation. It's a good one, I think."
Joan excitedly called across the room, "Daddy, daddy,
did you get the evening paper?"
"Yes, Joan, the boy delivered it but I haven't had time
to unfold it. It's in the cupboard in the kitchen, if the
waiters haven't moved it or messed it up."
Joan bounded for the kitchen, bumping into a waiter
coming through the door with a laden tray that only experi-
ence kept him from losing. "Where is that paper!" she de-
manded, directing the question to nobody in particular, her
eyes scanning the kitchen.
"What paper?" asked a busy waiter.
"The evening paper."
"I dunno, lady. I been too busy to be readin'."
To his annoyance, she looked through the mess on the
table where he was working and found the newspaper under
a pile of trays. She broke open the folded paper, and there
she was in all her graduation loveliness, occupying a promi-
nent spot on the front page. She reflected on her image some
moments and remarked out loud, "It is a good photo of me."
The waiter nodded agreement without looking up from
his work. Joan darted from the kitchen, the paper held open
in front of her. The waiter she had run into before shook
his head and said he was glad he wasn't coming through the
door that time.
She went past the older folks and into the living room
where some of the jitterbugs, exhausted, were sitting about
eating. A remnant of die-hards was still dancing. "Look,
kids," Joan invited above the noise, "come see what I've got
in the paper." She stood in the middle of the room and they
crowded around her as she held the paper before her.
Gee, Joan, you sure look good, and And on the front
page too, and You look as good as a movie star, and Who's
Norma Shearer compared to that and Gee whiz! and Hey,
let me see too, and Will you stop pushing? We'll all see it
if you'll wait.
Joan stood calmly holding the paper while her guests
jostled each other for a better view.


54 FALSE MEASURE
Mr. Turner called in from the sitting room, "Say, what
goes on there? Can't we see too?"
Joan handed the paper to one of the boys and com-
manded, "Take it to my father. When they're through, the
rest of you can see it." The boy obeyed. Joan restacked the
records, turned on the record player, and grasped Ruth's
hand. "Come on, my sweet, let's get in our dance. It's getting
late."
Not more than ten bars had been played and Mr. Turner
was still proudly passing around the paper, when the door-
bell rang. "Whoever that is really wants to get in," Joan
laughed, running to the door. She flung it open and there
stood a tall, buxom, white-looking lady, brown-eyed, black-
haired, and hatless, with a wardrobe suitcase resting beside
one leg and a smaller bag beside the other. Joan was on the
verge of saying, "Yes?" when she recognized Aunt Agnes, her
father's sister. She let out a joyful scream, threw her arms
around her aunt's neck, and pulled her in, crying to every-
body, "This is my Aunt Agnes from Columbus, Ohio." Then
to the males, "One of you gentlemen bring in my aunt's
bags."
There was the usual excitement of welcome. Aunt Agnes
commented to her brother, "Why your hair hasn't even
begun to recede. Not thin either, but gray."
"Who ever heard of a barber getting bald?"
Laughter.
"Hold your head down and let me see if you have a half-
dollar in the back." She pulled his head down. "Ummm, no
hair lost there either."
More laughter.
Aunt Agnes was introduced to the guests and was then
settled in an armchair in the sitting room. Joan sat on the
arm rest. She was a little tired, Aunt Agnes said. She had
driven from Columbus alone. If she hadn't stopped over-
night in New York on the last lap and hadn't been delayed
there by the stores and the theatres she would have been in
Springfield much earlier.
Aunt Agnes was a junior high school teacher in the Jim
Crow division of the Columbus public school system. "My


FALSE MEASURE 55
aunt teaches in Columbus," Joan said to Miss Clarke, seated
a few feet away.
"Then we have much in common," Miss Clarke replied.
Miss Clarke would have taken her for a white person. The
same held for most of the others in the room, she remarked
to herself, glancing around. They were refined and well-
mannered, the same as middle- and upper-class whites.
Miss Clarke and Aunt Agnes got into a discussion of
pedagogy as practiced in the two cities. Joan commented
occasionally, "Is that so?" or "Really!"
The guests began to leave. Joan thanked everyone for
having come. Finally, all had gone but Miss Clarke who was
still talking methodology, school facilities, and the like with
Aunt Agnes. At Mr. Turner's urging, Miss Clarke consented
to have a highball. Mrs. Turner suggested that Joan join
in with a glass of wine but Joan poutingly demurred. Her
father winked as she exchanged some words with her mother
as to her grownup age and the fact that she was now a high
school graduate and perfectly capable of "carrying" one
strong drink. "Didn't I have one this afternoon?" she
pleaded.
"Yes, and it put you right to sleep," her mother retorted.
Mr. Turner slyly fixed Joan a stiff ginger ale highball. The
toast was to Joan and her future academic success.
As she said goodbye to Joan in the doorway with the
family gathered close around, Miss Clarke said, "Write to
me often. I'm going to tell the dean you're coming and to
keep an eye on you. I know you'll do well, though. You're
supposed to." They embraced and she went to her car, all
of them standing in the doorway until the starter rattled,
the motor fired, and she pulled away waving a last good night.
So this was Columbus. Joan didn't like the town. Too
much segregation and discrimination which she knew about
as some faraway something but hadn't experienced person-
ally. In Springfield it didn't exist for her and in her previous
travels with her parents she had toured the Northeast and
Canada, but never farther south than New York City. There-


56 FALSE MEASURE
fore she hadn't met it. Her father had said flatly he'd never
go south again to visit his relatives. He couldn't stomach
Jim Crow. If his relatives wanted to see him they could come
north and he'd welcome them, but they wouldn't see him if
they stayed down there waiting for him to visit them. The
Turners, traveling in strange areas as a family unit alone,
never met accommodation problems, due to their Nordic
appearance; however, a good many of their friends were
Negroid in appearance and the Turners, in visiting com-
munities in which segregation prevailed, would be subjected
to the same restrictions as their darker accompanying friends
in their friends' home town. Yet if they went out alone in
these same communities, they would be as courteously and
obligingly treated as any other strangers. The Turners were
not interested in "passing" on any long-term or permanent
basis, but it was certainly convenient to walk into any restau-
rant when you were hungry and be fed, to stop at any road-
side stall when you were thirsty and get a soda or beer on a
hot summer's day, and to pull up at any hotel after a long
day's drive and not be insultingly turned away because your
skin was too dark.
Agnes Breckinridge, n£e Turner, had brought her niece
back to Columbus for a summer visit after spending two
weeks in Springfield with her brother and sister-in-law,
whom she hadn't seen for six years. It had been necessary
for Joan's Aunt Agnes to return to Columbus so soon, even
though her school was closed, because she was also a business-
woman, and a competent one. Without previous warning,
John Breckinridge had suddenly succumbed after a massive
cerebral hemorrhage two years before. With the demise of
Prohibition he had opened Columbus' most fashionable
restaurant and bar for gentlemen and ladies of color. It had
a shiny front, draw curtains, and blinds. The d&or was
conservatively elaborate, with white-clothed tables, a circular
bar with contrastingly colored high stools, and was much
mirrored. His place was for the best, exclusively, and he
meant that. During open hours he kept a well-dressed man
on the floor with his eyes always on the door to usher out,
by force if necessary, any characters whose appearance and
deportment didn't measure up to the standards set for his


FALSE MEASURE 57
place. John's place prospered. With Columbus' discrimi-
nation, there was almost no other place for upper-class Ne-
groes to go for an evening out. There were one or two ad-
ditional places where decent Negroes could go, but the
atmosphere was far below that of John's place. His place
might have been smaller than the finest white restaurants
in town, but it was unquestionably no less exquisite than the
best.
Though Aunt Agnes had no previous business experience,
after her husband's death she retained her teaching job and
assumed management of the restaurant. What she didn't
know, she asked or dug out herself. She trained one of her
husband's newer employees and made him manager when-
ever she herself wasn't present. Her home — a three-story
building with two floors rented out — was paid for, and
within less than two years she paid off the mortgage on the
taxpayer where they had the restaurant. Now it was clear
sailing and business was good. What else could it be? Those
who wanted the best either came to her place or they didn't
go out.
Joan and Aunt Agnes stayed overnight in New York City
the first night out as a concession to Joan. Their hotel was
the Sherry-Netherland, exactly as Joan wanted. The next
day they spent shopping. Joan knew of all the better Fifth
Avenue and Madison Avenue stores and she wanted to look
around in them whether she bought anything or not.
Aunt Agnes, with her round, jolly face with the tiny
mouth, pampered the niece she hadn't seen for six years. She
promised to buy Joan a suit or dress at any store Joan chose
even though at Joan's direction she had sent her two suits
and a dress for graduation presents. Joan led her aunt
straight to Tailored Woman for a suit and then inveigled
her into paying for a dress at Bergdorf Goodman.
"This is fun," thought Joan. On previous trips to New
York with her parents they had always stayed with friends
and it was always the spare room or the day bed. And she
had never been able to get to those fashionable stores she'd
read so much about in Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, and Made-
moiselle.
"Do you have to be the best-dressed girl in Smith's fresh-


58 FALSE MEASURE
man class?" Aunt Agnes asked jokingly. "Your father and
mother bought you more new clothes than you could ever
carry for this trip. Your Uncle Henry in Atlanta sent you
that diamond-studded watch and you had an assortment of
new hats and shoes that you had to leave behind. What else
in this world could you possibly want!" She laughed. "Let's
get out of this town before you bankrupt me I Your father
tells me he made a good driver out of you. We'll leave early
in the morning. With the two of us alternating, we can be
in Columbus around midnight."
At little gatherings Aunt Agnes arranged for Joan during
her visit, she made certain that her niece became acquainted
with the right girls and boys her age. Joan soon found out
that the young men couldn't take her to the downtown
movies and they couldn't drink sodas in the drugstores or
have lunch or a sandwich in any Columbus restaurants. She
complained to her aunt about it. "Well, it's something you'll
have to get used to and adjust to here," Aunt Agnes ex-
plained. "There are two colored neighborhood theaters you
can go to and there's that colored drugstore if you should
want some ice cream. Of course, if you go out alone or with
someone who looks like you, you can go anywhere else you
want to."
"But this is Ohio, not the South," Joan said.
"Yes, I know," sighed her aunt. "I've been living through
this for almost twenty years. We've made some advances and
got some things corrected but the authorities seem to move
so painfully slowly."
Joan struck up a warm friendship with a girl named
Prudence, who had also just finished high school and was
entering Fisk University, in Nashville, in the fall. Prudence
"looked like" Joan and the two spent their time in establish-
ments verboten to people obviously colored. There were a
number of young men in Columbus' upper-class group who
were light-skinned but not quite light enough, and there
were several girls who were fair, but only three or four in
their set were absolutely undetectable as Negroes, so usually
Prudence and Joan made their sorties downtown un-
accompanied by others. At the frequent teen-age gatherings,


FALSE MEASURE 59
to the amusement of the others, they would relate where
they had been and the gracious service rendered them.
In the middle of August, over Aunt Agnes' protests Joan
insisted that she must get home and use the next three weeks
preparing for school. Her "preparing" meant more shop-
ping. Aunt Agnes put her in a roomette on the Pennsy and
cautioned her not to spend too much time in New York,
where she had to change trains. Joan had wheedled money
from her darling aunt for another dress and some small
articles; hence, she pointed out, she would have to be in
New York long enough to make those purchases.
"I'm going to call Springfield tomorrow night at the time
you ought to have gotten there and verify it. I'm wiring your
mother that you're leaving as soon as this train pulls out."
Aunt Agnes tipped the porter liberally and admonished him
to take good care of her niece. She embraced Joan and then
turned to the teen-agers crowding the roomette and scattered
in the corridor of the car and said good-naturedly, "You
youngsters get off this train that's about to move." The
porter smilingly concurred.


In the anteroom the secretary's typewriter had been going
tic, tic, tic for several minutes now and Joan was sitting
nervously kicking her crossed leg. At length she went over
to the secretary and asked, "What on earth does Dean Fergu-
son want to see me for?"
"Search me," the secretary replied without looking up.
"You wrote me the note I found in my box so maybe
you ought to know something about it," Joan said.
Still without looking up, the secretary said, "Miss Fergu-
son directed me to send you a note to come over here this
morning and I did. She's not in the habit of telling me why
she wishes to talk to students."
"Well, I'm missing a class." Joan stalked back to her
seat.
"If you're at the dean's office I'd think you shouldn't be
concerned about missing a class," the secretary answered
again without raising her eyes. Joan gave her a daggered
look and resumed kicking her leg, books precariously bal-
anced on her lap.
After what seemed like hours, Dean Ferguson appeared
at her office door, seeing out a professor with whom she'd
been in conference. The professor, squeezing his brief case
too high under his arm, and with a funny walk all students
think professors have, nodded to Joan as he passed. To the
dean's engaging "Come in, Miss Turner," Joan entered the
inner sanctum and the door closed behind them.
Joan was motioned to a seat at the end of the desk. Dean
Ferguson swung her swivel chair to face Joan. Any student
who had committed a breach and was sent for by a dean or a
president or a head of a department or similar official was
generally given this combination question and statement,
"I suppose you are cognizant of my reason for sending for
you," or a variation thereof. Since Joan had committed no
60


FALSE MEASURE 61
breach, the opening question was, "I suppose, Miss Turner,
you wondered why I sent for you?"
"Yes, Miss Ferguson, I did."
She laughed. "Don't worry. There's nothing wrong." She
paused, throwing back her head with the well-groomed,
mixed-gray, bobbed hair. "During the summer," Dean
Ferguson continued, "I received a long letter from an old
friend and former classmate. Among many other things, she
introduced me to you. She said she had taught you, that you
are very intelligent, that you were very popular in high
school, and that you are very pretty. She was right in
everything that she said about you
"You must be talking about Miss Clarke. I'm very fond
of her."
"And she's very fond of you. Purposefully, I didn't send
for you right after your arrival on the campus, as Anne asked
me to, because I felt it would be better for you to get your
bearings on your own. However, having been made curious,
I watched your activities. I see you are a member of the dra-
ma club and the debating society, and you were elected presi-
dent of the freshman class. In the various social committees
you have been very active too. Although it hasn't yet been
officially announced — I'm giving you some advance in-
formation — your academic standing is such that you've
made the Dean's List. Anne said you would make a name
for yourself here. Keep up the good work!"
"Thank you, Miss Ferguson. I'll try," Joan said through
an appreciative smile.
The dean scribbled on a pad. "Take this and hurry to
your next class. I know you're late."
They shook hands and she saw Joan to the door. Joan ran
across the campus on air.
Joan was sauntering across the campus. She had a two-
hour break before her first afternoon class. She halted and
turned in response to "Joan, Joan, wait a minute!" It was
her roommate, Adrienne, and she caught up with Joan, puff-
ing. "What in the world did Dean Ferguson want with you
this morning?" she asked. "About what did she talk?"


62 FALSE MEASURE
"About me."
"What about you?"
"Oh, nothing of any importance."
"Listen, my dear," Adrienne implored, "please don't keep
any secrets from me. We're roommates and the best of
friends." Linking arms, they started toward their dormitory.
Joan delayed her reply and as she was on the verge of an-
swering, two girls hailed her from the other side of the
campus with, "Joan, how about the three of us going riding
tomorrow morning?"
Joan thought a second. It was Friday and she hadn't made
any plans for the weekend. She called back her acceptance.
"Fine, we'll wake you at eight."
Joan and Adrienne reached the steps of their dorm and
Joan was hailed again. This time she was reminded she had
promised to attend a social given by the sophomore class on
Saturday. Freshmen weren't often invited to sophomore af-
fairs. On reaching the stoop, Joan was stopped by three girls
on the walk below who called her attention to the fact that
her presence would be expected at a Sunday afternoon social.
"Will you be on the campus?" they anxiously asked.
"There'll be some parents and visitors there," they added.
"I think I'll be on the campus, and if so, I'll be there,"
said Joan, and she and Adrienne entered the door.
Joan's and Adrienne's room was no different from most
at Smith. It was a large second-floor front room with two
casement windows. There were two single beds with char-
treuse spreads and matching window drapes. The wallpaper
was yellow and green. Each girl had a good-sized desk with
a study lamp and an upholstered armchair with a reading
lamp beside it. There were hassocks, the inevitable combina-
tion radio-and-record player with a pile of records stacked
on the floor near it, pictures of their favorite male movie
stars on the walls, their family favorites and their current
heart-throbs framed on their desks. Adrienne's family favor-
ites were her father and her brother. Joan's were her father,
mother, and Aunt Agnes.
The girls dropped their books on littered desks. They
opened the windows. It was a warm, sunny day in late May.
They threw themselves across their beds, face down, arms


FALSE MEASURE 63
folded under their chins, heels kicking in the air. "Now,
again, tell me what the dean wanted you for this morning,"
Adrienne asked.
"Oh, that! I thought you had forgotten that."
"No chance."
"Well," Joan began slowly, "Dean Ferguson told me that
she was a classmate of a former teacher of mine in Spring-
field, Anne Clarke, and Miss Clarke had written to her be-
fore school opened telling her I was coming here and that
she had expected me to do well."
"You certainly have!" Adrienne interposed.
Joan continued on as though Adrienne hadn't spoken.
"Miss Ferguson said she deliberately didn't single me out for
a personal talk earlier, as Miss Clarke had asked, because
she wanted me to be on my own as other girls here are. Of
course she addressed the whole class the first week and sev-
eral times since, giving general advice and guidance, as you
know because you were always there yourself. I got a good
impression of her. Didn't you?"
"Yes, I think she's awfully sweet. And brilliant, too.
What else did she say?"
"Well, she said she'd noted my several campus activities
and that my marks have been good. She told me to keep up
the good work. That's about all there was to it."
"Gee, Joan, you're such a good student and . . . ." She was
interrupted by two girls calling Joan from the walk below.
Joan stuck her head out of the window. They asked her if
she would drive to town with them for dinner, the movies,
and afterward that small roadhouse where they had that
new quartet. Joan replied that she had some personal things
to do early in the evening and then was eating on the campus.
However, if they would wait until after dinner she would
gladly join them. They agreed.
"We'll leave at eight then?" said Joan.
"Right here in front of your dorm," they said as they
went on.
Joan jumped back on her bed and into her former posi-
tion. Adrienne had been thoughtfully watching and listening
while Joan was at the window. She knew who the girls were
by their voices, but she hadn't gone to the window because


64 FALSE MEASURE
they hadn't invited her, though they knew she was Joan's
roommate and was probably right there in the room at that
moment. The way Joan and the girls had greeted each other,
their cheerful laughter, their exchanges,* were all so free
and genuine and happy. They were fond of each other and
liked to be with each other. Joan left the window and went
back to her bed, Adrienne's eyes following her every step of
the way.
After several moments' silence, Joan asked, "What are
you so quiet about now?"
Adrienne sighed. "I'll finish the sentence I started when
you were called to the window. Maybe I'll say more. If I get
wound up I will. If I don't I won't and will save it for some
other time."
Joan had a questioning frown on her forehead.
Adrienne shifted her position in order to look more di-
rectly at her. She continued, "You're so smart, Joan, so pretty,
and you're so popular. I guess I'm just plain envious, that's
all. Don't misunderstand that last statement, though. After
sharing a room with you for almost a year we've gotten to
know each other so well I've fallen in love with you — not
in a homosexual sense — but in the sense that I consider
you more than a mere friend. I don't see how anybody
could be around you any length of time and not fall in love
with you. I suppose 1 consider myself envious of you because
I wish I could make the marks that you make, I wish my
face looked as good as yours, I wish I had a body that could
wear clothes as yours can, and I wish I had your personality."
Joan didn't know exactly what to say or how to say it.
"Why, Adrienne, in all the months we've been together
you've never done one single small thing to make me think
you were envious of me."
"Oh, I don't mean envious in a malicious sense. I know
/ couldn't, and I don't believe anybody could bring herself
to do anything petty to annoy or harm you in any way. You'd
disarm them with your personality."
Joan was at a loss. She had noticed that Adrienne didn't
go out as often as she should and she was seldom specifically
sought after. But she hadn't thought it had affected Adrienne
to this extent. Maybe if she, Adrienne, had a roommate who


FALSE MEASURE 65
wasn't so active and always on the go, it would be better.
With her, Joan, she was comparing too much and perhaps
feeling sorry for herself. Joan resolved to listen and say little
or nothing.
"Oh, I know I'm not bad looking," Adrienne said. "I
have a pretty good figure and have enough clothes and they
look all right on me. I'm not Phi Beta Kappa material and
far from it, but I'll manage to pass all the courses and get
my sheepskin. My personality must be negative. I know I'm
no introvert because I do like to be around people. I like to
dance, bicycle in groups, swim, and do everything everybody
else does, but I'm just not included in things as often as I
ought to be. Is it that I'm too cold? Am I disliked? What do
they say about me? Do they think I'm a snob? No, it couldn't
be that because there're so many here who're in the Social
Register and their parents have more money than mine
would have if they lived to be a thousand years old. Tell me,
Joan, what is it?"
"Adrienne, dear, I haven't heard a single person on this
campus make an unfavorable remark about you. And I
haven't heard anyone say that someone else said something
unfavorable. As to your being cold or aloof, I've never
thought so."
"Do you know, Joan, what hurts me most? When we're
out on the campus or in the dining hall together, girls will
stop you and talk to you about going here or there, this place
or that place, driving, swimming, playing tennis, riding,
movies, roadhouses, and no one would even think I was pres-
ent. They say hello — and then they go on laughing and
talking with you, making their private arrangements in-
cluding me out. Some have even come up here in this room
with that attitude. Some who think they are campus glamor
girls. I imagine half the members in our class know me
as Joan's roommate and don't even know my name. Is there
anybody in the whole school who doesn't know your name?
Oh, I know, you're going to say I should join the drama club
or the art club or some other silly club and get in some other
activities, but I just don't feel like it."
"It might help your ego if you did," said Joan. "And you
would get to know some of the girls better and they would


66 FALSE MEASURE
get to know you." Glancing at her watch, Joan jumped off
the bed. "For some reason, unknown to me, you're excess-
ively depressed today. Let's cut out this talk and go eat.
We'll barely have time before next class." She pulled Adri-
enne off the bed and halfway down the stairs, before she
remembered they'd better take their books for the next
class. Back up the stairs they went, grabbed their books and
were off again, with Joan still hurrying Adrienne.
The Richmond Baskervilles cut an important figure in
their own bailiwick. They weren't Social Register material,
but they held their own in this former Confederate strong-
hold. There were essential Confederate officer ancestors, in-
cluding a general. Mrs. Baskerville was a member of the
Daughters of the Confederacy and had made the right con-
tacts, she thought, for admission to the Daughters of the
American Revolution. For some reason, approval of her ap-
plication had been delayed aeons. After all, hadn't she been
president of the Richmond chapter of the Daughters of the
Confederacy? And some of them were members of the D.A.R.
Anyway, she'd wait a while longer and see.
Mr. Baskerville was president of one of Richmond's
medium-sized, independent, steel fabricating plants. The
factory had been founded by his grandfather and two others
on their return from doing battle with the Yankees. He was
president of the board of education and was connected with
civic and charitable organizations. In a restricted section,
the family lived in a three-story colonial house with tall,
white pillars. It was set back from the street and surrounded
by a spacious lawn. There were three Negro servants. Mr.
Baskerville had inherited the house and one of the servants
from his father. This oldest servant was the son of one of his
father's deceased servants.
Adrienne prepared for college at an exclusive girls' school
in suburban Richmond. Mrs. Baskerville had wanted Adri-
enne to go to Sweetbriar, but Mr. Baskerville wanted her to
get a Northern finish and polish. "After all," he said, "we
Southerners may think we're hot stuff, but it's the North


FALSE MEASURE 67
where standards are set, and New England at that." So Adri-
enne went to Smith. Julius, her brother, likewise prepared
at a private school. "There'll be no University of Virginia
for him," said Mr. Baskerville. So he went to Dartmouth
and had been there two years when Adrienne started at
Smith.
Adrienne had registered, been assigned her room, and
was hanging her clothes in one of the walk-in closets, when
Joan came puffing up the stairs and into the room carrying
two bags, her father behind her with two larger ones, and a
porter grunting under the weight of one wardrobe trunk to
be followed by another. The two girls greeted each other
with a smiling "Hello," after Joan had dropped her bags.
They sized each other up with a quick glance from head to
foot and then exchanged names and shook hands. Mr. Turn-
er stood holding the bags while one said, "I'm Joan Turner
from Springfield, Mass," and the other said, "I'm Adrienne
Baskerville from Richmond, Virginia."
Mr. Turner broke in to ask, "Joan, where do you want
these heavy bags?"
The porter in the doorway, the trunk still on his back,
said, "Lady, where do you want this trunk?"
"Over there by the wall and put the other one downstairs
beside it. Daddy, drop the bags where you are. I'll move
them later."
Joan looked around the room, checking the size of the
closets, the chest of drawers, the view from the windows. She
sat down at one of the two desks to get the feel of it. Adri-
enne had been observing and occasionally they swapped a
remark as to the color of the wallpaper, closet space, or the
view. "Oh, I forgot," Joan said. "You haven't met my father,
Adrienne." Adrienne walked over to him with outstretched
hand.
"You girls should be comfortable and happy here," Mr.
Turner said. "The campus and the buildings are beautiful
and you have the latest conveniences."
"Where's the bath?" Joan asked.
"Down the hall to your left," answered Adrienne.


68 FALSE MEASURE
"Wait, Daddy, while I go look at it," said Joan and
rushed off. She returned and her father said, "How was it?"
"Modern and up-to-date, full of private showers," said
Joan.
Mr. Turner said he'd better be leaving now that Joan
was settled. It would be a good two-hour drive back to
Springfield and he didn't want to start too late. He hadn't
expected it to take as long as it did for Joan to register and
be assigned her room but there were many ahead of her. He
had told Mrs. Turner he'd be back by mid-afternoon and it
was then five o'clock.
"I knew I'd better get here early in the morning to avoid
the ordeal of waiting hours to get registered," said Adrienne,
"so I got here last night, stayed at a hotel in town, and was
in the office to register at eight when they opened. You
wouldn't think so, though," she laughed. "I've been five
hours trying to get my things put away and the more I do
the worse the place looks."
Joan smiled and looked at clothing hanging out of half-
open bureau drawers, scattered over her bed; a mixture of
shoes, hats, dresses, and undergarments spilled over from
her open bags onto the floor and under the bed.
With a handshake, Mr. Turner bade Adrienne goodbye
and good luck. Joan, swinging on her father's arm to see him
to his car, said, "I'll be back in a few minutes, Adrienne,
and I'll be having your problems." At the head of the stairs
they were halted by the porter stumbling up with Joan's
second trunk.
At the car, Mr. Turner gave Joan last-minute instruc-
tions. "By all means write to your mother often. She'll be
worried if you don't. I think you're grown enough to take
good care of yourself, but she still thinks of you as a little
girl."
There hadn't been any room for Mrs. Turner to make
the trip. The entire back of the car was filled with Joan's
luggage and boxes. Her two trunks had been forwarded by
rail. Mrs. Turner cried when she told Joan goodbye.
"After I drive off, call your mother and tell her you're
safely here and tell her I'm on my way home."


FALSE MEASURE 69
"Okay, daddy, bye bye," and she watched the car until
it was out of sight.
Mr. Turner mused to himself as he rolled down the
highway at a good clip. Of course that Virginia roommate of
Joan's didn't have the slightest inkling that Joan was col-
ored. Knowing the South as he did, having been born and
raised there, he knew what that cracker girl's reaction would
be when she found out Joan was colored. Joan wouldn't
hide it, but it just might not come to light for some time.
Joan hadn't even thought about it. She was like that. To her,
Adrienne was merely another girl. Joan would be able to
handle her when Adrienne learned it, and he knew she sure-
ly would, and soon. He intentionally did not mention his
thoughts to Joan as they walked to the car because Joan
might have gotten the impulse to go right back and tell her
she was colored and cause confusion and a stink, spoiling
Joan's first night. But the main reason he said nothing was
because he wanted that Southern girl to have close contact
with his Joan so she could learn how much more cultured
and ladylike Joan was, and undoubtedly smarter too. The
only Negroes she had ever come in contact with before, he
knew, would have been her ignorant servants. It would do
her good to get to know somebody like Joan. He laughed out
loud and mashed down on the accelerator. He had to get
home and tell Mrs. Turner. This was going to be good!
Adrienne and Joan got along famously from the start.
When Joan returned to her room she looked at her two
trunks, her bags, and hat boxes, and decided that maybe they
ought to eat first and then get at their unpacking with zest.
Adrienne was all for it, and they would help each other ar-
range their things. Yes, of course. (A good way to learn the
other's possessions, each thought.) Off they went to the din-
ing room.
Adrienne was Joan's height but much more slender; too
slender, Joan thought. Her hair was brown, worn in a medi-
um bob with hairdresser waves. Her sharp-featured face was
thinner than it should have been. She wore bangs that came
down to her light brown eyes. Her figure was passable and
her tailor and dressmaker had been benign to it. Adrienne
had eyed Joan minutely. She thought Joan had the pret-


70 FALSE MEASURE
tiest hair and face she had seen for a long time. She told
Joan how beautiful her hair was, but said nothing about her
face. She also thought, "That figure she has!" But she didn't
mention it. Joan was conscious of the fact that she had Adri-
enne bested in all aesthetic areas.
In their room after dinner they managed to get every-
thing put away, although they realized it would take them
several days to get things properly arranged. Next, they
shoved their beds to new positions and moved their chests
of drawers and the desks and the armchairs and their trunks,
chattering and giggling as they worked. Exhausted, they
were satisfied, as they sat on their beds and surveyed the
room. Their eyes wandered to the drapes and bedspreads.
They must be changed. They agreed on the color. At the
first opportunity they'd go to town together and jointly pur-
chase more suitable ones. Adrienne said, "We seem to be
so much in accord when it comes to colors and materials and
arrangements. And viewing your wardrobe, I would have
selected the same garments with little variance."
"Yes," Joan agreed. "We could wear each other's clothes
if we were the same size. The materials and styles in your
wardrobe, with slight modifications, would suit me per-
fectly."
Lying in their beds after their showers, having a last
cigarette, Joan said, "There's something missing here."
"What?" asked Adrienne.
"A combination."
"Yes, that is right, we don't have any music."
"I tell you what," Joan said, rising on one elbow. "My
mother is jealous of my father's trip up here today without
her. The car was too crowded to bring her. So I know she'll
insist on daddy's bringing her up here within a month. I'll
tell her to bring my record player and some of my records."
"Fine. I'll buy a little portable radio to tide us over until
then."
As Joan was mashing out her cigarette, Adrienne said,
"You're going to be a good roommate, Joan."
"I think you will too."
They flicked out their lights and sleepily mumbled good
night.


FALSE MEASURE 71
For the first week or two Joan and Adrienne were in-
separable during the day because they had several classes
together and in the evenings they would study together. Also,
they got new drapes with matching bedspreads and Adrienne
had bought the temporary portable. They picked stations
that played the latest swing music. In their room they'd
dance together. Joan, who always led, found that Adrienne
knew only the conventional two-step, fox-trot, and waltz —
dancing-school style, without rhythm. She set out to teach
her how to jitterbug and she was fairly successful.
Joan began to take part in extracurricular activities and
girls began to seek her out. Her time with Adrienne, out-
side of study hours and mealtimes, became less and less. Adri-
enne said she wasn't interested in all those extracurricular
activities and was content to rest after classes. Joan would
study during free time in the morning, afternoon, and early
evening, and then go dashing off to her clubs and committees.
Doris Henderson, from Evanston, lived on the third
floor. She became attached to Joan. They sat side by side in
some classes and joined the drama club together. She was a
tall, well-rounded, well-groomed, and attractive blonde from
one of Chicago's first families. She was frequently at their
door seeking Joan. If Joan wasn't in, she'd go on. Adrienne
didn't like Doris. "Who the hell does she think she is?" Adri-
enne would ask, not expecting an answer from Joan. "Noth-
ing but one of those so-called Midwest society belles, hav-
ing come to Smith to take the campus by storm." Then she'd
give the Southern version of the Bronx cheer. Joan would
say nothing. She liked Doris.
In the adjoining dormitory there was Edwina Laurence,
the good-looking brunette from Bangor, who early became
fond of Joan and was often at their door looking for her.
She, too, would pass on if Adrienne said, "No, she's not in.
Don't know where she is. I'll tell her you were here." If Joan
were in, the girls would stay to prattle and sometimes dance.
And practically all knew the latest steps. They would draw
Adrienne into their dancing and talking sometimes.
Once Doris asked Joan, "What's the matter with that
Richmond magnolia bitch you live with who has the exag-


72 FALSE MEASURE
gerated Southern drawl? Is she an example of a Southern
belle?"
Edwina had said, "How did you ever happen to draw
her for a roommate? She gives me a pain where I shouldn't
have one."
Joan always answered, "She's a good kid when you get to
know her." She never passed these remarks on to Adrienne.
She was sorry though; she liked Adrienne.
The day before the Thanksgiving holidays Mr. and Mrs.
Turner came up and brought Joan's many-times-requested
combination and about a hundred records Mr. Turner
packed neatly in a specially made box. They were going to
drive her back home for the holidays. They arrived at a
quarter past four, minutes after Joan's last class. Dr. and
Mrs. Frederick Williams, Springfield friends, had come along
for the ride. Although light in complexion, they were patent-
ly colored.
Adrienne was in slacks, sprawled out in her armchair
reading, when Mr. Turner tapped on the frame of the open
door and asked for Joan. Adrienne remembered him imme-
diately, jumped up, and ran over to shake hands. He in-
troduced her to Mrs. Turner having first had to ask her to
give him her last name which he had forgotten.
"Where's Joan?" he asked.
"She's showering and will be right in. Won't you come in
and have a seat?"
The Turners moved into the room and the Williamses,
not yet noticed by Adrienne, stepped in. She lost the smile
on her face and was about to say, "What do you want?"
when Mr. Turner, sitting on the side of Joan's bed, said,
"Come on, Fred, sit beside me, my wife can sit in the arm-
chair, and yours can sit at the desk."
Adrienne was frozen, aghast at the easy entrance of the
Williamses. She couldn't get her mouth closed and no words
would come out. Standing rigidly a few feet from them, her
eyes went from the Turners to the Williamses, from the Wil-
liamses to the Turners, and back again. She noted they all
called each other by their first names, so they must be close
friends.
Mr. Turner immediately perceived Adrienne's conster-


FALSE MEASURE 73
nation. She hadn't yet learned about Joan, he was certain
now. He spoke up to relieve Adrienne's bewilderment. "Miss
Baskerville, I want you to meet Joan's godfather and god-
mother, Dr. and Mrs. Williams."
This only added to her confusion. Dr. Williams stood up
and took a couple of steps toward her and offered his hand.
Without changing her expression, and by some particularly
strong inner impulse, she managed to raise her arm halfway.
Dr. Williams grasped a cold, inflexible hand and sat down.
Mrs. Williams had simply nodded and smiled. Adrienne was
unable to bring herself to acknowledge the introductions in
the conventional manner. Outside of the servants, for the
first time she had knowingly shaken hands with a Negro.
Mrs. Turner, also conscious of Adrienne's disconcertion
and the reason for it, smiled indulgently and asked her if
she would go hurry up Joan. Adrienne somehow got out a
"Yes," snapped herself from her stiffened position and ran
from the room, her face white and expressionless.
When she had gone, Dr. Williams asked, "What's the
matter with her?"
Mr. and Mrs. Turner smiled and Mr. Turner said,
"We'll tell you later."
Adrienne didn't go to hurry Joan from the shower. She
ran to the stairs and started up. Then she turned around
and started down. Where she was going she didn't know. She
just wanted to get away from that room. On the landing
she stopped short when this thought struck her: if Joan had
colored godparents then she must be colored too. And her
parents!
"Well, I will be goddamned," she muttered. Holding the
railing, she was inching her way down when Doris Hender-
son rushed in the building to get ready to leave for the holi-
day weekend.
Doris took one look at her and said, "What's wrong with
you? Your face is as white as a ghost's. You look like you
either lost your best friend or your boy friend quit you."
Doris was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up
at Adrienne. Adrienne didn't answer but continued on down
slowly with Doris watching her with an inquisitive frown.


74 FALSE MEASURE
When she reached the bottom step she fell over on Doris*
shoulder and burst into tears.
Doris, who was a sympathetic and good-natured soul, put
an arm around her. "There, there, now. It can't be that
bad. Tell me what it's all about and maybe I can help. I've
got to catch a train, but come on up to my room and while
I'm bustling about packing, you can tell me what's on your
mind." With her arm around Adrienne's waist, she started
up the stairs with her. Tears were streaming and Adrienne
emitted an occasional quiet sob, followed by a pat and a
"There, there, now," from Doris. Sitting beside Adrienne
on the arm of the chair, Doris took her handkerchief and
dried Adrienne's face. "Cut the sob stuff now, and tell me
what it's all about."
Between sniffles Adrienne told Doris how she had just
learned Joan was colored. Doris listened attentively until she
finished. Then she stood up abruptly, her hands on her hips.
"So what? Is that all that's causing this emotional outburst?
Anyone would think your world had come to an end. Do you
know of any finer girl on this campus? Do you?"
Adrienne shook her head, sniffled. "But
"But nothing," Doris cut her off. "She's one of the finest,
if not the finest here. Pull yourself together. I've got to dress
and pack." Doris pulled open a drawer and paused, thinking.
She'd go downstairs to say goodbye to Joan and meet her
folks.
Joan came rushing in from the shower, her face corus-
cating at the sight of her parents and the Williamses. She
kissed them all and said she'd expected to have been dressed
by the time they got there. She snatched her underthings
and dress and to get them on, shielded herself from view
behind an open closet door. "Where's Adrienne?" she asked.
"I left her here reading when I went to shower."
Mrs. Turner said, "She was here and we thought she had
gone to announce our arrival."
"Joan, Joan," someone called at the door and stepped
into the room. A tall blonde gave a cheery "Good evening"
to the visitors and asked where Joan was. Joan called from
behind the door, "Hi, Doris, I'm here. Wait till I get this


FALSE MEASURE 75
dress over my head. Introduce yourself to my father and
mother and Dr. and Mrs. Williams, my godparents."
Doris shook hands with each and took a seat beside Dr.
Williams. She told them where she was from, how much fun
she and Joan had together, and what a sweet girl Joan was.
Joan emerged and went to the mirror to arrange her
hair and make-up. "I thought you told me you were going to
New York for the weekend?"
"I am if I don't miss the five o'clock train. There won't
be another tonight."
"Well, you'd better hurry," warned Joan.
"I suppose I could take a bus, but I hate that ride. I've
still got to pack and dress, so making that train almost bor-
ders on the impossible."
"I tell you what," Joan said, "ride with us to Springfield
where you can get a train coming through from Boston
nearly every hour. Is that all right, daddy?"
"Sure, if you girls don't mind being crowded."
"Three in front and three in back and our bags in the
trunk," Joan said.
"Thank you, Mr. Turner," Doris said and stood up to
go get ready.
"Hurry," said Joan, "I'll be ready in a few minutes."
"So will I," rejoined Doris, and to the visitors, "See you
again in a few minutes."
As Doris was leaving the room, Joan asked, "Have you
seen Adrienne? I'd like to tell her goodbye."
Doris dismissed the question. "Oh, she's up in my room
in one of her moods. Just let her stay there and brood."
Doris dressed and packed, and Adrienne sat in the chair,
looking off into space. Dressed, and with her bag in hand,
Doris told her she could sit as long as she wished. She told
her further she was riding as far as Springfield with Joan and
her folks. "What have you planned for the holidays?" she
asked.
"I'm supposed to meet my brother in Boston, but I don't
know whether I will or not," Adrienne sighed as Doris left.
Through the window Adrienne could hear Joan and
Doris engaged in lively conversation interspersed with laugh-
ter joined in by the others when they started across the cam-


76 FALSE MEASURE
pus toward Mr. Turner's car. She went to the window and
watched. Dr. Williams was carrying Doris' bag and at that
moment he was walking beside her and they were enjoying
a laugh together. At intervals, the group was stopped by
girls and there were introductions and handshakes all
around. At one point there were as many as fifteen girls
around them.
Adrienne left the window and started downstairs to her
room. She changed her mind and went back and sat down.
She had better give them plenty of time to get out on the
highway, otherwise Joan might come flying back for a for-
gotten item and she wasn't in any condition to face Joan.
She again seated herself in the armchair and continued to
brood.
Half an hour later Adrienne went down to her room.
Certainly they were far out on the highway by now. She
wended her way directly to her mirror and turned on the
light. She studied her face and run her hands over it, making
the flesh taut in successive sections. She looked at her hands,
palms up, then palms down. She pushed up her sleeves and
regarded her arms, running a hand over first one and then
the other. She observed her hair, running her fingers through
it, fluffing it out. Without hairdressers, hers would be flat
and stringy, she knew. She stamped her foot. "Damn, I don't
understand it," shrieked through her mind. She turned from
the mirror and sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows on
knees and chin in hands. She got up and closed the door. She
wanted to be alone with her reflections. She flopped in an
armchair and laid her head back, eyes on the ceiling. "Why,"
she asked herself, "why is it Joan's colored, yet her skin is
whiter than mine and her hair is nicer and she's prettier than
I am — prettier than anybody I know? And her figure and
the way she wears her clothes! Why didn't Joan tell me
this? Why did I have to find this out this way? Why did she
hide it from me?"
With this realization she sat upright: "But she couldn't
have been deliberately trying to deceive me. She told me her
parents and some family friends were coming to drive her
home today. She knew what the family friends looked like
and that I would be here when they came. Now I know why,


FALSE MEASURE 77
although I didn't ask her why, she turned down my invita-
tion to visit me Christmas with the terse remark that she
didn't like my part of the country. She suggested that I leave
Richmond early and spend New Year's with her in Spring-
field. If I hadn't found it out today, gosh, I would have found
it out then. And then I might have acted like a fool and em-
barrassed Joan. And my parents! What would they say if
they learned I left Richmond to visit with a Negro family?"
She thought of Doris' indifference, of Joan's wide popu-
larity, and the more she thought the more confused she be-
came. Some of the girls, also from the South, didn't seem to
mind. But if they didn't know, they knew it now, with Joan
walking across the campus with that not black but obviously
Negro couple. And yet they gathered around Joan as they
always did and graciously accepted introductions to that
Negro couple. And the girls were so friendly to the couple.
And I bet Joan was telling them, 'This is my godfather and
godmother,' with them colored and she looking like a white
princess. Look how indifferent Doris was when I told her.
Riding to Springfield with Joan. I guess she'll tell her how I
acted. Maybe I'm a fool. Maybe I should have known it be-
fore. Gosh, I'm from Richmond, what'll I do? My parents.
My relatives."
Adrienne put on her casual coat and went out on the
campus. When the snappy fall air struck her face, she sensed
she had been perspiring and there were droplets of moisture
on her temples. She wiped them off with the palm of her
hand. Not knowing where she was going, she took the first
path, shoved her hands into her pockets and started walk-
ing with leisured strides. She saw a light in Edwina's room.
Edwina and Joan had become close during these first three
months at school, so she'd go up and ask Edwina if she knew
Joan was colored.
Adrienne found Edwina dressed and packing without
haste. She had her car there and didn't have to rush to make
a train. She was going down to Hartford for the weekend,
she said, and could make it in three hours. "Do you plan to
stay on the campus for the holidays?" she asked Adrienne,
noticing the way she was dressed.
"I'm supposed to meet my brother in Boston but I can't


78 FALSE MEASURE
seem to get myself together," Adrienne answered exhaling
heavily.
"What's the matter with you?" Edwina asked, snapping
shut her bag. "You had the appearance of a wraith when you
walked in here."
"I don't know, Edwina, I guess I'm all mixed up and con-
fused," said Adrienne.
"Well, what confused you?" asked Edwina.
"Please don't think I'm an idiot for asking such a ques-
tion, but did you know Joan is colored?" Adrienne asked
almost plaintively.
"Why, of course I did. Why? And what's your reason for
asking me?"
"Well, I just learned it this afternoon and it upset me.
In a way I guess I'm frustrated. I don't know what to do.
I've been so fond of Joan."
"What do you mean, you don't know what to do?"
snapped Edwina. "What could you do? And what was the
meaning of 'I've been so fond of Joan'? Do you think for one
moment Joan would be at a loss for fondness and friends if
she lost your fondness? If you read the newspapers you
would've known about Joan before she got here. I did. On
the other hand, I guess they wouldn't have printed it in the
papers down where you come from. Well, I'll inform you.
Then I've got to go. She was voted 'Prettiest Girl' in her
graduating class at Springfield High, and believe you me
she deserved it because she's the prettiest thing around here.
She was a brilliant student besides and all the papers in the
Northeast carried her picture and a write-up. Now if you're
confused about Joan, I advise you to draw up in a shell or
leave this school because all of us here love Joan. Now I must
go." She picked up her bag.
Full of remorse, Adrienne said, "There's something I'd
like to ask you," and continued on without waiting for Ed-
wina to ask what it was. "Please don't tell Joan I've had this
talk with you. I really don't want to lose her friendship. It's
just that I was raised under such a — I realize now — crazy
code. If others can break away from it — and there are many
here who have — I guess I can too."
"Listen, little Southern belle," Edwina interrupted,


FALSE MEASURE 79
"you're not in the Confederacy and you'll find no sympathy
here for your code, not as it regards Joan, anyway. No, I
won't say anything to Joan. Now let's go, I've got a long
drive ahead of me."
As they left the dormitory, Adrienne said, "When Joan
comes back, I won't say a word to her about this and I hope
we can go on living together as we have up to now. If she
just doesn't find out how silly I've been today!"
"You're in college now, Adrienne, where you're sup-
posed to be learning how to think for yourself. Simply be-
cause you were taught certain things while you were grow-
ing up, it doesn't mean you continue to live by them after
you've found out for yourself that they're wrong. Now good
night, and go on to Boston and enjoy your holiday."
"You're so right, Edwina. Good night, and have a pleas-
ant weekend."
The cumulation of events since her initial shock had all
but erased the traces of her earlier mental ordeal. She ran
to a phone booth and put through a call to Boston. Her
brother hadn't checked in at his hotel. She left a message
for him that she was leaving in the morning and would ar-
rive at noon. She ran across the campus to her dorm. Gee,
the place was empty! On the walks lampposts cast their bare
shadows. Not a soul in sight but the watchman. Almost
everybody had gone. There was only one light burning in
her building and that was in her room. She would be alone
in that big dormitory tonight. Damn, she hadn't eaten din-
ner. Well, it was too late now. She'd make up for it in the
morning. She ran to her room, threw off her coat, and fell
across the bed. She smiled wanly, disgusted and ashamed of
herself for the way she had acted. She did love Joan and
hoped Joan wouldn't find out how she had reacted.
Joan missed the last train to Northampton on Sunday
night after Thanksgiving. She prevailed upon her father to
permit her to drive back to school. She had to leave at six
o'clock to make a nine-o'clock class. Her mother was down-
right opposed to Joan's leaving on such a long drive alone


80 FALSE MEASURE
at such an ungodly hour. She was all but in tears when Mr.
Turner said, "Oh, she'll be okay. Dawn will have broken at
that time and I'll make certain she locks herself in prior to
her starting. Before she gets far out on the highway, the sun
will be up. She's a good driver. I taught her!" And he
winked at Joan as Mrs. Turner stomped up the stairs, say-
ing, "I'm going to bed so's I can get up at half past five and
see to it that at least my daughter gets started safely and on
time."
At daybreak Mrs. Turner too was at the curb when Mr.
Turner confidently slammed the car door shut. Joan was at
the wheel in slacks and her head was kerchiefed. He mo-
tioned to Joan to push down the buttons on the doors and
confidently waved her on. "Get going or you'll be late for
your first class," he shouted. Joan, taking note of her
mother's anxious countenance, called to her above the noise
of the warming-up motor, "Don't worry, mother, I'll be
okay." She blew them an impish kiss and pulled away from
the curb.
It was a quarter past eight when Joan rushed into her
room. With not much traffic on the road she had really cov-
ered those miles. Adrienne was stirring when Joan entered
the room. She threw her arms around Joan's neck, held on,
and kissed her. A little too gushy, Joan subconsciously
thought. Then she presented Joan with a gold bracelet. "I
saw it in Filene's and knew it would look good on you," she
said. Joan thanked her. "It's awfully sweet of you, Adri-
enne." She wondered about this copious demonstration of
affection.
Doris had not mentioned Adrienne's conduct to Joan on
their ride to Springfield and she never did. Neither did Ed-
wina. And Joan's parents and the Williamses thought it bet-
ter not to say anything to her and they never did.
Before the Christmas recess, Adrienne's brother Julius
and a classmate came down for a weekend and stayed at the
guest house. Adrienne and Joan went out with them on
foursomes, Joan with Julius, and he developed a crush on
Joan. After the weekend he wrote Joan several romantic let-
ters which she never took the time to answer. Reading his
letters, she told herself, "He's just a gangling, red-headed


FALSE MEASURE 81
drip and I won't encourage him." It never crossed Adri-
enne's mind to tell him Joan was colored. She thought of it
once while reading one of Julius' letters asking her to tell
Joan to please write and say whether or not she was inter-
ested. Adrienne didn't tell him even then. She didn't know
what his reaction might be. Besides, Joan wasn't the least
bit interested in him anyhow. On his second letter to her,
grumbling about Joan's not answering his, she had off-
handedly asked Joan what she thought of her brother. Joan
had said, "I think he's very sweet and I like him very much."
Adrienne knew she was lying.
Hurrying her dressing this Friday evening in preparation
to meet the two girls on the walk in front of the dormitory,
as she had promised earlier that day, Joan remarked, "I
can't seem to be on time for anything but classes."
"You lead such a busy life," said Adrienne, sitting in an
armchair watching Joan dress.
"Would you care to come with us tonight?" asked Joan.
"No," said Adrienne without hesitation. "You're just
being kind. When they called you to the window to make
arrangements, they would have asked me if they wanted me
along. Edwina's one of them. I caught her voice although
her name and the name of the other girl were not called. I
don't like Edwina or the other girl and they don't like me,
so it's mutual!"
"Oh, Adrienne," said Joan, turning from the mirror to
give her a disapproving look.
Joan had on a navy blue dress, a gold necklace with
turquoise pendant, and matching earrings. Her shoes were
high-heeled navy blue with white trim. Adrienne helped
her into her white flannel coat and she picked up her white
gloves and navy blue bag. Adrienne surveyed her. "As usual
you look good, Joan."
Voices came through the open window. "Come on, Joan,
the main feature might go on before we get there."
Adrienne embraced Joan and rubbed her cheek against
Joan's. "Have a good time," she said.


82 FALSE MEASURE
Joan started through the door, stopped, and turned to
Adrienne. "Will you go riding with me and the others to-
morrow morning?" she asked.
"Maybe," answered Adrienne. "I'll let you know when
you come in tonight."
Joan and her two companions returned after one o'clock.
Edwina was juiced. It was evident that all had been drinking
but Edwina wasn't carrying hers as well as the others. Stum-
bling, chattering, and giggling, they climbed to Joan's room
to play some swing records before bed. Adrienne was fast
asleep when the three broke into the room with bedlam,
turning on the lights and the record player in quick se-
quence. Edwina snatched the covers from Adrienne, who was
startled from a deep sleep. Her eyes hadn't yet become ac-
customed to the light. Edwina sat on the side of Adrienne's
bed and stared at her with a devilish half-grin. Adrienne,
uncovered in her gown which had worked up to her thighs,
raised herself on one elbow and, unsmiling, stared back at
Edwina. The others were going through the pile of records
making selections. Edwina's eyes were glistening from too
many cocktails. Feigning a Southern accent, she called,
"What ah we gonna do about ah little Southern belle? Shall
we pull 'er outa bed?" She made a move as if to grasp
Adrienne's legs. Adrienne reached for the covers but Edwina
had purposely sat on them when she pulled them down.
"Don't do that, Edwina," Joan said. "She's sleepy and,
not being in the mood we're in, wouldn't appreciate any
horseplay." Adrienne didn't say a word; she was thoroughly
irritated but she had enough control to refrain from saying
anything that might precipitate an argument.
Joan pulled Edwina by the arm. "Let my roommate
sleep. Sit on my bed," and she guided Edwina to her bed.
"Besides, Adrienne's going riding with us tomorrow morn-
ing and needs her sleep."
"What?" said Edwina. "Then I'll sleep in the morning."
Joan gave her a reproachful look but said nothing.
The other girl started another set of records and grasped
Joan by the hand. "Let's dance."
Adrienne pulled the covers over herself, exhaled audibly,


FALSE MEASURE 83
and turned over. "You people can play that thing and dance
all night if you want to, but please leave me alone."
Sarcastically, Edwina answered, "Forgive us, Adrienne,
dear, we know not what we do."
Joan danced by Edwina and stopped long enough to
plead to her in a whisper, "For God's sake, Edwina, leave
Adrienne alone."
They danced themselves tired, alternating partners, and
then sat close together in a corner of the room and went
over what had happened at the roadhouse. It was amusing
to them now and they tittered about it. But it wasn't funny
when it was happening. The manager of the roadhouse knew
they were Smith students when they came in and he ushered
them to a table up front near the orchestra. They ordered a
round of old fashioneds. Then another. They struck up a
conversation with the orchestra leader, who played the num-
bers they asked for. He asked if he could buy them a drink.
The three girls looked at each other questioningly.
"Should we? Would it be the right thing to do?"
Edwina said, "Sure," and instead of one round, he
bought them two. The girls danced among themselves and
never far from their table. Two unattached men, one with
a cue-ball head, the other a replica of Edward G. Robinson
and apparently of the opinion that he was a modern version
of Little Caesar, came in with lots of fanfare, and noisily
ordered champagne after they had been seated several tables
away from the girls. They cased the place in two glances and
set their eyes on the three unescorted girls. In seconds they
were leering. They saw that the orchestra leader had bought
them two rounds and noticed the girls raise their glasses to
him in thanks. The girls either ignored or didn't see the ges-
tures they made to attract their attention. The one with the
cue-ball head called his waiter, pressed a bill in his hand,
and said, "Ask the girls if they'll have a drink on us. Cham-
pagne."
The waiter obliged and received a disdainful "No,"
in unison, Joan not even turning her head to see whom he
was talking about. When he reported that the girls refused,
the cue-ball said, "Who in hell do they think they are?"
"I'll see about this," his companion said. He made a bee-


84 FALSE MEASURE
line for the girls' table, pulling an empty chair from another
table as he went. He slammed this chair down at the girls'
table and sat down. "What's the matter we can't buy you
girls a drink?"
The girls looked down their noses at him and asked him
to move or they'd call the manager. Intermission was ending
and the orchestra leader was on his way back to the stand.
He saw something had happened and he heard one of the
girls say, "Get away from this table at once!" He approached
with an inquiring look and the girls asked him if he would
make "this thing" get away. The orchestra leader suggested
that since the girls didn't want him there, it would be better
for him to leave. He jumped up and shoved the orchestra
leader across the top of the girls' table. The girls screamed,
glasses crashed to the floor. Waiters and the manager came
running. The bouncer and a waiter hustled the men out.
The manager was profuse in his expressions of dismay.
His offer to pay for cleaning the liquor-stained dresses was
declined. He tendered them food and drink on the house,
which they accepted. After all, these were Smith College
girls and he didn't want them making any complaints about
his place. He would get in trouble with the authorities and
might lose his license. He did try to run a decent place and
keep out the rabble. Sometimes, though, these two-bit rack-
eteers would come in. There were more drinks on the house.
Edwina had positively had enough and she was driving. It
was decided that Joan should drive back. She was carrying
hers better. The manager said he would trail them to the
school since he didn't know what those two might be up to,
considering the type of characters they were. With a husky
waiter beside him, he kept up with Joan's sixty-five-miles-
an-hour clip right to the school entrance. He stood beside
his car and saw them running across the campus before he
got ready to pull off. Seeing a watchman making his rounds,
he remarked, "They'll be all right," and started back.
The girls enjoyed rehashing the whole episode. "Listen,"
Joan said, "we've danced and talked and laughed enough
for tonight. I've got to get up early and so do you, Edwina,
so you two go sleep off those old fashioneds." Down the
steps the others went; Joan looked through the window at


FALSE MEASURE 85
them scampering across the campus, Edwina lagging be-
hind and being pulled along by the hand.
Adrienne was up when Joan opened her eyes and
groaned, "Oh, my head! Daddy told me that on an evening's
drinking it's better to drink it straight or mixed with water
or sparkling water. You last longer and feel better the next
morning. It's the sugar that makes you feel bad, he says."
"You better get yourself together if you're going riding.
They'll be here for you soon. A warm shower should perk
you up."
"Are you going with us?" Joan asked.
Adrienne's answer was a flat "No," without explanation.
Joan didn't consider it prudent to insist or comment.
Edwina was going and she and Adrienne disliked each other
with a vengeance. Besides, Edwina had tried so hard to
needle Adrienne last night, Joan remembered. Further-
more, Doris Henderson was going too and she and Adrienne
were forever at loggerheads. No, she'd better leave well
enough alone. It wouldn't do for Adrienne to be along. It
would put a damper on the party. Moreover, if she should
press Adrienne to come along, Doris or Edwina or both
might claim a sudden, acute illness.
Joan stretched and yawned. "Adrienne, I'm sorry about
the way we broke in here last night and disturbed you."
"Forget it, dear," Adrienne said. "I knew all of you had
had too much and was tolerant of your behavior. As a matter
of fact, nobody behaved badly except Edwina. You just made
noise. She was giving vent to feelings she holds toward me
when she's completely sober."
"I wish you and Edwina weren't so perpetually vexed
with each other," Joan sighed. "I'm so fond of you both."
Adrienne bent over and kissed her forehead. "Come on,
little pretty, get up and get ready. They'll be here for you
any minute now."
Joan bounded out of bed and dashed for the shower, robe
and towel trailing.
On the outskirts of Northampton an old horseman, John,


86 FALSE MEASURE
ran a modern stable which was heavily patronized by Smith
students. Although he adjudged his enterprise a fashionable
one, with all the necessary trappings, his rental prices were
reasonable. For beginners, he had instructors. He also had
facilities for the care of other people's horses. Some of the
girls had their own horses shipped from their homes and
cared for at this stable. But most of the girls who rode
couldn't afford that luxury. Doris was one who could. Some
frequent riders, like Joan, could always arrange with John
to hold the horse of their liking if he was notified in ad-
vance.
Doris was responsible for Joan's becoming interested in
riding. The day Doris' horse arrived from Chicago, Joan was
with her when she went to welcome him. Joan agreed to
Doris' suggestion to try out her sprightly horse. Accom-
panied by an instructor, Joan rode horseback for the first
time in her life. "This is titillating," she exclaimed later. "I
must learn how to do this thing right." From then on, riding
was another of her hobbies. She inveigled Aunt Agnes into
paying for an expensive riding habit and made a special trip
to New York to have it fitted. Aunt Agnes sent her the
money and advised: "Consider this your Christmas present,
my little niece, and I suppose I'm obliged to split the cost
of your riding lessons and, later, horse rentals with your
father."
Accessories were supplied by her father, who shook
his head indulgently. "One sure thing, next year can't be as
expensive as this because you'll have everything under the
sun and you can't wear 'em out that fast." He didn't know.
Girls like Joan didn't wear out clothes. They tired of them
after a season.
While Adrienne was making up her mind whether she
was hungry enough to make a break for the dining hall be-
fore the doors were closed, three girls, including Doris and
Edwina, were at the threshold inquiring for Joan. Adrienne,
going to her closet for a jacket, said with an air of indiffer-
ence, "She's taking a bath, but if you want to come in and
sit down, you may." The three, attired in their riding habits,
seated themselves around Joan's bed, Edwina on the bed.
Edwina, remembering her attitude toward Adrienne the


FALSE MEASURE 87
night before, was regretful. She whipped Joan's bed cover
with her riding crop, and extended the dove of peace in
asking, "How about going riding with us this morning,
Adrienne? We'll have lots of fun."
Adrienne's reply was a curt "No." She buttoned her
jacket and went to the door. "Make yourselves at home.
Joan will be back shortly. I have things to do."
Joan rushed in a moment later and looked at Edwina,
fresh and ready, and asked, "How did you manage to get up
and ready so early, considering your condition when I last
saw you?"
"You don't know the half of it. I slept it off with ease.
and even made breakfast. I bet you didn't."
The others laughed. Edwina had told them what had
happened the night before.
Joan said, "You're right, I couldn't make breakfast this
morning and I'm certainly famished now."
Putting on a record while Joan hurried her dressing,
Doris said, "That's all right. You can get something to eat.
We'll tie up at one of those diners on the highway."
While Joan was pulling on her brown gabardine jodh-
purs, Edwina changed the subject to a matter that was on
her mind. "What's wrong with that roommate of yours? She
acted as though she was annoyed because we came up here
after having had a couple of drinks last night. Doesn't she
realize the year is almost over and we've all passed and it's
time for a letdown?"
"Don't be annoyed with Adrienne," Joan said. "She's
already forgotten about last night."
"Don't tell me," replied Edwina. "I offered her an olive
branch. She refused it. There's one certainty, I'll never offer
her another. Do you know what I did?"
"What?" asked Joan, halting her dressing for the answer.
"I invited that phony to go with us. Can you imagine
that?"
"Yes, I can," said Joan. "You're fundamentally kind,
thoughtful, and decent. Adrienne is difficult, but underneath
it all she's decent too, and needs people to be kind to her."
Doris was snapping her fingers to the music, but stopped
long enough to say, "Joan, even though you've been living


Two events in Joan's junior year stood out in her mind.
She was elected to Phi Beta Kappa and she met the man
whom she thought she loved. This year she and Edwina were
roommates. They discussed the possibilities of the man at
length, Joan's and his harmonious characteristics, his person-
ality, and his good looks. They agreed he was the one for
Joan.
The Vassar debating team had challenged Smith's and
invaded Northampton in October, 1939. The topic was,
"Did the Munich Agreement Precipitate the European
War?" The Smith team took the affirmative. Joan opened
the constructive argument for her team. After the chairman
introduced her, her remarks to the crowded hall that evening
were:
Not only at Munich, but before Munich in 1936, when
the Rhine was remilitarized and in 1938 when Austria was
annexed, Hitler should have been challenged by the Western
powers. Czechoslovakia had a well-trained and efficient army
with high morale at the time of the Munich Conference.
Litvinoff, speaking for the Russians, had publicly said that
Russia would honor her treaty with Czechoslovakia if Eng-
land and France would do the same. Also, he had pointed
out, as members of the League of Nations they were morally
obligated to go to the aid of the Czechs if they should be
attacked by Germany. If concertedly, England, France,
Russia, and Czechoslovakia had flatly refused Hitler's de-
mands for the Sudetenland and made known their deter-
mination to march if he moved into that area, it would have
made him take pause. The appeasement policies of Cham-
berlain for England and Daladier for France were a horri-
ble manifestation of weakness. Their ignoring the Russian
offer later drove the Russians into the arms of the Germans
and when Hitler was ready to make his big move he had no
misgivings about his Eastern front because his potential
Russian enemy had been immobilized by treaty. The poor
Czechs were not even allowed at the meetings where their
country was being dismembered. Their demands for admit-
90


FALSE MEASURE 91
tance to the parley were pitiful. When the major lines of the
territory to be carved out of Czechoslovakia had been agreed
upon and the matter had been referred to the joint experts
for the pin-pointed lines of new jurisdiction, Hitler laughed
and magnanimously said to Chamberlain and Daladier, "We
won't quibble over a village." The small Czech army was
alerted and in combat readiness but could not have stood
up to the Germans alone. Along with armies from England,
France, and Russia, it would have done itself proud.
When Hitler was ready to move again, the Western
Powers were weaker. They no longer had the well-equipped
divisions of the Czechs, and the Russians were preoccupied
with arranging their own protection in the East. Earlier this
year when Hitler took over all the rest of Czechoslovakia he
knew England and France wouldn't oppose him because of
their weakness, both physical and in spirit. Not a shot was
fired and Czechoslovakia was gone. Chamberlain uttered
some angry words followed by some more by Daladier. But
that was all. Hitler must have chortled. Emboldened, the
Germans followed the conquest of Czechoslovakia with the
annexation of Memel and the alarmed Western Powers were
still inert. The saber-rattling build-up about Danzig, and
the aggressive war of nerves against Poland by the effective
German propaganda machine, were telling on the rest of
cowering Western Europe. After his great and noisy prepara-
tions and threats followed by his ultimatum to Poland,
Hitler still believed that England and France wouldn't take
any counteraction. However, the invasion of Poland on the
first of September was too much for the British and French
to swallow and they reluctantly declared war on Germany
two days later.
In concluding, I should like to say that it should have
been obvious to Chamberlain and Daladier that the bully-
ing, expansionist Germans' greed would not have been satis-
fied by the crumbs they gave them at Munich. Their armies,
allied with the Czechs and Russians, could have effectively
stopped the Nazis at that time and probably smashed their
growing war machine. When the Western Powers finally did
challenge Hitler, they were weaker than they were at
Munich and the Germans were stronger. In September,
1939, the Nazis were more contemptuous of the military
prowess of England and France, minus effective allies, than
they were in September, 1938, and they were ready to defy
them, and did, by a major aggressive act. The Western Pow-
ers were unable to ignore this aggression and the result was
the start of the present war. It is directly traceable to the
capitulation of England and France — at the expense of


92 FALSE MEASURE
Czechoslovakia — to Germany and her ally Italy, at the Mun-
ich Four Power Conference to obtain "peace in our time" in
the hope that they had acceded to the "last" of Hitler's
territorial demands in Europe.
Joan spoke in lively tones. She was either smiling or
serious or derisive, as the particular point required.
The audience liked the presentation and showed it by
its applause.
Other members of the team enlarged upon Joan's re-
marks. The Vassar team's thesis was that Chamberlain's and
Daladier's capitulation to Hitler was mainly to buy time to
get ready to face him later in a position of greater strength.
In rebuttal speeches the Smith team quickly pointed out
that at Munich the Western Powers lost their greatest
strength, the Czech and Russian armies. Now they were
facing the Nazis, who had become much stronger since
Munich, alone. Because the Western Powers were weaker,
the Germans didn't consider it a great risk to invade Poland.
The Smith team won by the unanimous vote of the
judges, who were teachers from both schools. The Vassar
team had presented its arguments well and an excellent
speech had been made by the president, Beatrice Harrison,
a senior. She was a comely, well-formed blonde who, Joan
thought, was somewhat arrogant in her manner of speaking,
the pitch of her voice, and the way she appeared to be look-
ing down her nose at people. Her delivery was coldly intel-
lectual, stilted, and unanimated, but she was well poised.
Beatrice Harrison had taken note of Joan. She remarked,
"Such an extremely attractive girl and she can think and
talk like that!" When the debate was over, she offered Joan
her hand. "That was certainly a good speech you made, Miss
Turner. Your argument was well marshaled and you are
familiar with the European scene." Her smile seemed forced
and artificial, not genuine, Joan thought.
"Thank you, Miss Harrison, but you are in line for
some kudos too. No one here made a better speech than you,
and your rebuttal was masterful."
"Thank you, and call me Beatrice."
'Good. Call me Joan."


FALSE 'MEASURE 93
"Are you going to have some refreshments?" Beatrice
asked.
"Yes," Joan said, picking up her papers. "They're being
served over in the dining hall."
"Let's go together and we can talk."
Beatrice and Joan sat at a table together. Beatrice had
said that since her group was to stay on the campus overnight
she was in no rush. Joan smiled. "I have an eight-o'clock
class tomorrow morning and I still have some more prepar-
ing to do, so I can't linger too long. I'll sit with you and
finish my coffee, though."
Joan told Beatrice that she was a junior and had been a
member of the debating team, since her freshman year.
Beatrice had also been a member of Vassar's team since her
first year. Beatrice said her home was in Boston and she had
chosen Vassar rather than Mount Holyoke, where her father
wanted her to go, because two of her favorite high school
teachers had influenced her. Joan said Smith had been her
first choice from the time she started high school and her
favorite teacher was a Smith alumna. They discussed the war
in Europe, and Beatrice said she hoped the United States
would remain strictly neutral and take no action that would
make it appear the United States was taking sides. An overt
act, she said, might get us in the war. Joan replied that she
certainly didn't want the United States to get into the war
at that time, but she felt the United States should give Brit-
ain and France all the aid possible — arms, munitions, ships
— except men, because the Nazis and their philosophy
should be crushed.
They talked of people they knew at other schools.
Beatrice mentioned a friend at Columbia, said he was pretty
smart and alert and had visited her in Boston. Joan stopped
the movement of her coffee to her lips in mid-air and with-
out being cognizant of it, stared at Beatrice. She dropped her
eyes, took a slow, thoughtful sip and said, "I know him too.
I saw him when I was in New York in August to see the
World's Fair. He came to see the girl I was staying with.
She's a student at Barnard."
"What's her name?" Beatrice asked.
"Helen Terrence."


94 FALSE MEASURE
Then Beatrice stared at Joan momentarily without a
word. She picked up her sandwich, turned it back and forth
as though studying it. "I know Helen very well," she said
without looking at Joan.
Now the same question was running through each girl's
mind. But how to ask it? Should it be asked? If asked, use the
proper words and turn the sentence nicely so as not to
offend. Both girls were silent longer than they realized, turn-
ing the same question over in their minds. They had scruti-
nized each other closely and there wasn't a scintilla of evi-
dence. This, coupled with the knowledge that such a ques-
tion based on a supposition that was incorrect would be in-
sulting to some people, made them further reluctant to ask.
Ending the brief silence, Beatrice swallowed a sip of her
coffee, slightly banged the cup in the saucer, said, "What the
hell!" to herself and out loud to Joan, "Are you colored,
Joan?"
They both looked into each other's eyes a second. Then
Joan laughed. "Of course I am. Are you?"
"Yes," Beatrice laughed with Joan. Each told the other
she had thought so because of the mutual close Negro friends
they had named, but was afraid to spring the question.
They found other mutual acquaintances, and in naming
them sometimes Beatrice's sudden mirth seemed to be spon-
taneous and gay, yet she didn't give Joan the impression she
was completely unbending. Perhaps it wasn't her nature to
be otherwise.
Joan was later leaving Beatrice than she had planned and
not before she had promised to visit her in Boston on a near
weekend or the Thanksgiving holidays. Joan settled for the
Thanksgiving weekend and was off with a handshake to
finish studying for that eight-o'clock class.
"I'll write you as a reminder," Beatrice called and Joan
waved as she disappeared through the doorway.
Joan was standing on the platform when her train pulled
slowly into South Station Wednesday evening. She wore a
brown sharkskin suit and a sheared beaver coat thrown cas-


FALSE MEASURE 95
ually around her shoulders. Her hat was also of sheared
beaver made in cossack style. Her shoes were brown snake-
skin and her bag matched her shoes. Beatrice, with a porter
standing beside her, spotted Joan before the train came to a
stop and sent the porter hurrying to help her off. When Joan
reached the platform, Beatrice came up running and they
fell into each other's arms. Two letters each and a telegram
from Joan had helped to make them friends. For once,
Beatrice's conversation semed to be genuinely spirited. She
was glad to see Joan and to have her as a weekend visitor.
She had talked to her parents about Joan in detail, and to
the select few friends she had invited to her house to meet
Joan this very night.
Beatrice slipped her arm in Joan's and, hustling along
behind the porter, she animatedly told her how well she
looked. "I think we'll have a good time this weekend. I've
only planned one affair for us, outside of Thanksgiving
dinner at home of course. That's a small gathering of my
friends whom I've invited to come to the house tonight to
meet you. Whatever we do with the rest of the time will be
as you wish. There'll be several choices."
"Sounds good to me," Joan said.
"Are you hungry?" Beatrice asked.
"Perhaps I am. I haven't thought about food since I
learned there wasn't a diner on the train."
"That's good. Mother told the maid to keep our dinner
warm while I came down to meet you."
The porter placed Joan's bag in the rear of the car and,
having been dismissed with a fifty-cent tip from Beatrice,
took off his hat and bowed, saying, "Thank you, Miss Harri-
son."
He knew of her as the daughter of a famous colored law-
yer. He had heard her father speak. He didn't know whether
Joan was white or colored, but decided that since Miss Harri-
son was such highfalutin society and went to one of those
exclusive white girls' schools, this must be "one of them
white society girls."
Beatrice had come down in her mother's car. They
started out for Roxbury, and it wasn't long before Joan be-
came aware that Beatrice was an atrocious driver. Leaving


96 FALSE MEASURE
the station, she ran through two red lights. She drove un-
necessarily fast and passed cars so closely it was a miracle
she didn't side-swipe them — she couldn't judge distance
that well. Joan found herself pressing the floor boards when-
ever they had a close call. Beatrice's expression didn't indi-
cate she thought they were close calls at all.
"My parents put up an awful howl because I came up
here instead of going home for Thanksgiving," Joan men-
tioned. "Fortunately my school is near enough to my home
for me to have promised to come home a weekend before
Christmas."
"I tell you what," said Beatrice, "I'll spend part of the
Christmas holidays with you if I'm invited, and that ought
to even things up."
"Good! It's a date."
Beatrice had to jam on her brakes to keep from hitting
a man who started crossing as the light changed. Joan
caught her breath and resolved she'd keep her mouth shut
for the rest of the ride: Beatrice couldn't drive, much less
drive and talk. A fine mist was falling and the roadway was
slippery. It was just luck that the car didn't skid, Joan
thought.
"No question about it," Beatrice said. "He was crossing
against the light. An old goon like that ought to be careful."
The Harrisons' three-story brick house was moderately
imposing, located in a quiet, upper-middle-class neighbor-
hood. It was expensively furnished in good taste. In the base-
ment there was a playroom with a pool table, bar, card
tables, and combination record player. On the first floor
there were two sitting rooms, a huge dining room with heavy
period furniture, and the kitchen. The master bedroom with
its massive set, Beatrice's room, the library, and a guest room
were on the second floor. The third floor had two guest
rooms and the maid's room. One of these rooms had served
as Beatrice's playroom in earlier years. To the side and rear
of the house there was a two-car heated garage.
Beatrice pulled up in the driveway and called through
a side door, "Henry, Henry, are you there?"
From a distance within the house a voice replied, "Yes,
ma'am!"


FALSE MEASURE 97
"Come quickly and bring in Miss Turner's bag," com-
manded Beatrice.
Henry was Mr. Harrison's chauffeur, handyman, butler,
and jack-of-all-trades. He had been a fixture in the house-
hold since Mr. Harrison's income had reached the five-figure
bracket, which was for a number of years now. Henry had
watched Beatrice grow up. He took it upon himself when she
was still a youngster to admonish her to be very selective in
choosing her playmates, as if her mother hadn't already in-
stilled in her that she, a Harrison, couldn't afford to associ-
ate and play with anybody's children. Henry carried it fur-
ther. Offspring of parents he considered inferior to the
Harrisons, he chased from the yard.
"Henry, meet my friend, Miss Turner," Beatrice said
when they ran into him in the back hall. "I've known him a
good bit of my life and he spent many watchful hours over
me when I was little. Didn't you, Henry?"
"Yes, I did, Miss Harrison, and I enjoyed it. I enjoy seeing
the fine young woman you've grown to be, too. I like to
think I had some part in it."
Joan offered her hand. He took it and patted it, respect-
fully and avuncularly. "You sure are pretty, just like Miss
Harrison said," he grinned.
"Miss Turner will be our guest for the weekend,"
Beatrice said. "Do anything she asks."
"Yes, Miss Harrison."
"Where are mother and father?"
"They're both in the front living room."
It has been said that two people after years of compatible
marriage tend to resemble each other physically. If this were
ever true, it was true of Mr. and Mrs. Harrison. They could
have passed for brother and sister. Joan was immediately
struck by this.
Mr. Harrison was tall and solidly built with beginning
traces of a protuberant abdomen. His complexion was fair
with a tinge of redness at his forehead. His face was round
and full but sharp-featured. His penetrating gray eyes had
a humorous twinkle. He had a full head of silky white hair
which he wore parted on the side. His pince-nez glasses en-
hanced his distinguished bearing. When he opened his


98 FALSE MEASURE
mouth it was with a Harvard accent and when his mouth
was closed he looked like a product of Harvard — the well-
tailored suits, the finished appearance. He was handsome.
Mrs. Harrison was trim and had carefully watched her
figure. Her mixed gray hair was bobbed with a tapered
shingle at the back. She, too, wore hers parted on the side,
with the other side long and fluffed-up on top. Her com-
plexion was white with a little rouge carefully rubbed on
each cheek for coloring. She used lipstick sparingly. There
were thin lines in her forehead and at the corners of her
eyes. Those at the corners of her blue-gray eyes deepened
into small crow's-feet when she laughed or smiled. She, too,
wore pince-nez glasses. They were attached to a chain around
her neck. She observed the amenities and accepted customs
to the letter. Beatrice was the spitting image of her mother.
Mr. Harrison had been a protege" of William Lewis, who
was graduated from Harvard Law School at the turn of the
century. Lewis had been a star football player and was
named an all-time ail-American by Walter Camp. He was
the first Negro graduate of Harvard Law School and was
later a member of its athletic committee. He was the dean
of all Negro barristers and became one of the most success-
ful lawyers in Boston. Lewis saw in Harrison the makings of
a good lawyer and encouraged and helped him. Harrison
was graduated cum laude from Harvard Law School and
served his apprenticeship as clerk to a Suffolk County judge.
Later he was appointed clerk of the probate court and then
he went into private practice. He was notably successful and
well known all over the state. In recent years he had wanted
to be a judge because of the quieter life, and he had become
active in Boston politics for that reason. He had been offered
a post as chief assistant district attorney which he promptly
rejected with mild manifestation of contempt. The job
would have entailed a great loss of income and it did not
offer prestige commensurate with the eminence he had
gained at the bar.
Boston political leaders, with an eye to the growing
colored vote, knew they were eventually going to have to
give Harrison the judgeship he wanted and merited.
In 1916 Harrison married a good-looking Boston school


FALSE MEASURE 99
teacher, trained at Massachusetts Normal School. She con-
tinued teaching until Harrison's income increased. Then
she resigned. Their only child, Beatrice, was born in 1918.
Beatrice led Joan to her mother and father. Mrs. Harri-
son had heard them coming in and put down her crocheting
to go meet them. They were at the living room door when
she reached them. "So this is Joan," she said, and put an
arm around her. She stood Joan off at arm's length and ex-
amined her. "Exactly like you said, Beatrice," she laughed,
the crow's-feet at the corners of her eyes deepening, "and
smart, too. Come meet Beatrice's father," she continued, her
arm around Joan's waist.
Mr. Harrison was already on his feet and walking toward
them, evening newspaper in hand. With a firm handclasp, he
said, "We've heard much about you, Joan. We hope your
stay with us will be pleasant. Anything you desire or need,
just ask. I imagine Beatrice has made arrangements for your
social activities."
"Thank you so much," Joan said.
"I know Joan must be famished," Mrs. Harrison said.
"I'll have Daisy put dinner on the table for you two while
you show Joan to her room, Beatrice."
"All right, mother."
Mr. Harrison said, "If you girls want a cocktail before
you eat, I'll have Henry make them up and put them on
the table, or bring them up to you. Whichever you want."
"Have him bring them up," Beatrice said as she and Joan
climbed the stairs.
Mrs. Harrison joined the girls at the dinner table for
after-dinner coffee and a cigarette. She came into the dining
room in time to hear Beatrice berating Daisy for serving
coffee that wasn't hot enough. Daisy was one of a series of
Harrison maids and had been hired since Beatrice's last visit
home. Beatrice was the bane of household servants — except
Henry. Her treatment had them quitting at inopportune
times: when Mrs. Harrison was having afternoon or evening
guests, or immediately before dinner was to be prepared.
Daisy apologized and started back to the kitchen with the
two cups of coffee. Beatrice called after her, "Bring a third


100 FALSE MEASURE
cup on your return, one for mother too, but don't come
back in here until it's really hot!"
Mrs. Harrison took a seat at the table. "Now, Beatrice,
don't annoy Daisy too much. This is the Thanksgiving week-
end and it would indeed be tragic to be without a maid.
You know the inconveniences we've had before with maids
leaving when they're needed most."
"I know, mother, but some of these stupid colored maids
make me sick."
"Now, my child, Daisy's a good cook — the best we've
had recently — and a good housekeeper. She's not perfect,
but who is? As hard as good maids are to find I was ready to
clap hands after she'd been here a week and I felt she would
stay. When you've seen more of her you'll think she's all
right."
"I hope so, mother."
"Well, please leave her alone for the rest of this week-
end."
The coffee came piping hot. Inserting a cigarette in a
long holder, teasing, Mrs. Harrison asked, "Is it hot enough
for you now, Beatrice?"
"Yes, mother, but only after a complaint."
With Mrs. Harrison, the girls began discussing their
plans. Joan said she had set her heart on going to France
the next summer, 1940, but with the war going on that was
out. Mrs. Harrison asked Joan what she intended to do after
graduation. Joan said she hadn't thought too much about it.
"I guess I'll get married. Maybe I'll teach awhile, unless the
right guy comes along."
"My dear, you won't have any trouble getting a hus-
band," Mrs. Harrison assured her.
"Yes, but I can't marry just anybody."
"The pick of the most promising Negro males will be
at your command. Select a man who's not too bad to look at,
has a good trained head on his shoulders, and who can earn
you a more than average income," said Beatrice.
"Men like your father aren't found every day," Mrs.
Harrison smiled.
"No, but they're around," answered Beatrice.
"All I've got to do is find one," laughed Joan.


FALSE MEASURE 101
"If you don't marry right after graduation and want to
teach awhile, Mr. Harrison can get you in one of the high
schools here, more than likely the September after you
finish," Mrs. Harrison remarked.
"That would be good, Joan. I might do that myself,"
said Beatrice.
"I'll think about it," said Joan. "I still have another year
to go and anything might happen."
"Yes," smiled Beatrice, "you might find the right man."
Joan chuckled. "That may happen, but I'm not going to
rush into marriage. And if I don't, I'll probably be sitting
on Mr. Harrison's doorstep pressing him to get me in the
school system here."
Beatrice said that her father wanted her to go to law
school but she had made it known a couple of years before
that she wasn't enthusiastic about it. Mrs. Harrison ex-
plained that her husband had wanted a son and he had at-
tempted to impose on Beatrice what he would have expected
a son to agree to happily.
Beatrice asserted, "Oh, I could go to Harvard and get
through but I couldn't stand the rough and tumble of court-
room arguments and pleadings. Men are better at that. More
dramatic, too. I guess I'll marry and have a family, if I run
into the right guy."
"What do your parents want you to do, Joan?" asked Mrs.
Harrison.
"They haven't urged me in any direction. They let me
make my own decisions. Of course, that doesn't mean they
haven't or won't make suggestions which I can either accept
or reject."
"Listen!" exclaimed Mrs. Harrison, looking at her
watch. "It's nine o'clock and your young guests will be ar-
riving any minute. You girls better go dress."
They hadn't started their bath before the doorbell began
ringing. "Will you girls come on downstairs? Almost all the
guests are here," Mrs. Harrison called after a half hour.
They had been back and forth in each other's rooms
commenting and helping each other dress. Joan was seated
at Beatrice's dressing table and Beatrice was putting a par-
ticular twist in the back of her hair that she thought would


102 FALSE MEASURE
be attractive. Then Joan sat Beatrice down and brushed one
side of her hair back over her ear. It was becoming. Both
girls looked good. They took a final perusal of themselves in
the mirror and then said, "Let's go down." The record
player had been going. Now someone was playing the piano
and everybody was dancing.
Joan was in a short-sleeved velveteen dress of a soft rose
color. It was cut low, and around her dainty, sensitive neck
she wore a gold chain with a sapphire pendant. Her earrings
matched the pendant. Beatrice was wearing a green crepe
dress with short sleeves. Fastened around her refined and
delicate neck was a white gold necklace with an opal pen-
dant. The girls exchanged compliments on each other's ex-
quisite appearance. They were cognizant of their appealing
beauty.
Arm in arm, Joan and Beatrice entered the front sitting
room. Mrs. Harrison, who was dancing with one of the
young men, spied them. "At long last they're here!"
The boys and girls stopped dancing to greet Beatrice and
be introduced to Joan. Mr. Harrison was leaning on the
baby grand watching one of the girls play. Beatrice had kept
the number of guests down to eight boys and eight girls.
They were all there. Nobody let pass an invitation from
Beatrice Harrison.
Mount Holyoke, Radcliffe, Simmons, Wellesley, and
Howard were represented by the girls. The men were from
Amherst, Williams, Yale, Harvard, Dartmouth, Lincoln, and
Howard. Every girl there either looked white or was so near
white it wasn't easily detected that she wasn't. They were
blondes of various shades and brunettes ranging from au-
burn-haired to raven-haired. Some of the men could be easily
identified as Negroes, but they were far from black and
wouldn't have been there if they were. On rare occasions a
dark man might receive an invitation from Beatrice. But it
would be for an intellectual gathering and he would be there
because of some unusual quality or achievement. This night
it was strictly a social gathering.
Joan was introduced to everyone and joined the dancing.
They did the jitterbug, but modified and more reserved.
There was no longer the complete abandon, the fancy intri-


FALSE MEASURE 105
dance and insisted that Mr. Harrison dance with her before
he left. He agreed. Then her partner danced with Mrs. Har-
rison, although she said she'd danced enough for one night,
considering her age and the fast clip at which youngsters
danced nowadays. Later, at the door, Mr. Harrison gave
Henry instructions to stick around and mix a few more
drinks for the youngsters. He had a final word for Ronald.
"How's that law coming along?" he asked.
"Fine, so far, Mr. Harrison."
"Oh, you'll make it," encouraged Mr. Harrison.
Mildred said to Ronald, "I'll play once more for you to
dance with Joan, and then you sit yourself down here and
play while I dance."
"Oke," he said.
At the end of the piece Joan walked over to Ronald, who
raised himself from the piano. She said, "The next is ours."
Leading Joan from the piano by the hand, he said to his
sister, "Play 'Tuxedo Junction.'"
When Joan and Ronald moved into their dance, she
found that this man electrified her. Mildred was playing the
fox trot perhaps a little slower than it should have been
played — maybe by design. Ronald was holding her close
and she realized she was falling right in with his suggestive
movements, movements that couldn't be obvious to others
because they were devious and sly, but they caused her to
have sensations to a depth she hadn't previously known. She
had danced close to men at other times, like everybody else.
She had necked, but she had never felt like this before. Here
was a man she'd never even kissed, had only met a couple of
hours ago, she thought, and he had her feeling as though
she was going to melt away. She turned over in her mind
some of the things girls at school said they had done when
they gave in to what they called an overwhelming emotion.
She had looked at them askance and averred that no man
had ever moved her that much. She could control her emo-
tions. With her arm around Ronald's neck, her other hand
held by him at his chest and seemingly squeezed by him at
precisely the right moments, along with his hidden move-
ments, they glided across the thickly carpeted floor. Joan
felt as though she were sailing through clouds. Temporarily


106 FALSE MEASURE
she was oblivious to the presence of others who were laugh-
ing, talking, and commenting on Mildred's excellent rendi-
tion of this number. Joan felt she was breathing hard and
made an effort to stop it, but she couldn't. She knew Ronald
could feel her heaving bosom. When the song ended, her
face was flushed and she momentarily let her head drop on
his chest. He, knowing, patted her on the back, and led her
to the piano.
"Was that all right?" Mildred asked her brother.
"Fine!" he said, taking her place at the piano and maneu-
vering disturbed Joan to a seat beside him on the bench.
"What'll you have?" he asked Mildred.
Ready with her partner, she answered, "'One O'Clock
Jump,' and see if you can play it like Count Basie."
One would have thought he had been taught it by the
Count himself. One of the girls swung past and said over her
shoulder, "If Count Basie ever got sick you could substitute
for him."
Joan was sitting motionless, staring at the keys. She hoped
no one had looked at her face when her dance with Ronald
ended, and she hoped no one would notice her discomposure
and tremors as she sat there beside him. She tried hard to
calm herself, but her barely visible shaking continued. Ron-
ald leaned over and whispered in her ear, without a break in
his song, "Just be quiet for a few minutes, my dear. You'll be
all right."
Joan thought she saw a devilish grin on his lips and a
dangerous glint in his eyes. "I'll never be caught alone with
this guy," she vowed to herself.
Henry passed by and Joan stopped him to whisper,
"Bring me a double straight scotch."
"Chaser?" he asked.
"Don't bother about that."
Henry was back pronto and the drink he brought was
more than a double. Joan did away with it quickly in large
swallows and in seconds her trembling stopped and her col-
oring returned to normal, but now her head was swimming
— she was high.
Ronald finished his song and quietly inquired, "How're
you doing?"


FALSE MEASURE 107
"Fine," she replied and the smile she gave him was a
half-intoxicated one. "Play another song."
"Will you sit here with me?" he asked.
"Yes, I will," she said and refused two requests to dance,
not because she preferred to sit with Ronald, but because she
didn't think her legs would hold her if she tried.
Mildred rushed over to the piano, shoved her brother
over, and said, "Let's do this one together."
With Mildred playing the bass chords, the two went into
a lilting tune, joined in by as many voices as could gather
around the piano. Joan, her head still swimming, sang too.
Then Mildred edged her brother over farther so she
could have the play of the whole keyboard, making him al-
most force Joan off the seat. She swung into "How High the
Moon." The girls squealed when she started that favorite
number. Everybody sang. Ronald hit a chord now and then.
Henry made an appearance and said it was last call if any-
body wanted anything else. No one did. They had all had
enough. Even Beatrice had had one too many. Her eyes were
shining and she was laughing more than usual. The guests
were beginning to get their coats and drift away, but not be-
fore expressing to Joan their pleasure at having met her.
Joan had recovered enough from the last hooker to stand and
walk to the door with them, accompanied by Beatrice.
One girl, Roberta Jones, a former schoolmate of Mil-
dred's in high school, indignantly demanded of Ronald
whether he intended to take her home or was he going to sit
at the piano all night. Ronald hadn't escorted her to the par-
ty but he had been out with her more than with any other
Boston girl and she considered herself his girl friend. Be-
sides, she was his sister's closest friend. His attentions to Joan
had irritated her and she had seen every move the two had
made from the time they started their first and only dance.
She alone had witnessed Joan's reaction to the dance with
Ronald and wanted to scratch Joan's eyes out. Mildred had
gone for her coat and Ronald, alone at the piano, had lapsed
into a sentimental ditty. He didn't look up on Roberta's de-
mand. He kept playing, humming, and swaying, apparently
too engrossed to have heard. Roberta leaned on the piano
glaring at him. Mildred returned with her coat on and went


108 FALSE MEASURE
to the piano to tell her brother she was leaving, her escort
directly behind her. Ronald turned to him and offhandedly
asked if he would see Roberta home. "You'll have to pass her
house." He looked at his sister for approval.
She raised her eyebrows. "It's all right with me."
Ronald went back to his song, without a glance at Ro-
berta. She continued to glare at him. Joan came back into the
room after bidding some guests good night and sat beside
Ronald.
Mildred said, "Come on, Roberta, let's go."
Her escorted said, "We'll drive you home, Roberta."
Roberta gave Ronald a final angry look, glowered at
Joan who was unaware of what was going on, and stalked
from the room and the house, without a good night to Bea-
trice or Joan. Ronald hadn't missed a beat and hadn't raised
his head from the keys. Mildred and her escort ran after Ro-
berta, with Mildred calling, "Roberta, for goodness sake
wait a minute and don't be silly."
Beatrice, who had taken in Roberta's final act, walked
over to Ronald and smiled down at him. "What have you
done to Roberta?"
"Nothing," Ronald said and ran his fingers up and down
the keys.
"Maybe that's it. She probably wanted you to do some-
thing you wouldn't do."
"She demanded that I take her home. I didn't escort her
here or promise to, and I did or said nothing to make her
think I was going to take her home."
"You paid her little or no attention tonight but you have
devoted so much time to her in the past, that tonight she was
first hurt and then angered. A woman scorned, you know,"
said Beatrice and winked at Joan who was all ears but said
nothing.
Oliver Wilson of Dartmouth, and Beatrice's special male
guest, asked Ronald to play one more piece. "Then," he
suggested, "we'd better shove off."
They were the only two guests remaining. Ronald moved
into "Good Night, Sweetheart," fixed his eyes on Joan and
began to sing. Joan couldn't look into his eyes. They said
too many dangerous things. She turned her head and leaned


FALSE MEASURE 109
back against him, feeling him swaying with the rhythm of
his music. The other two hummed the notes of the song.
"Come on, let's go," Oliver said to Ronald. "With Joan
sitting there beside you you'll play all night."
Beatrice brought their coats. Walking to the door, she
slipped her arm in Oliver's. Ronald put his arm in Joan's
and pressed it, his fingers drawing her to him. She broke
away and went to the door with him at a distance. She wasn't
going to be violently disturbed twice in one night by this
man. He chuckled and warned, "I'll kiss you yet."
"Not unless and until I get good and ready," she re-
torted.
Opening the outside door, Beatrice said, "Oliver, you and
Ronald are invited for dinner tomorrow if you can make it."
"Thanks," they said. "We can make it."
"On second thought, I should ask Joan if she wants to be
bothered with you tomorrow, Ronald." Beatrice smiled.
Ronald looked at Joan and grinned. "May I come, Miss
Turner?"
"Oh, I'll tolerate you tomorrow if you promise to behave
yourself."
The earlier evening mist had frozen, leaving a thin film
of glassy ice on the marble steps. Ronald, saying good night
and "I'll see you tomorrow," stepped out without noticing
the condition of the step. When his hard leather heel hit
the slippery step, it went out from under him and with much
clattering and arm-waving, he skidded into mid-air, land-
ing on his rump on the sidewalk four steps below. He said,
"Goddamn!" and sat a couple of seconds and got up brush-
ing himself.
Concerned, Beatrice called out to him. "Are you hurt,
Ronald?"
"No, I'm all right."
Joan howled and said, "It serves you right!"
Oliver had come down the steps gingerly and the two
men went on their way, Oliver's laughter breaking the early
morning stillness.
In Joan's bed, for nearly two hours, she and Beatrice


110 FALSE MEASURE
talked. First Joan wanted to know more about Ronald. Next
she wanted to know who the girl was who made a minor
scene over him.
"That was Roberta Jones," Beatrice said. "She's a junior
at Mount Holyoke. She's a Boston girl. Her father's a phy-
sician here."
"She's a pretty girl," Joan said, "and apparently has a
great deal to offer. She shouldn't permit herself to get so
wrapped up in one man. There are too many other worth-
while men. A little more and she would have disgraced her-
self."
"She's crazy about Ronald and it'll take some time for
her to get over it."
"Why is she so crazy about him?"
"Well, he's taken her out often. In fact, for the last two
years he's been seen with her more than any other girl and
I guess he led her to believe he was hers and she was his.
She knew all along that he's a glamor boy. He's been that
way ever since he was at the Latin School."
"It's obvious he's been around. And he is a handsome
rascal."
"He's a smart devil, too," Beatrice said. "We used to won-
der how he could keep up with his studies, he carried on so.
But he does more than keep up. He's always in a top portion
of his class. When he was graduated from Harvard College,
he was in the top tenth of his class. He'll probably finish law
school magna cum laude."
Both girls were thoughtful a moment.
"Who are his parents and where does he live?" asked
Joan.
"His mother died about ten years ago," Beatrice resumed.
"His father owns a bar and grill on Tremont Street and an-
other on Columbus Avenue. Besides, he's the biggest policy
banker in this area. According to my father, if a reform ad-
ministration should get elected and put him out of business,
he's piled a lot of money into annuities, hidden bank ac-
counts, and paying properties for the benefit of Ronald and
Mildred, both of whom he loves dearly and is proud of. The
father is unschooled but could always make a dollar and has
high objectives for his children. They live in a sumptuously


FALSE MEASURE 111
furnished house two blocks from here. Since their mother's
death, he has had a middle-aged housekeeper to look after
his children, and a maid. Ronald and Mildred have always
had more money than they needed. Their father will give
them practically anything they ask for. Ronald had a car
when he was in high school and Mildred went off to college
in a brand new roadster. Considering everything, I think
they've kept their heads and turned out to be nice kids."
"That's an interesting history," mused Joan. "Then it's
racket money that's sending Ronald to Harvard and helping
to make him as vain as he is."
"Yes, if you want to put it that way," Beatrice answered.
"Ronald intrigues me," Joan admitted, "and I'm afraid
of him. Or, I should say, I'm afraid of myself with him."
"I've heard he can be devastating and irresistible as a
lover," Beatrice smiled.
"I'll see him for the rest of the weekend but I'll hold
him at arm's length," Joan asserted. "Sort of like a child
playing with fire. You know it might burn you but you play
with it anyway. In case we should go out somewhere and
he's along, promise me you won't leave me alone with him.
I don't want him to be running me up in any corners I can't
escape from."
Beatrice laughed. "I won't, but after you've seen more of
him you'll probably be able to handle him."
"I hope so."
"I think we ought to get some sleep or we'll hardly wake
up in time for dinner," Beatrice said.
"You're right," Joan responded.
Beatrice jumped out of Joan's bed, restored the covers,
kissed her on her forehead. "If I wake up first I'll call you,
and if you wake up first, call me. Good night, dear."
"Okay. Good night, Bea."
At eleven o'clock, Beatrice was up and had showered.
She roused Joan and told her Daisy would be up with a
breakfast tray in minutes but she'd have time to shower
first if she wanted. Joan bounced out of bed and sprinted for
the bath. "Gee, that coffee and ham smell good," she called.
"I'll be back before Daisy gets here."
Daisy came upstairs carrying a large tray with everything


112 FALSE MEASURE
from orange juice to ham steaks, eggs, fried potatoes, sliced
tomatoes, and her specialty, hot biscuits with melted butter
oozing out. The hot dishes were hidden by silver covers.
"Where do you want this, Miss Harrison?"
"Here, in my room," Beatrice answered.
Daisy set the tray down and Beatrice immediately
checked the individual pots to test the temperature of the
coffee. Satisfied, she gave Daisy a forced smile. "It's all right.
Thank you."
"I put the coffee in the silver pots 'cause it keeps hot long-
er," Daisy explained and made her exit to Beatrice's "Okay."
Joan was slipping her legs into emerald green gabardine
lounging slacks when Beatrice called to her, "Come on, Joan,
it'll get cold."
"In a minute I'll be there."
Joan put on a high-necked, white silk blouse. Then she
parted her hair in the middle, combed it straight back,
placed a narrow white ribbon underneath it, and tied a
bow on top of her head. She slid her feet into toast-colored
espadrille casuals. She appraised herself in the mirror and
was satisfied. She ran to Beatrice's room.
"Joan, your hair is simply gorgeous this morning," Bea-
trice gushed. "You're positively bewitching."
"Flatterer."
They both dove into their food, talking while they ate.
Beatrice was stretched out on her chaise longue wearing
green and magenta heavy silk faille lounging pajamas. Joan
was lying on her stomach across the pink coverlet at the foot
of Beatrice's bed.
"I'd like to have some pajamas exactly like those but I
wonder if I'd look as good in them as you do?" Joan asked.
"You would. Probably better."
Mrs. Harrison knocked and entered to "Good morning,
mother," and "Good morning, Mrs. Harrison."
She kissed both girls and asked if they had had a good
time last night.
"Oh, yes," they trilled.
As a concession to her daughter, Mrs. Harrison was wear-
ing slacks this morning. Beatrice had convinced her that she
should stay young along with her. She had the figure and the


FALSE MEASURE 113
face, her daughter insisted. She sat on the bed beside Joan.
"You must have had a good time. I heard the piano and
singing until the wee hours."
"The person playing in the wee hours was Ronald and
there were only four of us singing then. The others had
gone," Beatrice explained.
"Besides Ronald, the other straggler wouldn't have been
Oliver?" Mrs. Harrison teased. "Oliver has previously shown
he has a crush on you, Beatrice, so he unquestionably hung
around because of you. And now I've got to team up
Ronald."
Joan and Beatrice looked at each other and smiled. Mrs.
Harrison saw them and gave a knowing laugh. "Ah ha, so
that's it! You and Ronald, Joan?" She patted her. Suddenly
she simulated a serious mien to Joan's and Beatrice's amuse-
ment and asked, "What became of Roberta Jones? How did
she happen to go and leave Ronald here? What are you go-
ing to do about Roberta, Joan? I'll wager she looked daggers
at you before she left."
The girls filled the room with peals of laughter. "Mother,
you must have been hiding behind the door watching or
else you heard us in Joan's room before we went to sleep.
You've figured everything out so closely."
"On my honor, I fell asleep after one of your late songs
and the last I saw of anything was when your father and I
said good night. But I did hit the nail on the head, didn't
I?"
The girls gave her a snickering nod. Adjusting herself
as if to listen to a long, formal report, Mrs. Harrison said,
"Let me in on the dirt. I must keep up with the latest
gossip."
The three women's lively chatter and gay laughter rang
in Mr. Harrison's ears for an hour. He was in the library
trying to read. He gave up and decided he'd go to the base-
ment and play some pool. He'd need an opponent. Henry
would be in the kitchen all day helping Daisy prepare the
turkey and fixings. He'd ask the womenfolk. They should
have talked themselves out by now. He knocked on Bea-
trice's door.
"Good morning, daddy."


116 FALSE MEASURE
efficient bartender but made the drinks too strong. Mrs. Har-
rison held her hand over her glass when Ronald offered her
a third refill. "I've had enough."
His back to the rest, Mr. Harrison was still glued in
front of the radio. Every now and then Oliver or Ronald
would yell out, "What's the score?" or, hearing the cheering,
"Who made the play?" or "How many minutes to play?"
Mrs. Harrison regarded Joan and then Beatrice. Neither
could stop laughing, it appeared, and both were talking
breathlessly. Mrs. Harrison decided they'd had enough. She
put her arms in Joan's and Beatrice's and drew them to her.
"It's near the end of the last quarter. Suppose you girls go
and dress for dinner. Don't take a warm bath. Both of you
need a cold shower." They laughed. "Daddy and I will enter-
tain your young men while you're gone," she added.
There was a striking contrast in the girls' demeanor
when they came down to dinner. No snickering or small
talk. They exuded the decorum usually associated with col-
lege upperclasswomen. Mrs. Harrison noticed the change
from forty-five minutes before and remarked to her husband
at the opposite end of the table, "Maybe it's their dinner
dresses. And the cold showers probably helped."
He nodded and smiled.
Ronald and Oliver seated their ladies at opposite sides
of the table and then sat beside them. Mr. Harrison looked
at Beatrice and then at Joan. "You girls certainly look good
this evening."
In a chorus, the others declared their agreement. Beatrice
was attired in a captivating Nile green satin dress with a
medium low neck. Her necklace was white gold, festooned
with five jeweled flowers of pearls and emeralds. Her ear-
rings were clusters of pearls and emeralds, flower-shaped and
matching her necklace. The earrings and necklace had be-
longed to her maternal grandmother.
Joan was fetchingly garbed in an amethyst velvet dress.
It was snugly belted, accentuating her small waist and mas-
terfully modeled hips. She was wearing a gold necklace. Her
earrings were gold, set with amethyst stones.
Daisy had lit four tall red candles on the table and Henry
was moving from one to another pouring white wine. Mr.


FALSE MEASURE 117
Harrison blessed the table, sharpened his carving knife, and
was stretching his arms to go to work on the huge browned
turkey in front of him when Daisy snapped off the ceiling
light.
"Say, put that light back on," he ordered. "I can't see
to do a good job in this dim candlelight. Furthermore, I
don't want to eat in twilight."
Mr. Harrison asked each what part of the turkey he or
she preferred. When he got to Ronald, Ronald caused a big
laugh and some added comments. Mr. Harrison asked,
"Light or dark meat, Ronald?"
"I don't like dark meat and I only take it when there's
no light meat around, Mr. Harrison."
Everybody laughed. Then Oliver said, "I never even
eat chocolate ice cream."
They laughed again and Mrs. Harrison exclaimed, "Oh,
Oliver, you shouldn't be like that!"
Joan remarked, "Why, I never even drink black coffee."
They all laughed again.
Mr. Harrison comforted them, saying, "It's all right,
Ronald, Oliver, and Joan, there'll be more than enough of
the light meat for you."
Later Ronald said that his sister and father had told him
that since he couldn't stay home for Thanksgiving dinner
they would expect him back after dinner and he was to
bring Beatrice and Joan. Mildred had arranged an im-
promptu gathering after dinner. Beatrice said they had
planned nothing special and she would go if Joan wanted to.
Joan nodded and Oliver said he was sticking with Ronald.
While Henry and Daisy were serving dessert and coffee,
the conversation drifted into a discussion of the European
war.
"The Nazis and the Russians seem to me to be diamet-
rically opposed, economically, politically, and psychologi-
cally," Ronald observed. "Hitler has been ranting against
Russia and Communism since before he became chancel-
lor. His book, Mein Kampf, sets forth that if and when he
became leader in Germany, Russia should be conquered.
Only a few months ago he made a speech that was widely
reported in the world press in which he made known that


FALSE MEASURE 119
clams. Now the Daily Worker is spouting a lot of double-talk
and they're anti-war. They've even suggested that the Brit-
ish and French negotiate a settlement with the Nazis. Get-
ting back to the military mission in Moscow, the British
and French officers sent ostensibly to plan with the Russians
on a vast scale were low echelon, colonels and the like. That
in itself was an affront to the Russians. If they had meant
business, the staffs would have been headed by generals with
broad powers, and colonels and lesser lights as aides. The
Western powers didn't really intend to come to a joint mili-
tary agreement with Russia, and that's the reason they sent
low-ranking officers. Apparently they were sent only as a
sop to appease large groups of people in both England and
France who were anxious that such joint planning be done.
But there were other powerful groups in England and
France who were pro-German and pro-Italian. They were
willing to give the Germans and Italians whatever they
yelled for so long as it didn't encroach upon their empires.
The most potent of the Germanophile and Italophile groups
was the so-called Cliveden Set in England. It had its French
counterpart. The Cliveden Set's views were reflected in gov-
ernmental acts. Their basic philosophy regarding the Ger-
mans was that the expansionist Nazis should be forced east-
ward mainly at Russian expense. The Munich Pact was based
on that thinking. Two darlings of the Cliveden Set were von
Ribbentrop when he was German ambassador and Count
Dino Grandi, the Italian ambassador. The Russians were
keenly aware of this desire by the two Western powers to
force Hitler eastward. And when they sent a military mission
of low-level officers without any powers to negotiate an
agreement, the Russians considered it a meaningless gesture
and quietly came to an agreement with Hitler. They know
Hitler will break it when it suits his fancy but now they'll
have a breathing spell to get ready. Without fail, when Ger-
many fulfills her desires in Western Europe she'll come to
grips with Russia."
Mrs. Harrison asked, "Do you think the United States
should aid Britain and France? That would make us non-
belligerents. Or do you think we should observe strict neu-
trality and not aid either side?"


120 FALSE MEASURE
"By all means we should help England and France," Joan
said.
"I think so too, Joan," Ronald agreed.
Mr. Harrison said, "I think President Roosevelt is
enough of a realist and farsighted enough to plug for a re-
vision of our Neutrality Act so we can aid the Allies. It
would be an example of enlightened self-interest to do so. In
spite of previous cruelties, excesses, and heartless exploita-
tion which were part and parcel of their empire-building, I
feel that England and France are morally in the right in this
present struggle with Germany. Let's assume that we should
deny any help to England and France and that by our not do-
ing so it should enable Hitler to overrun Europe sooner. He
would consolidate his gains and then tackle portions of
North Africa. Bear in mind, he is interested in regaining all
the colonies and territories taken from Germany at Ver-
sailles, besides world hegemony, by a combination of con-
quest and economic freebooting. Next he would take on
Russia. If successful in that venture, allied with Japan, the
Germans could put terrific and unbearable pressures on the
United States. It would be difficult for them to invade us,
but they would control world markets and stifle our trade.
Businessmen would cry out to our government to come to
some agreement with Hitler so they could make money. The
government's hand would be forced and along with trade
agreements, controlled by Germany, would come Nazi eco-
nomic, political, and social doctrines happily accepted by
some here. We as Negroes would suffer more because we
would be driven out of every type of endeavor but menial
tasks. And there would be a rapid acceleration of persecu-
tion of the Jews."
Everyone was very thoughtful after this analysis.
Mr. Harrison looked at his watch and turned to Mrs.
Harrison. "Have you forgotten, dear, we're supposed to go
calling tonight? I think it's time we got going."
The young men thanked Mrs. Harrison for .an excellent
dinner. Ronald said he thought they should be getting over
to his house. He'd promised his sister they'd be there early
and it was almost nine. The girls, Ronald, and Oliver piled


122 FALSE MEASURE
tremely difficult, even if one measured up to their require-
ments. And what were their requirements? First the women:
a fair complexion, good looks, college training, a full ward-
robe of the latest styles, and money enough to do the things
they liked to do, such as entertain frequently, ride horse-
back, have a car of your own or access to one, take in the
latest shows, and so on. As for the men, it wasn't impera-
tive that they look white or near-white but they had better
not be too dark and certainly not black; they had to be at-
tractive and college trained and they had to have enough
pocket money to entertain the girls as the girls expected to
be entertained. Young men and women from out of town
who met the standards were accepted with open arms. Joan
was one of these. But there were Boston youngsters they had
known all their lives whom they would rudely cut and deny
admittance to their set even if these youngsters were born
with the physical requisites and somehow attained the others.
Up-and-coming young people clamored for their companion-
ship, and they knew it. At rare times a striving girl or boy
might be sponsored by one of the social arbiters of their co-
terie, by being taken to one of their affairs, and then they
would have crashed the circle. There were two or three who
could do this and it would be unquestioned. One of these
was Beatrice, but it was hardly probable she ever would. If
one of the arbiters presented someone, the lesser lights in
the closed group would say, "If she or he is a friend of so-and-
so, she or he can be a friend of mine." If one of the lesser
lights sponsored a person, there was a chance that person
might be snubbed. How did the arbiters get that way? In
addition to possessing all the essential qualities of their
group they would be the offspring of successful, college-
trained parents and grandparents. They were conceited and
revealed their self-esteem by making known to all and sun-
dry the achievements of their ancestors, or they maintained
an arrogant bearing.
Ronald came down the steps with his father and there
were cries of "Hello, Mr. Gregory." He stopped here and
there to say a word of greeting or to shake hands. Ronald
led his father to meet Joan who was sitting on a sofa with
Beatrice by the front window.


FALSE MEASURE 123
Beatrice saw them coming and interrupted Joan's con-
versation. "Here comes Mr. Gregory."
Joan looked and exulted. "Gee, he's handsome! Now I
see how Ronald got that way."
Mr. Gregory reached them, shook hands, and exchanged
brief pleasantries with Beatrice. Then Ronald said, "Dad,
meet Joan Turner, the prettiest and one of the smartest girls
you ever met."
They shook hands. Joan directed to Ronald, "How do
you know how smart I am?"
"I've heard you talk and furthermore Beatrice told me
about your achievements at Smith before you got here."
Mr. Gregory said, "I don't know or care about the 'smart'
part of Ronald's statement, but the 'pretty' part is definitely
correct; only I would use a stronger word. I would say you're
'fascinating.'"
Everyone laughed.
"Joan, how about dancing with dad before he leaves. He
only has about fifteen minutes," Ronald explained.
"It seems to me," Joan jested, "that Mr. Gregory is
perfectly capable of making a request of a lady for a dance
himself."
"Will you?" Mr. Gregory smiled.
"Of course," Joan answered.
Ronald danced with Beatrice. Oliver was somewhere in
the other room. A lively record was on and all but the bridge
players were dancing. Mildred ran over and shut off the
record player. The dancers stopped and asked her, "What
did you do that for?"
"Because my daddy's dancing and I want him to dance
to a song he likes." She sat down at the blonde mahogany
grand piano and went into a rhythmic light tune unknown
to most. The partners started moving again.
"It's a song she composed herself," Mr. Gregory ex-
plained to Joan. "I don't think she's put it down on paper
yet. I heard her playing it one day and told her I liked it.
It is a pretty tune, isn't it?"
"It certainly is."
Mr. Gregory led Joan back to her seat and said he would
have a drink with them before he left. He called the white-


124 FALSE MEASURE
coated waiter who was roving about with a tray of drinks.
A maid, uniformed in dainty white cap and apron, was pass-
ing out plates of food. Mildred came over and stood beside
her father and brother. The three Gregorys drank a toast
to Joan and Beatrice. Then Mr. Gregory had to go.
Every night, as often as possible, Mr. Gregory took a
look-in at his two bars and grills. Then besides, there might
be some final checking up to do on his other business, too.
He and Ronald were the same height, but Mr. Gregory was
picking up middle-age fat. His long, black hair was mixed
with gray and was completely white at the temples. He wore
a heavy mustache which his barber trimmed and shaped
daily. His tailor was one of Boston's best and he looked it.
He gave the appearance of a prosperous banker or business-
man. And he was prosperous. Besides a lavish home with
servants there were three automobiles: his daughter's, his
son's, and his own. He never drove his; one of his many em-
ployees always drove him. He kept his business life and his
social life completely separate. Most of the characters who
worked for him or with him in his shady but profitable and
protected enterprises he would not permit to set foot in his
home. He operated by a rigid code from which he never
deviated. Years before, he set his sights high for his children,
and that meant his home life should be beyond reproach —
none of the so-called rabble with whom he did business
would be allowed around. Socially, he had been accepted by
and associated intimately with Boston's colored best. Of this
he was proud. Why, he was even on the friendliest terms
with Mr. Harrison, that prominent lawyer, and the lawyer's
daughter was friendly with his children. Mildred and
Ronald had certainly not let him down. When they were
starting high school, he had told them he had enough money
to send them through high school and college and all he
wanted them to do was study and make it, so that they
wouldn't have it as hard getting started as he did. Maybe
he had overdone it, buying them cars, too many clothes, and
giving them much too much spending money while in
school; but their marks were always above average, his
money came easy, and he felt he should reward them. Why,
Ronald finished high school in three and a half years and


FALSE MEASURE 125
he was now in Harvard Law School after a fine record at
Harvard College. The only reason Mildred wouldn't be
elected to Phi Beta Kappa was that they didn't have a chap-
ter at Howard. "Imagine," he sometimes said to his asso-
ciates, "I never finished grammar school, but I've been able
to provide the wherewithal for my kids to achieve what they
have. They're leaders in one of the most exclusive younger
sets in the East. I'm vain about 'em, don't you think I ought
to be?" Once or twice a year, usually when both children
were in town, he would entertain lavishly at home. All of
Boston's society folk, and they alone, would be there.
Ronald asked Joan to dance. Mildred was fingering a
good number. Joan said, "No indeed."
"A guest in my own house and you refuse to dance with
me?" said Ronald as Beatrice chuckled.
"I've experienced dancing with you once. That was
enough."
"You've been dancing with others," Ronald pleaded.
"They know how to behave themselves and just dance,"
Joan said with finality.
"Let me show you the house," Ronald offered. "You've
only seen these two rooms."
"If Beatrice goes too," replied Joan.
"I've seen the house," interposed Beatrice. "It hasn't
changed since I last looked around."
"Well, if you don't accompany us, I'll sit right here,"
Joan declared. "This rascal will never get me hemmed up
in any of those hidden rooms upstairs."
Pained, Ronald asked, "What sort of man do you think
I am that you won't allow me to show you our home?"
"Oh, I'd like to see it all," Joan observed, "but not with
you alone."
"Come on, for God's sake, I'll go too," Beatrice said.
Joan found the entire house excessively showy and flashy.
They even had another piano in a sitting room on the second
floor. It was a concert grand, ivory-colored to fit the decor of
the room. The whole house had been extravagantly fur-
nished and it was plain that a terrific amount of money had
been spent.
With a sweep of her arm, Joan said to Ronald, "I know


126 FALSE MEASURE
your father must have spent a pretty penny for all of this."
"I guess he did," Ronald replied indifferently.
Walking down one of the wide halls with Beatrice in
front of them, Ronald had slipped his arm around Joan's
waist. She abruptly pulled away from him. His "For God's
sake, I won't harm you," caused Beatrice to stop and regard
them both with a half-smile.
"I know you won't," Joan rejoined, "because I won't let
you."
As soon as they were back downstairs Joan danced with
Oliver. Then Ronald asked her to dance. She gave him a
flat "No," and led him to a seat beside her.
He was disturbed and said, "Joan, I don't think this
funny. I don't know what your purpose is but I do know
it isn't proper for a lady to be out with a man where there's
music and dancing and for the lady to refuse to dance with
him."
"Ordinarily that would be correct," Joan agreed. "But
the last time I danced with you your actions weren't what
they should have been and I don't propose to go through
that again. The next time I dance with you, you'll act like a
gentleman."
His eyes were entreating. "You're not fair, Joan."
"Well, sit here beside me and we can talk," Joan an-
swered.
"I don't want to talk," he said firmly.
"Then go on over there and dance with Roberta,"
snapped Joan.
"You're being impossible, Joan," he sighed. But he kept
his seat beside her.
A young man came over and asked her for a dance. She
excused herself and left Ronald sitting there. When she re-
turned he was still glumly sitting there. She patted his cheek
and said, "Don't take it so hard, my dear." He gave her a
side glance.
When Ronald drove them home he wore a dejected look
and had little to say. Joan was enjoying his reaction to the
way she was handling him. "Don't take it so hard, darling,"
she cooed. He continued looking ahead and didn't reply.
Going up the walk to the Harrisons' front door, Beatrice


FALSE MEASURE 127
and Oliver were in front of them. Joan relented enough to
slip her arm in Ronald's. Then he asked if he could take her
to dinner and a show the next day. She answered, "Yes, if
Beatrice goes."
He stopped and stood off from her. "What the hell! Do
you have to have a chaperone every place you go?"
She put her hands on her hips and stormed, "No man
talks to me like that! Who do you think you're talking to,
Ronald Gregory? Just for that, I won't go. I don't care who
else goes. Now, good night." She walked away from him,
passing Oliver and Beatrice, who had stopped and turned
around at the sudden outburst behind them.
Joan had to wait on the top step for Beatrice to open
the door. Ronald approached the bottom step; he had passed
by the other two who, amused, had asked, "What's the
matter, Ronald?" and he had shrugged his shoulders. Re-
pentant, he said, "Joan, I'm sorry. Will you forgive me? Will
you go tomorrow night?"
Unyielding, Joan answered, "I don't know. Call me to-
morrow and I'll let you know. Now good night again."
"Good night, Joan," he muttered and went back down
the walk. "I'll wait in the car for you," he told Oliver.
"You're certainly being hard on Ronald," Beatrice said
when she and Joan were upstairs preparing for bed.
Thoughtfully, Joan replied, "No, Bea, I'm not being
hard on him. I'm just keeping him at a distance."
"How long do you propose to keep him at a distance?"
"His reactions will determine that. Even now I think he
understands that I expect to be courted properly — that is,
every step of the courtship is to be properly spaced. I just
don't rush headlong into an affair."
"You're giving him some medicine he undoubtedly
hasn't experienced before."
"I think you're right there."
Beatrice added, "It's doing him some good, though, I
believe."
On Friday and Saturday night Joan and Ronald went to
dinner and a show, accompanied by Beatrice and Oliver.
Ronald was the perfect debonair gentleman and made no


FALSE MEASURE 129
she'd be expecting him the next weekend. Elated, he
squeezed her. She said, "Now, now, we're in public." When
the train had pulled out of the station and Joan had settled
herself by the window, she reflected, "Underneath her phony
veneer Beatrice is a warm person and a good companion."


FALSE MEASURE
131
suave manners, and Harvard accent. Soon they were all
crowded into Edwina's car on their way to a roadhouse. It
was a snappy, late fall evening. Joan snuggled up to Ronald,
sitting in the middle next to Edwina, who was driving. "I'm
cold," she said.
He eased his arm over the back of the seat so she could
nestle under it. "I wish it would get twice this cold if it takes
cold weather to make you less fearful of getting close to me."
He patted her shoulder and smiled down at her. Edwina
flicked on the heater and in a few minutes it was cozy.
The roadhouse was small and had a three-piece band.
They took a table near the bandstand. After the third round
of drinks the four girls and Ronald were at home with the
members of the band. Ronald gave them five dollars and
from then on nothing but what they asked for was played.
Two of the girls got up and danced together. Joan told
Ronald to dance with Edwina. She was going to sit this one
out. As Edwina and Ronald glided over the floor, Edwina
said to Ronald, "When we get back to the table ask Joan
to dance with you."
"How did you know there would be any question about
Joan's dancing with me?" Ronald asked, slowing almost to a
stop.
"Let's keep dancing," advised Edwina. "She might notice
and think we're talking about you and her."
They picked up step with the music again and Ronald
said, "Well, answer my question."
"Joan is one of my best friends and, besides, we're room-
mates, so surely you must know we've discussed you. I knew
all about you before you got off that train. Now when we
get back to the table, ask her to dance. If she balks, I'll put
in a word. But one thing, you promise me you'll act like the
gentleman you are! Behave yourself, and dance with her as
you are with me!" She smiled at him.
Ronald danced some pensive steps and then replied,
'How you dance is determined by the cadence of the music."
"Now don't get technical. You understand me thor-
oughly." She laughed. "Will you do as I say?"
"Yes."
When the band struck up the next number, Ronald took


132
FALSE MEASURE
20.
a sip from his glass and held the glass in his hand turning it
around and back as if studying its contents. He leaned over
to Joan and whispered, “Joan, will you please dance with
me?"
She hesitated. “Ronald, those big brown eyes of yours are
either soft or devilish or pleading. Right now they're plead-
ing and it would be cruel of me to say no. Come on, let's
dance!” Edwina smiled.
Joan and Ronald danced through the next three num-
bers without a break. Joan's face was glowing when they
returned to the table. She leaned over and murmured to
Edwina, “He was the perfect partner. Nothing sly. But just
being close to him does things to me. Not like the night I
met him though. I've got everything under control tonight."
“Good girl," Edwina said.
During intermission Ronald played several piano num-
bers, to the delight of everybody in the place. When the
band returned, the four girls were gathered around him,
singing as he played. At the leader's insistence, he stayed on
and played two numbers with the band. Joan said they
might have one more round before they left.
"And one more dance,” Ronald said.
“While the waiter is bringing the drink,” Joan agreed.
When Ronald asked for the check, Joan's three school-
mates said they were determined to pay for their own.
“Four girls on one man isn't fair," they said.
Ronald would have none of it. He told the waiter not
to take their money and paid the check himself.
Joan drove back. Ronald repeatedly admonished her to
"take it easy."
The girls thought his nervousness was amusing. “We've
ridden many miles with Joan,” they declared.
Joan pulled up in front of the guest house. "Here you
are, safe and sound.” She leaned over and gave him a full
kiss on the lips. “See you at nine and show you some of the
campus you couldn't see in the dark,” she told him.
"We've got another roadhouse to take you to tomorrow
night,” Doris said.
“Good night, everybody,” said Ronald. “It's been a very
pleasant evening."


FALSE MEASURE 133
"Good night, Ronald."
"Gee, he's a cute guy," Joan's friends asserted.
Ronald and Joan breakfasted together the next morning.
Then they stepped out into the bright sunshine to tour the
campus. Joan looked him up and down and told him he
already looked like a handsome, prosperous lawyer. He was
wearing a perfectly fitted box-backed dark blue overcoat,
dark gray trousers showing below it. His blue-and-white
scarf of a fuzzy wool material was wrapped tightly and
formed a v on his chest. His black shoes glistened. His gray
homburg had a small tilt, at exactly the right angle. One
gray suede glove was off, held by the other. The fresh, close
shave had given his full face a pinkish tinge.
Joan took his arm. "Let's start walking. This place isn't
as big as Harvard but it'll take us a long time to cover every-
thing on the campus."
They went in and out of the gym, the library, classroom
buildings, labs, and lecture halls, crisscrossing the campus.
Every few feet, whether inside a building or outside, they
were stopped by someone Joan knew. It meant introducing
Ronald each time and standing and talking awhile. The
girls would turn around and look at Ronald when he and
Joan walked away. They were halted by several professors
and instructors and they ran into Dean Ferguson, who held
them for a long conversation. She talked with Ronald of
people she knew at Harvard. She told him they were proud
of Joan at Smith. He said he was proud of her too. Then
she told Joan that her visitor was very attractive. When they
were walking off she called them back and reminded Joan
of her tea on Sunday afternoon.
"Bring Mr. Gregory," she said.
He thanked her but said he would have to leave in mid-
afternoon to get back to Boston. Joan said she would be
there.
As soon as they left Dean Ferguson, Adrienne hailed
them and came running. "Where have you been, Joan? I
haven't seen you since before Thanksgiving."
"Where have you been?" Joan asked. "I've been right
here."
"Well, I didn't get back until Thursday. I went home


FALSE MEASURE
135
the wrong foot, trying to be too much the storybook version
of the Southern belle and it rubbed the girls the wrong way.
I like her a lot, in spite of what others see in her. As room-
mates, we got along swell. She's wanted to be closer to me
than I've wanted. She's sometimes very dull. My two closest
friends, Edwina and Doris, can't stand her. Doris asked her
if she knows that ante-bellum days are over. I'll have a prob-
lem at Christmas. Edwina and Doris are spending part of
the Christmas holidays with me and will be there when
Adrienne comes. She's been trying to visit me for three
Christmases now so I guess I can't get out of it this time."
"I can understand why she likes to be around you. Peo-
ple like her sometimes like to be around others who are
pretty, lively, and popular. They relish the vicarious enjoy-
ment they get from being around and watching people like
you and knowing what your activities are. She undoubtedly
respects your scholastic attainments too. By the way, will
you have room enough for another visitor Christmas? Seems
like you have a full house already."
"That isn't all. My aunt will be there from Columbus
and maybe my grandfather. We have a good-sized house, but
I can count five holiday guests already."
"Oh, I can stay at a hotel."
"I didn't say you could come yet," Joan teased.
"Well, if I may."
"I'll let you know."
"Before I leave this weekend?"
"Perhaps."
Joan walked Ronald back to the guest house after lunch.
She had some work to prepare for Monday and after he left
Sunday afternoon she'd be at the dean's tea, so she'd better
do it this afternoon. Ronald welcomed the break, he said,
because he had brought along three books that he had to go
through before Monday morning. He had read some on the
train coming over, would read until she was free again, and
would finish up on the way back to Boston.
"See you at six," she told him.
When Joan got to her room she found Edwina and a
crowd of girls blaring swing records and dancing. Joan stood


136 FALSE MEASURE
in the doorway, arms akimbo. "Who in hell could study in
this bedlam?"
They yelled her down. "With a man like that visiting
her she's worrying about studying!"
One said, "Where is he now? We'll go get him and look
after him while you're busy."
"Yes," the others chorused.
"It won't do you any good because he's studying too,"
snapped Joan good-naturedly.
"My, my, both of them are scholars," the girls howled.
Edwina interposed, "Oh, we'll get him tonight."
"Over my dead body," Joan laughed.
"So now you're melting?" Edwina asked.
"Maybe." Joan snatched her two books and stormed out.
"I'm going to the library, where it's quiet."
They all laughed. Joan reached the sidewalk in front of
the dorm and discovered she had the wrong books. She re-
turned to her room and the girls screamed, "That man's
got you confused!"
Joan told them to "shut up and go to hell," to their
added mirth, and departed again.
After dinner, and following some hours of merriment
at the guest house with Ronald, the girls and Ronald piled
into Edwina's car and started for a roadhouse thirty miles
away. Edwina was at the wheel going, but Ronald vowed
he'd be at the wheel on the return trip because, he said, wom-
en drove carelessly enough when completely sober; after
a few drinks caution was thrown to the winds. The girls dis-
agreed but consented that he drive back.
At the roadhouse they managed to get their usual table
near the bandstand. The orchestra was a name band with a
male crooner. Ronald started off by giving ten dollars to the
crooner, who put it in the orchestra "pot." From then on
their requests were promply honored. Doris craftily told the
orchestra leader that Ronald was an accomplished pianist.
During intermission they had Ronald on the stand playing
and singing through the microphone. Then all the girls,
with five highballs under their belts, joined him around the
piano. When the orchestra returned, the leader kept Ronald
at the piano and Doris sang a solo. The leader announced


FALSE MEASURE 137
over the microphone that Ronald had been invited to be-
come an alternate pianist and featured artist during the
summer months. The audience applauded and demanded
another number from Ronald. He obliged. Leaving the
bandstand, he told the leader he'd keep his offer under ad-
visement. Back at the table he stated to the girls that it ap-
peared that they seemed to take over every roadhouse or club
they went to. Doris said that with him along, the entertain-
ment they could give was better than most of the corny pro-
fessionals could offer. Besides, they enjoyed it.
Ronald danced so often with Joan that the other girls,
who had been dancing together, objected, and then he was
passed around. Edwina whispered to Joan, "You seem to be
dancing with Ronald tonight without any problems arising."
"I think I've got him under control now," Joan an-
swered.
On the drive back, with Ronald at the wheel, Joan rested
her head on his shoulder and went to sleep. The other girls
dozed, too. Ronald shouted once, "Will you girls wake up
and keep me company on this long drive? I might make a
wrong turn."
They opened their eyes, mumbled, and drifted off again.
The same crew was at the station on Sunday afternoon
to see Ronald off. They were bedecked in their afternoon
dresses, ready for the dean's tea, after saying goodbye to
Ronald. They embraced him when the train pulled in. Joan
kissed him warmly. When he was climbing the steps to his
car she asked, "How do you like my school compared to
Mount Holyoke?"
"Why compared to Mount Holyoke?"
"Roberta Jones. She's at Mount Holyoke and I'm sure
you must have been there."
"Yes, I've been there, but believe me, I didn't enjoy it
as I've enjoyed this weekend here with you."
"At least it's nice to hear you say it," Joan answered. The
train started moving.
"I'll write you tomorrow," he called. "By the way," he
remembered, "may I visit you Christmas? You promised to
tell me today."
She nodded coyly but enthusiastically. "Of course, silly."


138 FALSE MEASURE
On their way to the dean's affair one girl remarked, "He
certainly is a swell guy."
Doris added, kidding, "You'd better be nice to him, Joan,
we know his address."
"Oh, you shut up," replied Joan pleasantly.
The day before Christmas, in late afternoon, Mr. Turner
was in Northampton to drive his daughter home for the
holidays. At Joan's direction he had come up alone because
she was going to have so many bags there would probably
be little room for any other riders. Mr. Turner looked at
the valises, bags, hat boxes, and loose coats he and the porter
were supposed to carry to his car. "Joan, one would think
your vacation is going to last for months. All this stuff. And
before you come back you'll buy more. Your Aunt Agnes
came in this afternoon and I know you and she will get your
heads together."
"She's there already?" Joan asked, elated.
"Yes, she flew into New York and took a train to Spring-
field. Your grandfather's there too."
"You know, I haven't seen him for about ten years."
"He hasn't changed much. You'll remember him. In fact,
he hasn't changed a bit, unless it's for the worse."
"What do you mean by that, daddy?"
"You'll see. C'mon, porter, let's get all these things down-
stairs and in the car."
Doris came in as Mr. Turner was picking up the last
armload. She said she was taking a train to New York in time
to make plane connections for Chicago. Joan told her she'd
be expecting her after Christmas. She told Joan she'd be in
Springfield with bells on, and Edwina, who had left earlier
for the drive to Bangor, had said definitely that she'd be in
Springfield the day Doris got there.
"Give my love to your parents. I'll be looking for you."
They kissed and Doris said, "Goodbye, Mr. Turner. Give
my love to Mrs. Turner and tell her we'll try not to make
too much noise during our visit."
"I'll bet!" Mr. Turner laughed.


FALSE MEASURE 139
On the drive to Springfield Joan told her father about
Ronald. It was easier to talk to her father about such things
than it was to her mother. He was more frank and under-
standing and viewed the conventional taboos in a modern
perspective.
"I think I love him, or will, if I see much more of him,"
she confided.
"That's a normal procedure, for a young, pretty girl to
fall in love," her father assured her. "There are several steps
in sequence to a developing love affair. Don't run up the
steps too rapidly, and don't let him hasten you. When you
reach the top step, make certain in your own mind that he
wants to and intends to stay there with you and to look down
on the others who might be available to him to rush up those
same steps faster than you would. I think I'm a modern
father, in the sense I understand that when a healthy, lively
girl reaches her twentieth year there are certain natural
urges that are stimulated when the right male comes along.
I think I should emphasize this: be cautious, make him be
the same, and I believe you'll be all right. I know you're
intelligent and mature enough to understand everything I've
said."
"Daddy, I love you." She kissed his cheek. He wanted to
caress his daughter but wouldn't take his eyes off the road.
"I finally consented to let him visit me during the holidays.
After you've seen him I want you to tell me sincerely what
you think of him, that is, as a boy friend for me. Will you?"
Joan asked her father.
"I certainly will. And if he's in Springfield a few days
I'll sound him out in some ways that you couldn't."
"Thank you, daddy." She slouched in the seat in deep
thought. Meditatively, not expecting a reply, she said, "You
know, daddy, he wrote me three times weekly since he
visited me at school. I didn't answer all his letters, I didn't
have the time."
Mr. Turner didn't comment. He knew she was rumi-
nating. Rolling along, Mr. Turner noticed that Joan had
been silent for some minutes. He glanced at her and saw that
she wasn't dozing but was just in quiet thought with her eyes
wide open. He brought her out of her lethargy with, "You're


140 FALSE MEASURE
having a lot of guests during the holidays. Your mother and
I have been making arrangements to accommodate them all.
Dr. and Mrs. Williams have promised to take any of the
overflow."
"That's good," said Joan, straightening up. "Ronald can
stay with them and all the girls can stay with us."
"That'll just about make it right, because your grand-
father and aunt will take two spare rooms. Two of the girls
will take another and one girl will have to share your room."
"That arrangement will be perfect, daddy." Joan sud-
denly slapped her hand to her forehead. "Oh, my God, I
forgot! Beatrice is coming from Vassar. How did I ever for-
get with as nice a weekend as she gave me in Boston, Thanks-
giving? That's one more we've got to arrange for. And I'll
wager Oliver will come trailing down here after her, and
that'll be still another."
Mr. Turner patted her and told her she needn't worry,
they'd arrange everything somehow.
Mrs. Turner and Aunt Agnes had timed Mr. Turner's
trip. At the window, they saw the headlights round the
corner; peering into the darkness, they were certain it was
their Joan when the headlights stopped in front of their
door and the outlines of the car were flooded by the street
lamp. They ran out into the chill winter night without hats
or coats. Joan leaped from the car and swung on the necks
of both at once, kissing one and then the other. They fairly
carried her up the steps and onto the porch, she with arms
around their necks and they with theirs around her waist.
Mr. Turner called to them, "Say, listen, if everyone takes
one or two of these bags and boxes we can get this stuff in-
side in a hurry."
He had both car doors open and the trunk too, and was
placing bags on the sidewalk. Hearing the commotion
through the open door, Grandfather Turner had come from
the rear and was standing in the doorway. Joan fervently
embraced him. He took some backward steps to look her up
and down.
"My, my," he said, "what a change ten years can bring
about."


142 FALSE MEASURE
Mrs. Turner and Aunt Agnes smiled. "You haven't seen
anything yet, father."
The Turners hired a full-time maid for the holiday
season. With Joan having so many visitors, it would be too
much work for Mrs. Turner. Even though Aunt Agnes was
there, since she hired folks to do her housework at home, it
couldn't be expected that she'd vigorously jump into house-
work and cooking there.
The women chatted while Joan was served her late
dinner at the dining room table. Grandpa Turner had taken
a seat in a chair against the wall and frequently threw in his
comments. At one point he threw the women into temporary
amazed silence. "Joan, you look like, act like, and talk like
a high-society white woman. To tell you the truth, you're
more refined than those I come in contact with every day
and they think they're North Carolina's best. They oughta
see you."
After some deliberation Joan said, "They'll never see me
in your part of the country. If they want to see me, they'll
have to come up this way, to my bailiwick."
Grandpa said, "Now look, granddaughter, the South isn't
as bad as you might think it is. It's all right where I am.
Colored folks just have to stay in their place. I can get along
with the white folks."
"What place?" Joan asked. "And who wants to get along
with them the way you do?"
"The place white folks cut out for them."
Joan replied indignantly, "Nobody cuts out any place
for me or any of my friends and I'm not interested in places
and people that do."
Mrs. Turner patted Joan's hand. "Don't be impatient
with your grandfather. He has some ingrained Southern
ideas."
Aunt Agnes was glowering at him but keeping her
tongue. Mr. Turner came downstairs after carrying up the
last of Joan's luggage and noticed the strained silence.
"What's the matter? Why's everybody so quiet?" he asked.
Nobody answered so he asked, "Well?"
Then Aunt Agnes answered, "Father's again about to go


144 FALSE MEASURE
of outsiders are bringing pressure on us for having separate
schools," they would say. "With a Negro president arguing
for the retention of our system the mouths of some of these
Northern Negro and white radicals who are going into court
talking about our inferior colored schools and demanding
equalization of salaries, might be stilled, or at least blunted."
Grandpa would persist, "Well, why did you have to pick,
one so black?"
"Well, Uncle Bob, he does have a couple of degrees and
if he goes off somewhere making speeches and appearing be-
fore state or congressional committees, saying what we want
him to say, we don't want any question as to his race. They'll
be able to look at him and tell."
Grandpa would say he was ready to retire because he
wasn't in the habit of reporting to Negroes and he didn't see
why he should start at his age. They would say, "Now, Bob,
don't do that. How do you think this school could be run
without you here to keep the colored maintenance men on
the ball?"
And he would answer, "Well, I'll stick around a while
longer and see what happens."
Nobody knew exactly how old grandpa was. He had
white hair, a heavy mustache, and was spry for his years. In
the Louisiana parish where he was born, no bureau of vital
statistics existed when his mother brought him into the
world. He was taught early by his mother that there were
three groups of people in the area: the whites, the dark Ne-
groes, and the Negroes who looked like whites. The latter
discriminated against the dark Negroes, and the whites dis-
criminated against and segregated them both, although some
whites would grant the fair Negroes a higher status. Red-
headed, blue-eyed, and freckle-faced, his appearance put him
in the latter group. His schooling was meager. As a young
man he migrated to North Carolina and got the mainte-
nance job shortly after the school was founded. He was proud
that he looked white and he married a woman just as white-
looking as he was. He had two children and he was happy
they were white-looking too. His wife died two years after
the second child, Agnes, was born. He never married again.
He sent both of his children to Hampton and Agnes went


FALSE MEASURE 145
from there to Ohio State University. Grandpa patted him-
self on the back for what he had done for his children and
he didn't fail to remind them of it from time to time. All
his life he had been taking low for "white folks," and was
dependent on the white folks' good will. It had become in-
grained in him that they were better and that Negroes were
supposed to be diffident in their presence. However, he con-
sidered himself the equal to, if not better than, the most
accomplished Negro — there wasn't any question about it
if the Negro was dark. He hadn't yet learned that it took
more than plain color alone to make an upper-class Negro.
That might have been the situation in his day but not today.
The prevalent Southern feudal notion that unless born with
the "right blood" one was inferior and remained so all one's
life, achievements notwithstanding, grandpa had accepted
with no thought of challenge and had molded his life to fit
that pattern. Anybody who took exception to his views had
an argument on his hands.
The difference between grandpa's philosophy and that of
his children was that they considered themselves as good as
any whites and better than most. Grandpa was nothing but a
white-looking, fairly literate Uncle Tom in the eyes of his
Northern relatives. No longer a chattel slave, he was still a
psychological slave.
In the station, after Beatrice and Joan had hugged and
kissed and Mr. Turner had been introduced, he noted two
porters waiting for instructions. "I'll be darned! I just got
through sweating over a carload of Joan's luggage and here
you are with another load!" He shook his head. "What in
the world do you young women do with so many clothes?"
Beatrice and Joan laughed.
"You've got three more female guests coming. Am I
going to have to go through this every time one of their
trains pulls in?" he asked good-naturedly.
"No," Joan answered. "Ronald will be here and we'll
make him do it."
"Is Ronald here yet?" Beatrice asked.
"No, but he'll be in sometime tonight. Three of my


146 FALSE MEASURE
schoolmates are also coming. But they won't get here until
a couple of days after Christmas. They'll stay here over New
Year's and we'll go back to school together."
"You'll really have a full house. And do you know Oliver
said he's coming down? I told him to get in touch with you
first, but I bet he comes down with Ronald."
"That'll be all right. Ronald and Oliver can stay with
Dr. and Mrs. Williams. They said they'll accommodate my
overflow guests."
"I know them. I met them in Boston."
Mr. Turner and grandpa hauled Beatrice's bags to her
room and Joan sat with her while she refreshed herself.
While Beatrice was being served dinner, Mrs. Turner, Aunt
Agnes, and Joan sat with her and planned sleeping arrange-
ments. Beatrice would share her room with Doris, Edwina
would sleep with Joan, and Adrienne would share Aunt
Agnes' room. (Joan didn't want Adrienne to share a room
with Doris or Edwina. There would be friction enough be-
tween them without that.) Grandpa was assigned the third-
floor dormer room. He had again taken a seat in the back-
ground and, puffing on his pipe, was repeatedly interjecting
remarks. Several times he had said, "Yes, ma'am," to Bea-
trice. Joan noticed it and glared at him. She detected diffi-
dence in his tone.
Mr. Turner, who was sitting in the next room, had ob-
served Joan. He got up. "Come on, father, let's go in the
back and leave the ladies to themselves." Grandpa objected.
Mr. Turner said, "There's something back there you like."
Then grandpa lost no time in getting to the kitchen.
"It must be bourbon," Joan said.
Joan and her grandfather were going to lock horns, Mr.
Turner thought, but he wanted to postpone it as long as
possible. He'd have to watch grandpa.
Aunt Agnes told Beatrice that she would like to have her
niece come to see her more often but she had so much
trouble getting Joan to come out to Columbus. For that rea-
son, every now and then she had to pick up and come East
to see her. "She may be her mother's and father's child, but
I consider her half mine." She looked at Joan affectionately.


FALSE MEASURE 147
"I know she's doing well at school and writes often, but I
still like to see her."
"Aunt Agnes, you know I simply can't stand your town
and you know why."
"Yes, I know. Maybe Beatrice and some of your other
friends could come out with you sometime and then you'd
enjoy it better," Aunt Agnes suggested.
"That might be fun," Beatrice smiled.
"It wasn't a lack of companions. I have some good friends
out there. It's the prevailing Southern attitudes that bother
me," Joan explained.
"Yes, I know," sighed Aunt Agnes.
"The evening's getting along and we have a tree to deco-
rate," Mrs. Turner remembered. She had Mr. Turner and
grandpa bring in the tall, full Christmas tree. Mr. Turner
had to snip off part of the top so it wouldn't scrape the liv-
ing room ceiling and would allow for the electric star. All
hands joined in decorating the tree. The two men had made
the base of the tree firm in its stand. Mrs. Turner stood off
a few steps and directed the others in placing the decora-
tions. Grandpa brought in a ladder and Mr. Turner climbed
up to set the star on top. Beatrice was standing in a chair.
Aunt Agnes and Joan worked from the floor. Mr. Turner
ran grandpa back into the kitchen to the bottle of bourbon
and warned him to leave the maid alone. Grandpa was an
old devil.
In the midst of the tree-decorating, Ronald arrived.
Everything was temporarily suspended. Joan ran over to him
and he held her in his arms, rubbing his cold face against
her cheek.
"Gosh, you're cold," she exclaimed.
"I had the window down," he said. "A long trip with the
heater on and the windows closed makes me drowsy. Besides,
it's dangerous."
Beatrice came over to him and he kissed her cheek. He
was all smiles and exuberance. He was introduced to Aunt
Agnes, Mrs. Turner, and Mr. Turner, who shook hands with
him warmly. Hearing the noise of a new entrant, grandpa
came from the kitchen. He told Ronald he'd better come to


148 FALSE MEASURE
the rear with him and get something to warm himself up.
Ronald said he'd keep the offer in mind.
Joan asked him about the trip down. He replied it was
snowing heavily when he left Boston and they would cer-
tainly have a white Christmas there. Oliver? He had wanted
to leave with Ronald but in deference to his mother's wishes
was going to stay in Boston until the day after Christmas.
Oliver had told him to ask Joan if it would be all right for
him to come down and also to make arrangements for him to
stay somewhere. Joan said that everything had been taken
care of; he and Oliver would stay at the Williamses'.
Mrs. Turner told Joan that even though she had alerted
Dr. and Mrs. Williams, she had better call them again and
tell them Ronald was there and would be around later.
Where was Mildred? She was driving up from Washington.
Ronald had talked with her by phone and she was going to
stay in New York overnight. She was to leave New York in
the morning and would stop in Springfield to say hello on
her way to Boston. Their father wanted one of them to be
home on Christmas Day so Mildred said she'd drive on
through and get there at least by Christmas afternoon. Mr.
Gregory had asked Ronald to stay until the day after Christ-
mas, but he wanted to be near Joan and his father had under-
stood. Ronald looked at Joan with tender fondness in his
eyes and when their eyes met, the Turners caught it.
They were all sitting in the living room now. Grandpa
had gone back to his bourbon. The maid had left so Mrs.
Turner said she'd go and fix something for Ronald to eat.
Meanwhile, the others could carry on with the tree. Ronald
climbed up on the ladder and Mr. Turner took over Mrs.
Turner's position, directing the placing of decorations. Ron-
ald promptly dropped a Christmas tree ball which shattered
when it hit the floor. Mr. Turner playfully said, "That's the
first casualty. Young man, if you're too nervous to handle
that job you better turn it over to someone who hasn't got
somebody here to make them jittery." Joan regarded her
father out of the corner of her eye and smiled. The others
laughed, looking at Joan and then up at Ronald. He
blushed.
Mrs. Turner came in and called Ronald. When she had


FALSE MEASURE 149
seen him seated she returned to the living room. Joan ceased
what she was doing to go sit with Ronald while he ate. To
everybody's loud amusement, Mrs. Turner said, "Come back,
young lady, and let's finish this tree. He can be away from
you long enough to get some nourishment." Joan sheepishly
picked up where she had left off. Mrs. Turner called her
aside. "I knew you wouldn't have time to do any Christ-
mas shopping. I bought some extra inexpensive items on
which you can place cards and give to your friends."
"Mother, you're so sweet and thoughtful," Joan whis-
pered and hugged her. "I had planned to do some shopping
the day after Christmas for the girls and Ronald."
"You still might have to because what I bought, with no
particular person in mind, might not satisfy you."
"We'll see," said Joan.
Joan and her mother went upstairs to bring down the
wrapped gifts which Mrs. Turner had hidden in a closet.
Among the extras Joan found a combination cigarette case
and lighter which would be good for Ronald.
"Mother, didn't you say these extra gifts were inexpen-
sive?" Joan asked.
"I know your tastes and that's what I thought you might
consider them."
"Well, I don't know what you paid for this case but it
certainly isn't inexpensive."
"I won't tell you either."
Joan meditated over the gifts. "I believe Beatrice
brought me something more attractive and costly than these
others so I'd better plan to match her gift. I'll tell her hers
is coming later. And I've got to buy something for Adrienne,
Doris, and Edwina. I know they'll bring me some fancy
gifts. Then there's the family to shop for. The day after
Christmas will be busy for me."
"Suit yourself," Mrs. Turner said. "Now put a card on
that one for Ronald and let's get these things downstairs."
"Gee, mother, we need somebody to help us."
"Oh, come on, it won't hurt you to make two or three
trips."
Mrs. Turner supervised placing the gifts under the tree.
Then artificial snow, cotton, and tinsel were sprinkled on


150 FALSE MEASURE
top of everything. They switched off the lights and turned on
the blinking Christmas tree bulbs, and all stood off and ob-
served the fruit of their labor. The glistening, multicolored
tree balls, the tinsel and artificial snow gave the tree an ap-
pearance of actually having been snowed on, with little drop-
lets of melted snow on the fixtures.
"That's pretty," they all said.
"Mother, let's pull back the drapes and raise the blind
so it can be seen from the street," Joan suggested.
"Just pull back one side of the drapes and open the
blind. That's enough."
But Joan raised the blind all the way. "Let's go out and
see how it looks from the street."
She and Beatrice with their coats around their shoulders,
and Ronald without his, went out and walked up the block
and back to check the appearance from the street. They were
satisfied and Joan told her mother it looked gorgeous. Ron-
ald was shivering when they came back in; Mr. Turner led
him to the kitchen and deprived grandpa of the bourbon
long enough to give Ronald a big drink which he quaffed
in one gulp.
Pleased with the evening's biggest job, Mrs. Turner pro-
posed that they listen to some carols and put on a record.
Beatrice said that Ronald could play and they all could sing.
Ronald asked Mrs. Turner if she would rather have live
music.
"Yes, indeed," she answered and shut off the record
player.
Joan opened the piano and stood by while Ronald ran
his fingers up and down the keys in some trial notes. "Nice
tone," he said to Joan. He shifted his position, checked the
foot pedals, and struck up the opening bars of "Silent Night"
in a style that Joan had come to know and like so well. She
smiled down at him. He stopped and turned to the others.
"Let's all sing."
Mrs. Turner, Aunt Agnes, and Beatrice went over to
the piano and Ronald began again. The women's voices
joined harmoniously with Ronald's. Mr. Turner was sitting
in a chair on the other side of the room. When the first song
was over he clapped and said they ought to open the win-


FALSE MEASURE 151
dows so the neighbors could hear. Ronald went into "Noel"
and followed that with "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing."
Mr. Turner had been humming in his chair at a distance.
Joan called her father to join them.
"You used to sing in the church choir, daddy, so you'll
make it sound even better."
Standing behind Ronald, Mr. Turner lent his rich bass
to the women's sopranos and contraltos and Ronald's tenor.
Ronald moved into "Adeste Fideles."
Grandpa had been half dozing in the kitchen over his
bottle. The melodious notes ringing in his ears brought him
to. He felt his way into the living room on unsteady legs
and broke into the song with deep-throated dissonance. Mr.
and Mrs. Turner ushered him to a chair with the admoni-
tion that he was not to spoil the music. Joan wanted to know
if he thought this was a barroom or a barber shop quartet.
Ronald said, "Don't be harsh with the old man. After all,
it is Christmas Eve."
When Ronald went into another song, Beatrice slipped
upstairs and came down with two packages which she placed
under the tree. She shook a cautioning finger at Joan, who
had observed her, telling her she wasn't to touch a thing un-
til morning. Mrs. Turner warned everyone that they weren't
to go near the bottom of that tree until Christmas morning.
Mr. Turner called to everyone's attention that he had
worked part of the day in his shop, had driven to North-
ampton and back, and had hauled a lot of luggage, so he
was thinking about getting some sleep. But first he would
take Ronald to Dr. Williams' house.
"One more song," Mr. Turner said.
"Name it," said Ronald.
"'O Little Town Of Bethlehem,'" answered Mr. Turn-
er. He liked the way that one sounded so much, he said,
"Let's do an encore on that one." Their coats on, ready to
go, he said, "Ronald, tomorrow night or any other night
you're here, you won't have to leave so early — that will be
up to the girls. But since it's late and you don't know the
way, I'm the only one who can show you where you're going
to sleep."
Ronald said good night to Mrs. Turner, Aunt Agnes, and


152 FALSE MEASURE
Beatrice. Grandpa didn't respond. He was asleep in a chair-
Ronald and Joan clasped hands discreetly and Joan asked
him to come by early next morning.
Ronald trailed Mr. Turner to the Williams house. Dr.
Williams answered the bell. "Fred," Mr. Turner said,
"here's your house guest, Ronald Gregory. Hope we didn't
keep you up waiting. We've been singing carols and the
time got away from us."
"Oh, no," Dr. Williams smiled, "We just finished our
tree and those blinking wreaths you see in the windows the
missus put up just two minutes ago. Come in, Ronald, and
make yourself at home. Are you coming in for a minute,
Turner?"
"No, Fred, I'll see you tomorrow. Tell the wife good
night and merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Turner."
"See you in the morning, Ronald. Think you can find
your way back without getting lost?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. Turner, and thanks again."
Dr. Williams helped Ronald bring in his bags. "Just put
them here in the hall, hang up your coat, and come meet
Mrs. Williams."
Dr. and Mrs. Williams lived in a spick-and-span, two-
story white fieldstone and frame house which they had had
built to order three years before. The entrance was ap-
proached by a semi-circular walk which divided off a por-
tion of the small lawn into a half-moon. Ingress to the walk
was at either end of the lot. The house was on a corner and
the attached garage exited on the side street. Fastened to
the wall on each side of the entrance were replicas of old-
fashioned gas street lights. There was a shining brass knocker
on the front door; when raised, electric current caused
chimes to sound off at two locations in the house. The rooms
were medium sized and had been furnished with discrim-
inatingly modest taste. Wall-to-wall carpeting throughout
the house gave an added impression of tranquil coziness and
comfort.
Dr. and Mrs. Williams had no children. A "sleep-out"
maid came daily and did all the cooking and cleaning. Dr.
Williams had been practicing dentistry in Springfield more


FALSE MEASURE
153
than twenty years, since his graduation from Columbia
University Dental School. When he started out, his office
was in his home. In five years he had moved his home away
from his office to a house he purchased. When it was paid
for, he invested in commercial properties and lastly, he and
Mrs. Williams decided they would build a house to their
own specifications.
Mrs. Williams had her middle-age stoutness corseted. She
wore her long gray hair done up at the back of her head.
She had an extra long, prominent, sharp nose. She was
soft-voiced and possessed a quiet, refined dignity. Her fold-
ing glasses hung on a thin gold chain around her neck. Dr.
Williams was stout, half bald, and graying. Both were light-
complexioned, but not quite so white-looking as many of
their friends.
When Dr. Williams walked into the living room with
Ronald, Mrs. Williams was surveying the tree she and her
husband had just finished decorating. She was touching a
branch here and there, moving some tinsel from one place to
another, and adjusting a blinking light. Dr. Williams stood
with Ronald a few seconds watching her and then said,
"Meet one of our guests, Josephine."
She uttered a startled "Oh! I didn't even hear you come
in." She greeted Ronald and told him to make himself com-
pletely at home. "Where is the other young man?" she
asked. "Joan told me there would be two."
"That's Oliver. He won't be down from Boston for an-
other day or two," Ronald explained.
"When he gets here we'll be able to take care of him,"
Mrs. Williams said. "You see, we don't have any children of
our own and we do like to have young folks around, es-
pecially at Christmas time." She smiled and turned her head
toward the tree.
Ronald thought he detected a trace of wistfulness in her
smile.
"Fred, why don't you show Ronald up to his room and
help him get his things upstairs. Then he can come down
and I'll fix him a little snack." She turned to Ronald. "I
know you must be tired after your drive from Boston and


154 FALSE MEASURE
then they must have kept you busy at the Turners', decorat-
ing the tree and all."
"No, I'm not particularly tired. We had fun decorating
the tree and then I played the piano for the singing of
Christmas carols."
Dr. Williams pointed to the baby grand and said that
neither he nor his wife could play, that it hadn't been
touched for a long time. Ronald would have to play at
least one Christmas carol for them even if it was late. But
first he was to get settled upstairs, Mrs. Williams suggested.
Ronald's room had twin beds and there was a small radio
on the night table between. The bedspreads and drapes
were in matching soft pastels. There were two chests of
drawers and ample closet space.
Ronald sat in one of the armchairs and his eyes roamed
the room. Everything was so neat and meticulously cared
for, he thought. It all appeared as though it had been moved
in that very morning, yet it hadn't. He opened his bags,
hung up his suits, and put his shirts and other things in
the drawers. Then he started downstairs, observing every-
thing carefully as he went. There were three bedrooms, a
bathroom for two, and the master bedroom with its private
bath. How he would like, someday, to have a small home
like this of his own, he thought. His father's house was too
big and gaudy and overfurnished. Everybody he knew had
a nice home. But this one was it! Not too much and still not
too little. .
Ronald looked in the living room, but the Williamses
weren't there. He called out, "Dr. Williams."
"Out here, Ronald," came the doctor's voice. One moved
about that house so noiselessly it was impossible to locate a
person unless you heard voices, Ronald discovered; they
were in the kitchen with the swinging door pulled to. There
was no way they could have heard him descend the stairs and
walk through the house.
Mrs. Williams had prepared a cold snack. When Ronald
stepped into the modernistic, all-electric kitchen, she said,
"Sit right down here, Ronald, and eat to your heart's
content."


FALSE MEASURE 155
"I'm not very hungry, Mrs. Williams. Mrs. Turner gave
me such a large dinner."
"Do you want something to help your appetite along?"
Dr. Williams inquired.
Ronald cleared his throat and grinned. "I don't think
I'd object, Dr. Williams."
Dr. Williams went to the basement and came back with
a dusty bottle of scotch. While he was gone Ronald asked
Mrs. Williams if she minded if he didn't touch a mouthful
until he tasted what the doctor had gone after. She told him
to take his time if that would make his food taste better.
Dr. Williams dusted off the bottle. When he popped out
the cork, Ronald said, "Ahhh!"
"Water or soda, Ronald?"
"Soda, please."
"Are you going to have one, Josephine?"
"Just a little, with lots of ice, and fill it up with soda."
"Here, Ronald, is a glass with ice and there's the soda.
You pour your own. I might make it too light for you."
"Thank you, Dr. Williams." Ronald poured generously.
They raised their glasses and Ronald said, "To Mrs. Wil-
liams."
Mrs. Williams took a sip and put her glass down. Dr.
Williams told Ronald to have another. "You don't waste
any time with a drink."
Ronald refilled his glass and raised it. "To Dr. and Mrs.
Williams."
That one downed, Mrs. Williams cautioned him to eat
before he drank any more.
The Williamses sat at the table with Ronald as he ate,
Mrs. Williams occasionally sipping her original drink and
Dr. Williams finishing his and pouring another. They talked
of school and mutual friends in Boston and elsewhere. At
length Mrs. Williams excused herself. Then Ronald and Dr.
Williams had one more drink together. Mrs. Williams re-
turned and said it was getting later than late but she still
wanted to hear Ronald play one Christmas carol.
They moved to the living room and Ronald, seating
himself at the piano, asked, "What'll it be?"
"'Silent Night,' " Mrs. Williams replied.


156 FALSE MEASURE
Ronald rendered the song in his usual expert manner.
"That was excellent, Ronald. Now one more of your
own choosing," she said.
Ronald played "The First Noel."
"You're better than a whole lot of professionals I've
heard," Dr. Williams beamed.
Mrs. Williams agreed. "But no more tonight. I know
Ronald's tired."
"Yes," Dr. Willams concurred. "Let's go to bed."
Ronald closed the piano and bade his hosts good night.
When he returned to his room, Ronald saw that his bed had
been turned down and a suit of his pajamas laid out on the
bed.
"What a sweet woman," he mused. Those were the
things his mother used to do, he reminisced. "So that's what
she was doing," he muttered, recalling she had left them
alone in the kitchen for a few minutes.


A knock on the door awakened Ronald in the morning. It
was Mrs. Williams.
"Just slip on your robe and come down," she said. "We're
going to hand out the gifts and open them and would like
to have you with us."
"Fine, Mrs. Williams, in a minute."
Ronald went to the bathroom and washed his teeth and
face and combed his hair. He looked at his chin in the mir-
ror, ran his hand over it. "I'll need a shave, but I guess I'll
do for now."
He bounded down to the living room. "Merry Christ-
mas!" he called.
Dr. and Mrs. Williams were sitting waiting for him. They
were both in robes, too. Mrs. Williams wore a quilted, dark
blue satin robe over blue satin pajamas, and mules. She was
as impeccably neat as the night before — not a strand of
hair out of place. She adjusted her glasses and with polished
grace lowered herself to a decorous sitting position on the
floor. She picked up two packages under the tree and looked
at the names on them.
"Fred." She held one out for her husband. "Ronald."
Ronald was surprised. "Thank you," he stuttered.
Mrs. Williams continued calling out the names on the
packages. She piled hers neatly on the floor beside her.
Those for persons not present, she put aside. Dr. Williams
had so many on the floor in front of him he said it would
take him all day to go through them. Then Mrs. Williams
called Ronald's name again. This time it was a larger
package.
He blurted out, "Gosh, thank you, Mrs. Williams!" He
knew what else she had been doing when she left them alone
in the kitchen.
When she had passed out all the gifts, she drew her legs
157


158 FALSE MEASURE
up under her. "Well, I guess we'd better see what we've re-
ceived," she suggested.
Her packages included everything from stockings to can-
dy to women's dainty things to powders and perfumes. Dr.
Williams had received the usual man's Christmas collection
of ties, socks, shirts, pipes, and tobacco. His wife had given
him an expensive smoking jacket.
He said he already had one, what was he going to do with
another? She informed him that he would wear it. The old
one was too worn. There were also slippers, a pen and pen-
cil set, a cocktail shaker to replace the one he had broken,
plus some glasses to match.
"This last one will go well with the basement bar," he
said.
One of Ronald's packages contained a toilet set of men's
powder, shaving cream, and soap. The larger one contained
two broadcloth shirts. Mrs. Williams told him that if they
didn't fit she would exchange them the following day.
"May I kiss you?" Ronald asked. "You've been so nice to
me. These gifts, and you've never seen me before."
She tilted her cheek and he bent down and kissed her.
She smiled up at him. Dr. Williams said he was a friend of
the Turners, so he was a friend of theirs. They wanted him
to feel that it was the same as being home.
"Joan is our godchild and we love her very much," Mrs.
Williams said. "If you are her boy friend, as I believe you
are, we'll have to love you, too."
"I have a gift for Joan. I want you to look at it and tell
me what you think of it," Ronald said. He ran up to his
room. When he re-entered the room he ripped open the at-
tractively wrapped package.
"What did you tear it open like that for?" Dr. Williams
asked. "How are you going to present it to her looking like
that?"
"Don't worry, Ronald," Mrs. Williams said, "I'll re-
wrap it for you and put a new card on it. Let's see what it
is."
Ronald opened the leather jewel box. It contained a
wide, heavy gold necklace with a sapphire pendant. Mrs.
Williams turned it over in her hands, held it at a distance


FALSE MEASURE 159
appraising it, and then said, "It's a gorgeous gift, Ronald,
and I know it cost you plenty of money. Joan will love it
and appreciate it."
"Let me see that necklace," asked Dr. Williams, holding
out his hand. "You did pay something for this!"
"That's Joan's birthstone," Ronald explained. "She cas-
ually mentioned her birthday to someone and I overheard
and made it a point to remember it. She'll be surprised that
I know her birthdate. Believe me, it's the most costly gift I
ever bought for a girl. But it's not too costly for Joan. Noth-
ing's too expensive for her."
"Listen to him," laughed Dr. Williams. "He's serious."
"If he's fond of Joan, and this is one indication of it,
that's the proper way for him to talk," Mrs. Williams said.
The phone rang. Mrs. Williams answered. It was Joan.
"Is Ronald up yet, Aunt Josephine?"
"Yes, he's up and we're all in front of the tree opening
Christmas presents."
"Well, we wanted him over here for the same thing."
"He'll have to dress and have his breakfast first."
"How do you like him?"
"He seems to be a fine young man."
"I'm beginning to think so too."
"You already do, or he wouldn't be here."
Joan giggled and made an aside remark to Beatrice, who
was near the phone. "Say, Aunt Josephine, we have two or
three gifts around here for you. When are you coming after
them?"
"Today maybe, or tomorrow. We have some things for
you, too. When are you coming over for them?"
"Send them by Ronald."
"Oh, no, darling. You must come after them yourself."
"Oh, Aunt Josephine, you're mean. Put Ronald on the
phone and tell Uncle Fred merry Christmas. By the way,
Beatrice Harrison is here from Boston. You must see her
too."
"Yes, I remember her and I know her mother and
father. Here's Ronald."
"Good morning and merry Christmas, Joan."
"Same to you, Ronald. Did you sleep well?"


160 FALSE MEASURE
"Fine. They've been awfully nice to me."
"My Aunt Josephine and Uncle Fred are nice people.
Now you hurry and dress and eat your breakfast and come
around here. Bea and I have been waiting for you."
"How's grandpa this morning?"
"I don't know. I only saw him a minute. He's probably
in the back working up another jag. Last night he was a
sight. When daddy came back home he had to verily pry
him out of that chair to get him upstairs to bed. And then he
was up this morning before anybody. Put Aunt Josephine
back on, and you hurry up."
"All right, see you soon."
"Yes, Joan?"
"Are you and Uncle Fred coming over here today?"
"Maybe. If so, it'll be in the evening. When are you com-
ing by here?"
"I'll be over tomorrow."
"Say merry Christmas to everybody for me."
"All right. Bye now."
The maid could be heard moving about in the kitchen.
Mrs. Williams told Ronald to let her re-wrap Joan's gift
and put another card on it.
"While I'm doing that, Ronald, you'd better dress. Break-
fast will be ready shortly."
When Ronald got over to the Turners', Beatrice and
Joan were still on the floor in front of the Christmas tree in
the midst of opened and unopened gifts. Joan had on yellow
satin pajamas. Beatrice's were green. They were both wear-
ing coolie coats. Standing over them, Ronald said, "You
ladies look pretty cute this morning."
"Thanks, Ronald, you don't look so bad yourself."
Joan reached under the tree, picked up a small package,
and handed it to Ronald. He opened it. "Joan, that's very
sweet of you. I didn't have one of these. I'll start using it
right now."
He put the balance of his pack of cigarettes in the case.
Then he went over to the chair where he had dropped his


FALSE MEASURE 161
overcoat, took a package from the pocket, and handed it to
Joan. "Merry Christmas from me," he smiled.
Joan tore open the package excitedly, opened the leather
box inside. "Oh, Ronald, this is beautiful." She fastened the
choker pendant around her neck. "Look, Beatrice."
Beatrice fingered the pendant. "It is simply exquisite."
Joan jumped up, kissed Ronald, and ran to a mirror.
"Oh, Ronald." And then she was off to show it to her mother,
father, Aunt Agnes, grandpa, and even the maid, in other
parts of the house. "See what my boy friend gave me!"
The women were enthusiastic. "Joan, that is nice. And
costly too."
Her father said, "It looks like he means business."
She ran back to the living room and told Ronald she was
not going to take it off all day, except to bathe, of course.
"Now come look at my other gifts," she said, taking his arm.
She had received a collection of women's dainty gar-
ments, expensive lounging pajamas from Beatrice, and siz-
able checks from her father, grandfather, and Aunt Agnes.
"I should be the happiest girl in the world, and I am," she
exulted, hugging Beatrice, on the floor beside her.
Beatrice said she'd better call her parents to wish them
a merry Christmas. She rounded up Mr. and Mrs. Turner
and they and Joan exchanged greetings with her parents on
the phone. Mr. and Mrs. Harrison were going to New York
for part of the holidays and they would stop in Springfield
for a few hours on the way down. "Yes, we'll bring some of
your presents," they promised Beatrice.
The Turners' neighbor, Mrs. Murphy, and her daughter,
Ruth, called to see Joan, the tree, and Joan's gifts. When
they embraced, Joan detected Ruth's pregnancy. Without
any facial revelation of her shock, Joan kept up a running
conversation and drew Ruth down on the floor with her to
examine the gifts. But Joan was thinking, "What a pity!"
Ruth had graduated from high school when she was
eighteen and the following summer went to work. In Jan-
uary of the next year she had married a young man who
worked with her in the factory. They had lived with his
parents first, couldn't get along there, and then had moved
in with hers. Now she was going to have a baby. "So young,"


162 FALSE MEASURE
Joan thought. "Nineteen and her first child. What a shame!
She'll take time off to have this baby, recuperate, and then
return to work. Then she'll become pregnant again and the
cycle will repeat itself. Poor Ruth. Still so young and she has
seen so little of life."
Mrs. Murphy said, "Now, Joan, we'll expect you over to
look at our tree."
"I'll be over," Joan promised, "and I'll bring my friends.
As soon as Beatrice and I put on some street clothes."
Before noon, Joan, Beatrice, and Ronald were at the
Murphys' house. Mr. Murphy, in his galluses and T-shirt,
offered them Irish whisky.
"My Christmas present to myself," he said as he pulled
the cork.
Ruth, now coatless and patently with child, brought
her young husband into the living room. "I remember you
in high school," he said to Joan. "I finished a couple of years
before you. I was on the basketball team."
"I remember you too," Joan said. "You played center."
"That's right."
Ruth smiled, looked up at her husband fondly. "I didn't
know you then and you weren't interested in me 'cause I was
only a lowly freshman."
Mrs. Murphy asked Beatrice if she went to school with
Joan. After Beatrice told her where she did go, Mrs. Mur-
phy said, "I knew you were with Joan or in some other such
school because you look it. You're probably smart too, just
like Joan. We're fond of Joan, and proud of her. She's home
so seldom now, we don't get to see her. When they were
younger she and my Ruth used to be just like that," and she
held up two fingers to demonstrate.
"Ruth has been married almost a year now and Joan's
just meeting her husband. Well, that's the way folks can
drift apart, 'specially when one gets married. And Joan has
different interests. All that college stuff and college friends."
Joan put her arm around Mrs. Murphy, took Ruth by
the hand, drawing Ruth to her. "Ruth and I will be friends
as long as we live," she promised.
Mr. Murphy said, "Let's everybody have another drink,"
and he filled the glasses. Ruth's husband took Ronald in the


FALSE MEASURE 163
rear to have another drink. When they were leaving, Mrs.
Murphy extracted a promise from Joan that she would come
again during the holidays. "Before you go back to college
and forget us again," she said.
Joan, Beatrice, and Ronald returned from the Murphys'
house and were taking off their coats when a determined
horn out front attracted them to the windows. It was Mil-
dred. She knew she was at the right house because she had
spotted her brother's car when she drove into the street. She
and a schoolmate burst into the house. Mildred and her
friend, Margaret, swung on Ronald's neck. Then Mildred
kissed Joan and Beatrice. Mr. and Mrs. Turner, Aunt Agnes,
and grandpa came in and were introduced.
Ronald said, "Meet my lively sister Mildred."
Grandpa added, "Pretty, too," lengthening the hand-
shake.
Joan said, "Oh, stop, grandpa." And to the others, "My
grandfather is such a rascal."
Mildred and Margaret had arrived in New York the night
before and had spent the night at Margaret's home. They
had left New York three hours before pulling up in front of
the Turner house. Mr. Turner cautioned her against fast
driving. She said she hoped to be in Boston by midafternoon
because, she kidded, "One of us should be at home on Christ-
mas Day with daddy. Since my glamor-boy brother had
other plans, it's up to me to get there." She snapped her
fingers in her brother's face with "And I will."
He laughed and shook his head. Mr. Turner suggested
that everyone have a drink. Mildred and Margaret said,
"By all means. Thanks."
Mrs. Turner said they should have something to eat,
what with the drive they'd already had and the one in front
of them. "Could you stay for dinner?"
Mildred said they couldn't. Too much delay.
"Sandwiches?"
"Yes, that will be fine."
Mrs. Turner went to make the sandwiches; the maid was
too busy with the dinner. Grandpa poured drinks, comment-
ing, "All these pretty women."
Dr. and Mrs. Williams came. Joan was all over them and


164 FALSE MEASURE
then handed them their gifts. She told Mildred she had three
more guests arriving and she intended having a party for
them. Could Mildred and Margaret get back? Yes, indeed,
they could. They would remain in Boston two or three days.
But where would they stay? Her house would be full to over-
flowing. Dr. and Mrs. Williams offered to put them up. "We
have the room and would be glad to have you," they de-
clared.
"You and Uncle Fred are the swellest people," Joan
gushed.
Mildred, with a wave of her hand and "We'll see you in
three days," was off to a spurting start. Shaking his head
Ronald remarked, "If she doesn't make Boston in two hours
I'll eat my hat. She's a good driver though. She'll be all
right."
Leaving, because their dinner should be ready, Dr. and
Mrs. Williams reminded Joan that if she wanted her gifts
she'd have to come after them.
"I'll positively be over tomorrow," she pledged.
Before dinner, Mr. Turner made two rounds of mar-
tinis. Aunt Agnes and Mrs. Turner didn't partake. They
were assisting the maid on the home stretch. Grandpa said
he didn't want any of those fancy Northern drinks. Give him
his straight, and let it be bourbon. So it was.
When the after-dinner coffee was served, grandpa poured
some of his in his saucer. He remarked, "This coffee's too
hot." Then he moved the saucer to his lips and drank from
it. Joan was aghast. She stopped in the middle of a sentence.
Everyone else pretended not to have seen it. She caught her
mother's eye and frowned. Her mother dropped her eyes
and stirred her coffee. Mr. Turner and Aunt Agnes revived
the conversation. Joan dug into her dessert, thinking, "As
though he isn't bad enough, now his table manners. And,
besides, he drinks too much."
There were Christmas radio programs after dinner.
Everyone became drowsy. The turkey dinner and the drinks
were having their effect. The Turners and their guests
spread around the living room and the sitting room. Grand-
pa started snoring. Ronald nodded. Beatrice dropped her
head on the back of her chair. Mr. Turner, Mrs. Turner, and


166 FALSE MEASURE
for it? Furthermore, if you ever put any of that stuff in
your mouth around here, don't kiss me."
"Don't bother about it, Joan," Mrs. Turner said.
"There's a cigar store near here. I'll show grandpa where it
is." She smiled indulgently at grandpa.
Joan went to Steiger's and Forbes' and Wallace's. For
Adrienne she picked out a pink silk nightgown; for Doris
an eggshell nightgown with matching chiffon negligee; for
Edwina blue satin pajamas and a quilted coolie coat; for
Beatrice a handmade silk crepe yellow slip trimmed with
ecru lace and panties to match; Chanel perfume for her
mother; satin utility boxes, a complete set, for Aunt Agnes;
pigskin gloves for her father; tobacco, a pipe, and pipe case
for grandpa. And she bought two dresses, two hats, and
three pairs of shoes for herself. She had spent a pretty piece
of change. It didn't matter. Santa Claus had been kind to
her.
Joan ate lunch and started home with her dresses, hats,
shoes, and Beatrice's gift in the back of the car. Within a
few blocks of her house she remembered she was to go to
Aunt Josephine's and she turned in that direction. She
pulled up in the driveway at the rear of the house and
tried the back door.
"That's funny," Joan thought. "When the maid's here
it's usually open. And the maid ought to be here at this time
of day."
She walked around to the front and lifted the knocker.
No response. She lifted it twice more. Ronald came to the
door.
"Hi, Ronald." Joan walked past him and on into the liv-
ing room, removing her coat as she went. She let it fall on
the nearest chair. "Where's Aunt Josephine?"
"She went out a few minutes ago. She's gone downtown
to exchange the shirts she gave me for a larger size and to
take care of some other matters. She was expecting you but
couldn't wait. I was on my way out myself, on my way to
your house. She gave me the key to lock up."
"I was downtown shopping. Where's the maid?"
"Help is supposed to get a day off once in a while. I
guess the day after Christmas is a good one."


FALSE MEASURE 167
"Oh, I see."
Joan went over to the tree and, kneeling, began looking
for packages with her name on them.
"Since Aunt Josephine isn't here I might as well pick
them out myself," she said.
Ronald was in the center of the floor, watching her. After
she had scanned them all and found four for herself, she rose
to her feet. "Pretty tree, isn't it?"
"Um hum."
"You bring the packages," Joan said and started for her
coat.
To get it she had to pass close to Ronald. He put out an
arm and pulled her to him.
"Oh, no you don't!" she exclaimed, trying to squirm out
of his grasp. "1 certainly did walk into a trap," she lamented.
"It wasn't of my making. It just happened," he said and
clasped her tighter.
"If you don't let me go I'll scream," she articulated, and
squirmed in earnest. She tried to kick but he held her so
she couldn't. Irritated because she couldn't break his grip,
she looked up at him and stormed, "You've had a lot of
practice at this business of taking advantage of women,
haven't you?"
He continued to hold her determinedly, but there was a
plaintive look in his eyes.
"Haven't you?" she demanded.
He said nothing.
"Haven ...?"
He pressed his mouth to hers and smothered her repeated
question. In the prolonged kiss he could feel her gradually
relaxing in his arms. Now she began to reciprocate. She
pulled her head back and pleaded, "For God's sake, Ronald,
let me go. Don't kiss me that way. I'm afraid."
He said nothing, but kissed her passionately again and
again. There was no resistance now. He began caressing her,
moving his body slowly against hers the way he had the
night she met him. She was falling in with these gyrations.
Her sensations became more intense, more urgent than any
she had ever known. Her desires became compelling. Her
face grew crimson, her whole body was burning.


168 FALSE MEASURE
"Ronald, please, I'm afraid."
He guided her across the room and eased her onto a
lounge. A tear ran down her cheek. She held his head in
both hands, looked into his eyes, and murmured, "I'm
scared, Ronald."
"Don't have fears. I'll protect you," he told her softly
and kissed her cheek, her lips, her throat.
"Good God! What are you going to do to me?"
She no longer had any will to oppose him. In seconds,
she was in ecstasy. So was he.
"I knew it would be like this," she murmured. "I ran
from it because of my fears. Oh, Ronald, you're going to
make me love you. Ronald, Ronald, daaaaarling."
"Joannnnnn, my love."
And then complete exhaustion.
Ronald lay his full length, pressed beside Joan on the
narrow lounge, panting quietly. His hands formed a pillow
and he was gazing at the ceiling. Joan's full breasts were
heaving rapidly and her heart was throbbing. Suddenly her
whole body began to quiver and tremble and she began to
cry. Ronald tried to soothe her.
"Now, now, Joan, don't cry."
Her soft sobs continued and her trembling seemed to
Ronald to be increasing. He began to caress her gently. "Try
to get yourself together, Joan, darling. Mrs. Williams may
come home soon and you're in no condition to be seen."
Joan forced a tearful smile. "It's just an emotional after-
math. I've heard of such things. I can't seem to get myself
under control."
"Well, let's not lie here," Ronald suggested. "Perhaps if
you move around a bit you'll regain your composure."
Rising to a sitting position, she told him, "I might stop
trembling, but it'll be many days before I completely regain
my equanimity."
Ronald kissed her tenderly on the cheek and helped her
to her feet. She went to the first-floor powder room to put
her hair and face in order. Ronald was at a window lost in
thought when Joan called, "Ronald, Ronald."
"Yes, baby?"
She came into the living room and hopelessly said, "I'm


170 FALSE MEASURE
opinion that she was in no condition emotionally to be seen
by her family, or anybody else. "Your nerves have to be
calmed and there's only one way to do it quickly."
"How?"
"A good stiff drink. Maybe two. There's unquestionably
some here, but I wouldn't go searching for it. And even if
it were where I could see it, I wouldn't want to take the
chance of Mrs. Williams seeing you before you're straight.
Let's go to a bar. And I'm going to keep you there until your
tremors are over. If you have to get tight to do it, okay. I'd
prefer taking you home juiced, without involuntary shak-
ings, than sober with the shakings. Let's go, sweetheart.
Come on, get into your coat."
"I'm in no condition to drive," Joan said.
"Leave your car here. We'll use mine. We'll come back
for yours and then maybe you'll be in condition to see Mrs.
Williams."
Unenthusiastically, Joan said, "Come on. Aunt Jose-
phine may come before we get going. I'd have a fit if she
saw me like this."
They found a silver-fronted tavern. It had a long bar and
lots of shiny-topped tables in booths. They took a booth
where lights were dimmest. As soon as they were seated and
before the waiter came, Joan started crying again, just tears,
no sobs.
"For God's sake, Joan," Ronald pleaded, "not now. We'll
be attracting attention."
"I'm trying not to," she sniffled, "but I can't help it."
She fumbled in her handbag for her handkerchief. He
pulled his from his breast pocket and handed it to her. She
was drying her eyes when the waiter came.
"Two double scotches and soda," Ronald ordered.
"Food, sir?"
"No."
The drinks came and Ronald asked, "Please, darling,
will you drink this down? In two or three swallows if you
can. Here's to you, the sweetest girl I've ever known," and
he raised his glass.
She smiled wanly and picked up her glass. She found that


FALSE MEASURE 171
if she used one hand, she'd spill the contents, so she held it
with both and took a big sip.
"Don't put it down," Ronald said. "Take a big drink.
That's it."
Ronald ordered another drink and didn't let her waste
any time on that one either. Her trembling subsided and
gradually disappeared after a third double. Then she was
depressed. She sat staring in her glass, occasionally twisting
it back and forth, sliding it across the slick table top, doodl-
ing with spilled drops. Ronald tried repeatedly to start a
conversation. Her replies were monosyllabic and she
wouldn't even raise her head. He got up and put some coins
in the juke box. The selection of records didn't offer much,
but he found two that Joan liked. The music didn't rouse
her from her lethargy.
"Now that we've erased the physical manifestations of
your psychological reaction, maybe another drink will revive
your normally lively spirits," Ronald suggested. "How about
it?"
She acquiesced without looking up.
After another double, which Ronald also insisted that
she drink without much time between sips, Joan perked up
a little and regained some of her usual vivacity. "Ronald,
I'm getting high," she said. "We should be going. It's almost
six and I've been gone from home all day. Beatrice is my
guest and I shouldn't have been away from her so long. My
mother and Aunt Agnes probably wonder where I am. I
haven't as much as telephoned. I'm over my trembling now
but if I keep this up I'll have d.t.'s." She gave Ronald a nice
smile. "Let's get going. But first I must go and check my
face and hair. I've recovered sufficiently to do it myself now."
At the Williams house, Aunt Josephine told Joan she
knew she had been there because her gifts were piled up
separately and she had seen the car out back.
"We went to a tavern and had some drinks," Joan said.
"Ronald was on his way out when I arrived."
"You didn't need to do that. There's plenty to drink
here."
"But we didn't know where it was."


172 FALSE MEASURE
"As many times as you've stood at your Uncle Fred's bar
in the basement?"
"But Ronald wouldn't have wanted to touch Uncle
Fred's whisky if he wasn't here."
"Ronald's supposed to make himself at home here. He
knows that. Don't you, Ronald?"
"Yes, Mrs. Williams."
"Well, in the future don't you go spending money unnec-
essarily in taverns. It's here to be drunk so drink it when
you're thirsty."
"Where's Uncle Fred?"
"He won't be home for another hour or so."
"I didn't know what to get him for Christmas. Or you,
for that matter. You people who have everything make it
hard for your friends and relatives. Any suggestions? I went
shopping today but I didn't know what to get for you two."
"Don't bother about me. I know you love me." She em-
braced Joan. "But your Uncle Fred smokes cigars. Buy him
a few. He received a lot of them for Christmas but he'll
never have too many. By the way, your mother's waiting
dinner for you and Ronald. Maybe you should start home.
Besides, you shouldn't have been away from Beatrice all
day."
"I had no idea I'd be gone this long when I left home
this morning. I'll call home and tell the folks we'll be along
shortly."
Aunt Agnes answered the phone. "Where in God's name
have you been, Joan?"
"I'm over at Aunt Josephine's now. After my shopping
tour, Ronald and I went to a tavern and had some drinks.
We'll be home in minutes. How's Beatrice?"
"She's all right. We kept her entertained."
"Put her on."
"Here she is."
"Hi, Joan."
"Hi, Bea."
"I missed you today, dear."
"I would have been home hours ago only Ronald per-
suaded me to go off to a tavern with him. What shall we do
after dinner?"


FALSE MEASURE 173
"Whatever you say."
"A movie?"
"Okay. Your mother just told me to tell you to hurry.
She's waiting dinner for you and Ronald."
"All right. Bye now."
"Come on, Ronald, let's get home or they'll skin me on
sight," Joan said.
At the door, Aunt Josephine said, "One of these nights
I'm going to keep Ronald here to have dinner with us, and
you can see him afterward. We think he's a very nice boy."
She patted Ronald's cheek.
The Ronald of midafternoon appeared momentarily in
Joan's mind, but she said, "That's all right, Aunt Josephine,
if you let us know in advance and don't keep him all eve-
ning."
She was going out the back door, Ronald following,
when she remembered her gifts.
"Go get my gifts, Ronald. I'll be at the car."
Aunt Josephine switched on the garage lights so that
Ronald, arms full, could find his way to Joan's car. At the
car he asked, "Joan, are you okay to drive?"
"I'll make it. Once, in the house, I felt as though I was
going to crack up but made every effort to appear normal.
How did I do?"
"Fine, darling. I love you."
"Do you really, Ronald?"
"Yes, Joan, I wouldn't say so if I didn't mean it."
She studied his countenance in the dim silence for mo-
ments. He appeared to be sincere.
Aunt Josephine called from the back door, "Wait a min-
ute, Joan. I forgot something." She walked over to the car
and told Joan that Uncle Fred wanted to give a party for her
holiday guests.
"Gee, that's swell, Aunt Josephine. I had planned to have
one at home but I'll change my plans. I love you and Uncle
Fred."
"I know you do. How many do you think you'll have?"
Joan counted on her fingers. "Somewhere between fif-
teen and twenty when I add boy friends for the girls."
"When do you want the party?"


174 FALSE MEASURE
"In two or three days. I'll let you know definitely on that
and the number of guests tomorrow or early next day."
"That's good. I must get inside. It's cold without a coat."
"Good night, Aunt Josephine. Do I love you and Uncle
Fred!"
"Good night, Joan. See you later, Ronald."
"Yes, Mrs. Williams."
"Ronald, after I back out, you trail me," Joan instructed.
When Joan and Ronald got home, Mrs. Turner asked,
"I thought you said you were going to have everything sent
except Beatrice's gift?"
"I did. Some of these are gifts from Aunt Josephine and
then there are some things I bought for myself."
"It looks as though you bought a whole lot of things for
yourself," Aunt Agnes said good-humoredly.
Joan shrugged. "Will I have time to dress for dinner,
mother?"
Mr. Turner cut in to say he was hungry and they had
held dinner for her "all this time." If she was going to be
much longer, Joan could eat when she got ready.
"As you wish, daddy," Joan murmured and kissed him
on his forehead.
At dinner, Beatrice told Joan that Oliver had called and
said he would arrive the next day. Ronald said that if he
could wait one more day he might drive down with Mildred
and Margaret. Beatrice retorted amiably, "Maybe I would
rather have him come tomorrow."
"Excuse me," Ronald said pleasantly. "I was only suggest-
ing."
Grandpa told Joan that through her mother's good graces
he had found a store where they sold chewing tobacco. Joan
glared at him and reminded him of what she had told him
in the morning.
Mrs. Turner told Joan that her former teacher, Miss
Clarke, had called. "She said you passed by her in the car
this morning and she would like to see you before you go
back to school. She also said she knows how well you've been
doing at school. The dean told her."
"I'll enjoy seeing Miss Clarke. I'll call her tomorrow
morning."


FALSE MEASURE 175
Conversation was abruptly interrupted a few moments
later when Aunt Agnes ejaculated, "Joan! What's the matter
with you?"
Everybody looked in Joan's direction. She had suddenly
lapsed into a lethargic stare, her eyes fixed on her plate.
Aunt Agnes' question snapped her out of it and she picked
up her fork and dipped it in her plate. With maternal con-
cern, Mrs. Turner asked, "Are you sick, Joan?"
"No, mother, I'm all right."
Mr. Turner's look was brief and permeating. He re-
sumed his meal without comment. Ronald was sitting next
to Joan. Furtively, he reached over and reassuringly
squeezed the hand in her lap. Grandpa said, "What she
needs is some straight bourbon."
Everyone laughed, including Joan, and relaxed conver-
sation began again.
While Joan was dressing for the show, Beatrice came into
her room and confidentially asked, "Was it something con-
cerning Ronald that was preying on your mind at the dinner
table?" Joan was silent. "Don't be reluctant to talk to me,
Joan. We're friends."
"You're right, Beatrice. It was because of Ronald. How
did you guess it?" She sat on the bed next to Beatrice.
"When you and Ronald came in I noticed an unusual
ruddiness in your face which was different from your usual
glowing freshness. Your efforts at keeping up a running con-
versation seemed to be strained. You had been drinking,
yes. But this color wouldn't have resulted from drinking."
"Beatrice, your discernment is penetrating." Joan put
her head on Beatrice's shoulder. "Right now it's all I can
do to keep from crying."
Beatrice put a comforting arm around her. "Try hard
not to. Your eyes wouldn't be right when you get downstairs
and questions would be asked. Whatever your experience
today, it was probably new to you. You're undergoing a
cruel emotional reaction because subconsciously you feel
you violated or came close to violating a moral code. Bear
this in mind: Ronald is a virile, handsome, intelligent young
man; you're a luxuriantly healthy, attractive, intelligent
girl. When two such compatible persons are thrown to-


176 FALSE MEASURE
gether, nature's normal impulses will force the breaching of
some of the interdictions of the code by which we live. Come
on now, finish dressing and let's get to the show." She
pulled Joan to her feet.
"Beatrice, you're a darling! You give me strength."
Joan contemplated herself in the mirror. She was wear-
ing a green woolen skirt, beige sweater, white anklets, and
brown-and-beige saddle oxfords. She had combed her hair
back in loose curls and had put a brown beanie on the back
of her head. "I guess I'll do," she said.
"You look exactly like a cute little high school girl,"
Beatrice said.
"I don't feel like one tonight."
"You'll be back to normal in a little while."
Ronald seated the two girls in the front of his car and
climbed in the driver's seat. "With due respect to your good
looks, Beatrice, there's one thing I must say: Joan, tonight
you're the prettiest thing I've seen in my life." He kissed
her warmly, and she didn't pull away.
"I agree with you, Ronald," Beatrice said.
Five minutes after they got settled in the movie, Joan
tapped away a yawn and went to sleep on Ronald's shoulder.
On the second day after Christmas, auburn-haired, Cau-
casian-looking Oliver came in from Boston. This day and
the next, many of Joan's former high school chums were
callers. Some of them were attending college and others were
working. Some were married. Along with Beatrice and the
two men, Joan found time to return a few of these calls. She
was even able to squeeze in an hour's visit with Miss Clarke
after having talked with her by phone. Miss Clarke promised
to stop by and see Joan's tree. Also she hadn't seen Mr. and
Mrs. Turner for a long time and she enjoyed talking with
Joan's Aunt Agnes. Joan and Ronald and Beatrice and
Oliver spent quiet evenings at home for the next two nights.
The fourth day after Christmas, Adrienne arrived from
Richmond, Doris came in from Chicago, and Edwina drove
down from Bangor. Ronald and Joan went to the station to


FALSE MEASURE
177
meet Adrienne. They had just set down the last of
Adrienne's large collection of bags in the Turner living
room when there was a call from the station. Doris was in.
They set out again. When Doris' luggage had been added
to the pile, Aunt Agnes jested, "You girls need one room set
aside for your luggage alone."
Edwina was tooting her horn outside. Oliver and Ronald
unloaded her car. The house was bordering on pandemo-
nium. More than a score of women's bags, hat boxes, and
coats were scattered over most of the living room. The merry
hubbub of the girls' chatter and laughter as they stepped
over, sat on, and moved around the obstructions added to
the confusion. In due course Mrs. Turner and Aunt Agnes
calmly began to restore a semblance of order. Grandpa
hadn't quite reached his alcoholic peak, so they enlisted his
aid in getting the luggage upstairs and to the proper rooms
after they had managed somehow to draw each of the new-
comers aside long enough to point out her belongings.
Grandpa grumbled that it was too much for him at his age.
Aunt Agnes rejoined, "And your bourbon."
They put Oliver and Ronald to work. Ronald said he
had never carried as much luggage before in his life.
"You want them to dress well and look good, don't you?"
asked Aunt Agnes.
"Yes," Ronald answered.
"Well, how do you think they'd manage if they didn't
put things in bags?"
"You have something there."
"All right then, let's get them upstairs without further
complaints."
The girls presented Joan with their gifts, which were an
expensive assortment of dainties and perfumes. Then Joan
distributed hers to them. There were hugs and extravagant
praises all around. Exactly what I needed . . . How did you
know I wanted this? .. .So beautiful and so practical.
At dusk, with much horn-blowing, Mildred and Mar-
garet arrived from Boston, and the bedlam which had tem-
porarily subsided received two gay sparks that made a new
young uproar in the Turners' house. Mrs. Turner tried to


FALSE MEASURE 179
and behavior and that he was to go in the back and stay
there and not annoy my guests any more. Do you know what
he said? He said he was used to addressing decent white folks
that way all his life and he wasn't going to change. I told
him that all my friends were equals, whatever their race,
respected each other, and addressed one another in the same
way. He said he didn't care whether I liked it or not, but he
was going to continue to address the white ones as he had
been and the colored ones as he had. Then I told him that
in accordance with his own code he had made some grievous
errors. He said 'How?' Then I told him he had been address-
ing some Negroes as white and vice versa. He demanded to
know who was who and I refused to tell him and walked
away from him. Then he came to the living room door, stood
there swaying, and studied everybody in the room from one
to the other trying to ascertain who was white and who was
colored. Undecided and confused, he stumbled in the back
and I haven't seen him since."
"He's at the kitchen table now," Mrs. Turner said. "Very
quiet and with his bottle. I wondered why he was sitting
there quietly so long. He usually tries to nettle the maid or
anyone else who's out there trying to do something. He
hasn't uttered a word for a half hour. I'll speak to your
father. Maybe he and Aunt Agnes can do something with
him if they can arrange to give him a good talking to before
he's had too many drinks. They can't cure him. Nobody can.
But maybe they can get him to leave you and your friends
alone."
"Mother, as my father's daughter I'm supposed to love
his father and I do believe I do. And I know grandpa would
do anything for me. But I do wish he had chosen another
time to visit us."
"I understand, Joan." She paused. "Your father will be
here very soon and I'm going to help get things on the table
so we can sit down as soon as he comes in. Then you and
your crowd won't be delayed too long."
"Meanwhile, I'll go over to Aunt Josephine's with
Mildred and Margaret and help get them settled in their
room."
"All right, dear."


180 FALSE MEASURE
Aunt Josephine welcomed Mildred and Margaret with
her usual gracious open arms. Joan had brought Ronald
along to help with the girls' bags. Uncle Fred hadn't come
home from his office. Ronald, in mock seriousness, said he
hoped that when this crowd of women got ready to leave
they'd hire a flock of porters. He didn't want to go through
another day like this. Aunt Josephine helped the girls hang
their things in the closets and arrange others in the bureau
drawers. She told Joan it was too much of a burden for her
mother, caring for such a large crowd; those sleeping at her
house should take their meals there too. Starting tomorrow
that would be all right, Joan said, but her mother had made
arrangements to feed them all that night. In fact, her mother
had really expected to handle everybody for the rest of the
holidays.
That would never do, Aunt Josephine said emphatically.
She had the help and it would be no problem. So that was
settled.
While Joan and the others were at the Williams house,
Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, on their way to New York, stopped
off. They telephoned the Turners, and Beatrice and Edwina
drove down to pick them up. Their arms were filled with
Beatrice's Christmas gifts.
"We checked our baggage through," Mr. Harrison said.
"We couldn't have handled that and these too."
At the house the first group was sitting down to dinner
and Mr. and Mrs. Turner tried to get the Harrisons to join
them. They declined. They only had a two-hour layover and
they would eat in the diner on the train. Dr. Williams was
reached at his office. He would drive by to see the Harrisons
on his way from the office. Mrs. Turner telephoned Mrs.
Williams and she drove over with the youngsters to say hello
to the Harrisons.
Mr. Harrison told Mr. Turner that Joan had his house
as full of youngsters as Beatrice did theirs when she was
home on holidays.
"Not only this house, she's filled up the Williams house
too," Mr. Turner said.
The young people had their heads together as to what
night would be best for the party the Williamses were going


FALSE MEASURE 181
to give them. The problem was boy friends: how soon they
could get there. Doris' went to Yale and he was at home in
Pittsburgh. She'd telephone him but he wouldn't be able to
get to Springfield for a day and a half by rail, and planes
weren't dependable because of uncertain weather. Edwina's
was in New York. He could make it easily. Mildred's was in
New York, and Margaret's was in Trenton. They could make
it on short notice. Adrienne's problem was the greatest. She
knew of no one closer than Atlanta whom she wished to in-
vite. Joan went into a huddle with Ronald. There was a
mutual friend in New Rochelle. He'd be all right. They'd
call him up. They discussed him with Adrienne. "Is he
handsome?" she asked.
"Yes, he is," they said.
"Okay."
They called Dr. and Mrs. Williams in on their con-
ference. The older folks had been smiling among themselves
at the great undertaking the kids were planning. The young-
sters asked if New Year's Eve, two days hence, would be a
satisfactory date. Indulgently, Aunt Josephine and Uncle
Fred said New Year's Eve would be fine. Doris ventured the
opinion that two days ought to be ample time for the men to
cancel any previous engagements and get there on time —
even hers, who had to come from Pittsburgh, the greatest
distance. Joan suggested that they call the men that night
so they could make their plans.
"And be sure and make all these calls collect so they
won't be on Mrs. Turner's bill," Edwina warned.
Mrs. Turner said it was a thoughtful gesture.
Mr. Harrison arose. "Now that the main issues have been
settled, we'd better be getting to the station."
Edwina, Joan, and Beatrice were driving them to the sta-
tion in Edwina's car. Beatrice put their gifts in their hands
as they were going out the door. Mrs. Turner advised the
three girls to come back promptly because they hadn't had
their dinner yet.
Dr. and Mrs. Williams were at the door saying "Good
night, all," when Adrienne walked over to them.
"I felt that you spoke to me as a member of the group
when you came in, and didn't really recognize me," she said.


FALSE MEASURE 183
"Don't worry. I can take care of him," her father an-
swered confidently.
Beatrice asked Mildred to play.
For the rest of the evening, the house was jumping.
Ronald and Mildred alternated at the piano, in a friendly,
brother-versus-sister rivalry, trying to outplay each other.
Men being in short supply for the dancing, Oliver and
Ronald were passed around.
Doris and Edwina had resolved between them that they
were going to get along with Adrienne this holiday. On her
side, Adrienne had determined to do the same. They danced
together, they gossiped and laughed. Having come to a truce
with Doris and Edwina, Adrienne set about to enjoy herself
thoroughly. She sat on the piano seat beside Ronald as he
played. At times, Joan would be on the other side. She
liked to dance with Oliver and Ronald. Their dancing was
so good, she thought. She danced better when she danced
with them. They taught her some steps the girls hadn't been
able to teach her. She liked Ronald. He was Joan's boy
friend and he was so nice to her. So cultured, too. She told
Joan she liked him. "Not for myself — he wouldn't like me
that way — but because he's your boy friend and goes out
of his way to be considerate of me."
"He knows you're my friend," Joan said.
Adrienne sat beside Mildred as she played. "They gave
me piano lessons when I was younger, but my teachers never
approached anything like the way you play. They couldn't,"
Adrienne said. Mildred demonstrated a few chords and
Adrienne tried them. They all laughed because Adrienne
couldn't get the right rhythm. Mildred and Ronald, as a
duet and separately, played college songs, and all gathered
around the piano and sang.
Toward the end of the evening Ronald played a special
number for Doris to do a solo. She performed like an ex-
perienced torch singer. The oldsters, sitting about being
entertained, joined in the applause. Doris said, "Ronald and
I ought to take a job entertaining somewhere this summer.
With him as an accompanist, I'm at my best. We'd be better
than many popular professionals."


186 FALSE MEASURE
Joan hung up. Her father was still waiting. "Daddy,
what do you think of Ronald?"
Mr. Turner pondered the question briefly. "I think he's
a nice young man. Privately, over a drink a couple of nights
ago while you were dressing, he and I had a little talk. He's
no novice with women and I wouldn't expect any young man
of his type to be. He's personable, intelligent, and has money.
The women go for that combination. He's been around —
not wantonly or lecherously — and he's known his share of
women in his class. He told me he had lots of girl friends
before he met you and that now he's lost interest in the
others." Mr. Turner paused. "Gratuitously, he told me that
he loved you. I told him that love was demonstrated more
by the way one acts than by what one says and not to be
throwing the word 'love' around unless true sentiment was
behind it. He agreed with me. Said he hadn't 'thrown' the
word around. He said that surely he wouldn't tell a girl's
father that he loved his daughter if he wasn't sincere. May-
be I'm wrong, time will tell, but I'm inclined to believe
him." Mr. Turner heard a bathroom door open. "Excuse
me, I've got to make this before somebody else does." He
made a dash for it.
"Wait a minute, daddy, I want to kiss you."
"Not now, later."
The bunch arrived and they all piled into two cars and
went searching for skates. It took two sports stores to get
them all outfitted in the correct skates screwed to special
skating shoes. Then home to change into clothes more ap-
propriate for the ice. Ronald borrowed a heavy knitted
sweater that belonged to Dr. Williams and Oliver borrowed
one of Mr. Turner's. The girls wore woolen stockings,
sweaters and skirts, short coats, and knitted peaked hats
topped with little balls they purchased while shopping for
skates. Then they were off to the ice pond. Everybody could
skate except Adrienne. Ronald tried to teach her while the
others twirled and raced and cut capers. Oliver succeeded
Ronald. Next, Joan on one side and Doris on the other,
guided her across the ice. Then Beatrice and Edwina tried
their hand. When the afternoon was over, Adrienne was
spending more time on her feet than on her posterior and


FALSE MEASURE 187
her ankles were less like rubber. "I want to try it again to-
morrow," she said. "This is fun."
The crowd split up for dinner and to dress. They would
reassemble at Joan's later. Miss Clarke was at Joan's when
she got there, being entertained by Aunt Agnes and her
mother. They embraced and Miss Clarke told her that
Springfield High was proud of her. They knew of her ac-
complishments at Smith. "If it's possible, I do believe you're
getting prettier," Miss Clarke smiled.
"Stop flattering me, Miss Clarke," Joan said. Aunt Agnes
and her mother beamed.
That night the gang went to a movie and afterward to
a tavern for some drinks. They were to gather early the next
afternoon to go skating again.
Persistent zeal was demonstrating results: Adrienne was
gliding around the ice unsupported, by late afternoon their
second day at the park. She wasn't very graceful but she
managed to keep on her feet. When she returned to school,
she vowed, she was going to get out on the ice every day
there was some. She was going to keep at this skating until
she had it perfected.
Back at Joan's from the ice pond, they found that the
first of the five out-of-town men had come — Doris' boy
friend from Pittsburgh. "The man who had to come the
greatest distance arrived here first," Doris said, giving him
a hug.
"I left Pittsburgh last night on a midnight train, spent a
few hours in New York, and came on up," he said.
In an hour two telephone calls let them know that three
men were at the station — Mildred's, Margaret's, and
Edwina's. "Stay there," they told them. "We'll come get
you."
Two of the men, Mildred's and Margaret's, knew each
other and had ridden up together. The third, Edwina's, was
on the same train but didn't know the other two. "We'll
pick them up in my car," Edwina said.
Margaret asked, "How are three men with luggage and
three of us going to get in one car?"
"All right, I'll take mine too," Mildred said. "Come on,
Edwina, I'll trail you."


188 FALSE MEASURE
Everybody's escort had arrived but Adrienne's. She said
she didn't care if he didn't show up. She knew she'd have a
good time anyway. But the three newcomers had barely been
introduced when the escort chosen for Adrienne drove up.
After considerable effort, standing on the steps screaming
for silence, Joan quieted them to announce the evening's
plans. Reservations had been made for the men at a hotel.
They should go to their hotel, get settled, eat, dress, do what-
ever else they had to or wanted to, until it was time to come
back for the girls at nine o'clock. Mildred and Margaret
were staying where the party was being held, she told their
escorts, and they could go directly there. They elected to
come back to Joan's first. Adrienne's escort said his car was
big enough to carry all the five men and their luggage. So
away they went for the hotel.
Joan asked Adrienne if the man they selected met with
her approval.
"Do I approve of him?" she asked with feeling. "He's
cute, and such a gentleman. When he left he said, Til be
looking forward to seeing you later, Miss Baskerville.'" She
was pleased.
It was past six when Mrs. Williams telephoned for her
charges to come home to their dinner. Ronald talked with
her and tried to explain that she had enough of a job pre-
paring for the party without the additional bother of dinner
for the four of them. They planned to eat out. She would
have none of that. She would expect the four of them in
a few minutes. She had hired extra help so she wouldn't
be burdened. Joan told them not to disappoint her Aunt
Josephine and hustled them out of the house. "Ronald, you
and Oliver be back here at nine o'clock," she warned.


Joan and her clan descended on the Williamses at ten
o'clock on New Year's Eve. Mildred and Margaret had been
dressed for over an hour but they wouldn't go downstairs
until they heard the others arriving. There was a total of
fourteen guests. The other twelve came over from Joan's in
three cars — Ronald's, Edwina's, and Adrienne's escort's.
Dr. Williams met them at the door. Leading the file, Joan
placed a kiss on his cheek as she passed. The fresh aroma of
an expensive perfume enveloped her. Those who hadn't met
Uncle Fred were introduced and he helped the men hang
their coats and the girls' wraps in the guest closet. The down-
stairs rooms were soon pervaded with the blended fragrance
of high-priced French perfumes. Mrs. Williams came into
the living room and met those she didn't already know. She
presented a stately appearance as she acknowledged the intro-
ductions in her gentle voice. A silver lining glistened
through her black lace gown which had a low-cut bodice and
was full skirted. She was wearing a narrow rhinestone belt.
Her earrings and necklace were diamond and the end of a
white chiffon hankerchief was tucked under a diamond
bracelet. As were all the other men, Dr. Williams was wear-
ing a tuxedo. He and his wife told them all to have a good
time. After all, it was New Year's Eve.
Joan put her arm around Mrs. Williams. "You're very
pretty tonight, Aunt Josephine."
"So are you, Joan." Her eyes rested on Joan's necklace.
"You know," Joan said, fingering the necklace, "this is
mother's. So are the earrings and the bracelet." She turned
her head to the right and left and then raised the arm with
the bracelet. "I've got on a fortune in jewelry tonight. At
first mother was reluctant to let me borrow these pieces, but
she eventually consented and asked me to please be careful
of them. Darling mother. Daddy gave them to her piece by
piece."
189


FALSE MEASURE 191
player was on but at the moment they were more interested
in the lift two or three highballs could give than they were
in dancing. Crowded about the small table, they were drink-
ing faster than the waiter could mix. When each couple had
finished two or three, boy and girl would move on to the
living room and start dancing. Mildred and her boy friend
were the last to leave the dining room on this first go-round.
They too went to the living room and began to dance. Ab-
ruptly, she broke off her dance, shut off the record player,
and called out, "Where's Ronald?"
He was dancing with Joan at the far end of the room.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I'm going to play. Will you follow me?"
Those who had heard her play said, "Good," and clapped
their hands.
"Of course," he answered.
"Is there anyone else here who can play?" Mildred asked,
seating herself at the piano. Doris told her that her escort
did.
"Fine, the three of us can take turns." To set the atmos-
phere Mildred struck up "Little Brown Jug," singing as she
played. Her escort was sitting beside her. The party imme-
diately became more lively.
Dr. Williams, circulating among the dancing couples,
told them the bar in the basement recreation room was ready
for service if anyone cared to go down. If they didn't, they
could still be served in the dining room. Uncle Fred had a
well-stocked bar and had engaged a bartender for this
night.
Mildred played several pieces. Then she called to Ronald,
"Come on, dear brother, it's your turn now."
He hadn't danced with another soul but Joan all evening
and they hadn't taken a breather. He no longer went out of
his way to excite her in their dancing together and she didn't
have to tell him to watch his behavior. She wasn't afraid of
him any more and occasionally would lay her head on his
shoulder. He would hold her close and lower his head to kiss
her hair or her forehead. Being close to him now only
slightly stirred dormant desires, which she could control
and keep hidden. Whereas before, the stimulation brought


192 FALSE MEASURE
on by being close to him and her inability to suppress it,
was agitated by his boldness, and she couldn't conceal out-
ward manifestations of her intense anxiety.
Ronald relieved his sister, who stipulated the next two
songs he was to play. Joan went for drinks for herself and
Ronald, and then sat on the piano seat beside him. Adrienne
and her partner came over to Joan. "We've been down-
stairs at the bar," she said. "It's nice down there. There's a
record player and a studio piano." She was swinging on his
arm. "Let's dance," she said to her escort.
Joan touched Ronald's arm. "Adrienne's beginning to
get tight. Look at the way she's got her arms wrapped around
his neck. They seem to be getting along famously."
The record player was going in the recreation room.
Doris shut it off and put her boy friend at the studio piano.
He was good. The recreation room — with its spaciousness,
card tables, railed bar, smooth linoleum floor, and long win-
dow seats — was more in keeping with their developing
mood. They all drifted downstairs and stayed there until
the break of dawn.
Midnight approached and Dr. and Mrs. Williams came
down with horns, noisemakers, and novelty hats. Ronald
watched the minutes and then the seconds tick off. He and
Joan and three other couples were standing at the bar. At
the stroke of twelve he took Joan in his arms and kissed her
fervently. The other couples followed suit. Then the din of
the noisemakers and the horns. Cries of "Happy New Year!"
and the sounds of factory whistles, church bells, auto horns,
and train whistles wafted into the room.
Dr. and Mrs. Williams had been sitting on a window
seat enjoying the youngsters' capers. Mildred started play-
ing a number and her boy friend danced with Mrs. Williams.
Edwina plunked a cap on Dr. Williams' head, to the glee-
ful encouragement of the others, and pulled him up to
dance. From then on the youngsters wouldn't let their hosts
sit down, until the hosts laughingly threw up their hands.
They had had enough. "We're not as young as you are."
Meanwhile, the waiter had set up a buffet table and had
brought down smoked turkey, baked ham, roast beef, hot
dishes, and salads. They quieted down to eat.


FALSE MEASURE 193
When the music started up again, with Doris' boy friend
at the piano, Ronald said to Joan, "I'd like to talk with you
seriously. I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon
"This afternoon," Joan broke in. "It's after midnight."
"All right, this afternoon. Don't be technical, Joan. I'm
talking seriously."
"Go on."
"There's something I'd like to say to you, for your ears
alone, and there's no privacy down here."
"If we find any privacy it won't be for long. They'll be
looking for us."
"Let's try it. It won't take me long to say what I want to
say."
"Where?"
"In the den upstairs."
"How are we going to get out of here without being
noticed?"
"You go first and I'll follow in a minute."
"All right."
Ronald walked to the bar and ordered a double while
Joan slipped out. He quaffed it in three swallows and started
up the steps.
"Ronald!" somebody called.
"What?"
It was Doris. "You haven't played since we've been down-
stairs. Come over here and play this piano!"
Some more voices said, "Yes, come on and give us a
number!"
"All right, I'll be back in five minutes."
Joan was sitting on a divan, her arms folded and her
legs crossed. "Well?" she asked when Ronald had seated
himself beside her.
He weighed his words carefully. "Joan, I've told you that
I love you
"Yes, but those words might have been the words of a
man with a temporary passion. How many other women have
you told that?"
"None."
"It sounds good, but I don't believe you. Sex can make
men say many things that are nothing more than the utter-


194 FALSE MEASURE
ings evoked by a sexual desire, or things said after sexual con-
summation."
"There is much more to love than just plain sex, Joan."
"I certainly know that, Ronald, and I hope you really do
too. Don't let your mind inflate an emotion that's a simple
biological urge and have you calling it love. Love has many
facets and sex is only one of them. I'm afraid you're per-
mitting sex to overshadow the other elements that make up
the compound called love. For you to love me, we should be
compatible in many areas."
"I've seen enough of you, Joan, to know that we are
harmonious In several areas, particularly the psychological.
I wish to say again that I do love you. My purpose in re-
questing you to sit with me apart from the others for a few
minutes was not only to repeat to you the three little words,
but to ask you if you will wear my ring. Will you?"
Gazing in front of her, arms still folded, she did not turn
her head to look at Ronald. Nor did she reply. Following
what seemed to Ronald an eternity of silence, she said,
"Please give me a cigarette."
He held his opened case before her. She removed one,
bent forward, and tapped it deliberately on the coffee table.
The case snapped closed and he flicked the lighter. She set-
tled back and inhaled long, pensive puffs, the smoke curling
from her nose and mouth. Ronald didn't break into her tem-
porary meditation. He lit himself a cigarette, clicked the case
closed, and turned it over and over in his hand awaiting her
answer.
At length she turned to him. "For you to offer me a
ring, Ronald, I ought first to have told you that I love you,
too. That I haven't done, and honestly couldn't at this mo-
ment because I don't know. I would want to be sure. An en-
gagement ring, to me, means a definite intention to marry
the man who gives it to me. How could I, in fairness to my
principles and to the man, promise to marry him if I don't
even know that I love him? I'm not as shallow as some girls
I've known and have heard about who accept ring after
ring, just for the fun of it, with no intention of following
through."
"When I made up my mind to ask you to accept a ring


FALSE MEASURE 195
from me, which is a roundabout way of asking you to marry
me, I was certainly aware that you haven't yet professed
your love. Yet I had hoped you would. It isn't conceit that
makes me say that I do believe you love me, but you're un-
willing to admit it to yourself or to me. It's the big and little
things that people do and don't do that speak their fondness
rather than what they proclaim. I know there's not an eli-
gible young man in the East who wouldn't give a right arm
to have your favor. I know of two, one at Harvard, who had
expected to be allowed to visit you this Christmas, but you
turned them down — and perhaps others I don't know about
— for the reason that I was here. The very fellow who is
here tonight as Adrienne's escort had hoped to be your main
guy this holiday, but you wouldn't let him come. He got
here but under different auspices. And I know you didn't
even contact a fellow in Boston when you were there for
Thanksgiving. He knew you'd be at Beatrice's and had ex-
pected a call from you. After we met you didn't bother to
contact him and when he telephoned, you had Beatrice tell
him you were out. He felt bad about it. He told me, not
Beatrice. I had nothing to say to him as to why you didn't
get in touch with him. In fact, at the time he didn't know we
were acquainted. Summing up all this and the fact that
you've been so thoughtful of me this week, and that you've
been exclusively mine, what do you have? I must not fail
to mention my weekend at your school. Everything was so
pleasant and you were such a good companion, it's one of
those weekends I'll long remember. Conscious of all this,
Joan, it seems to me that any man who can monopolize as
much of your time as I have must be more than a passing
fancy. If there was any lingering doubt in my mind that I
love you completely, it was resolved the afternoon after
Christmas."
"Don't mention that, Ronald. I would rather not think
of it now."
Ronald reflectively mashed out his cigarette. He opened
his case, offered another to Joan, took one himself, held the
light for her, lit his own, and put the case in his pocket. He
drew deeply, blew some smoke rings. "Would you be will-
ing to wear my ring as long as you retain your present sen-


196 FALSE MEASURE
timents? You could return it when you meet someone whom
you care as much for — thereby making a choice difficult —
or someone you care more for. If you should return it, even
after accepting it on such a liberal basis, I must honestly
admit that undoubtedly I would be hurt for a while because
I intend to accept the restraints that an engagement imposes.
However, I'd understand and get over it."
"Ronald, you've said many things that are true. It is a
fact that I have eliminated some fellows and avoided others
so I could be with you. I wouldn't have done it if I weren't
fond of you. In truth, I have been putting brakes on myself
with you. I've been afraid to let myself go, fearful lest I fall
in love with you and later my feelings might be traumatized
by your actions. I know you, Ronald. You're accustomed to
flitting here and there, with this girl and that girl. You've
had many girl friends and many are interested in you right
now. I wouldn't want to accept a ring from you on such lib-
eral conditions as you offer. An engagement to me would be
in the traditional concept and the limitations as to other
boy friends wouldn't bother me at all. I would love the man
to whom I would be engaged, and other men wouldn't in-
terest me. That is, not in the same way. I didn't like the
word 'restraints' you used regarding an engagement. That
implies a desire to do things that an engagement might keep
you from doing. If I were engaged, I would have no such
desires. No, Ronald. I must completely prove to myself that
I love you before I accept your ring and I must be sure that
you won't be running all over the country with, and after,
other girls."
"Whether you believe it or not, I haven't called on, met,
or been out with another girl since we met. And I haven't
had any desire to."
"This is January, 1940. I couldn't marry you until June,
1941, when I graduate. Do you think you could behave your-
self from now to then? That's eighteen months. A lot can hap-
pen in a year and a half."
"I've known all along how long I'd have to wait. For
someone worth while, eighteen months is no time to have
to wait. I'd wait five years, if necessary."


FALSE MEASURE 199
ders. Joan said, "Come on, gang, let's go home. The sun's
coming up." She moved about rousing them. Mildred and
Margaret said they were glad all they had to do was run up-
stairs to go to bed.
They all thanked Dr. and Mrs. Williams for the best
party ever. Adrienne gushed. Back home, Joan found her
mother, father, and Aunt Agnes still up. Grandpa was
asleep in a chair. They had taken him to Mr. Turner's club's
New Year's party where he had imbibed even more than
his usual amount of bourbon and had really performed. He
had danced both with the women and solo, a great deal of
knee-bending in his steps. He had climbed up on the band-
stand to sing a number. The family had tried to quiet him
down and he became bellicose. To a male friend of the fam-
ily who had come to Mr. Turner's aid, grandpa was heard
to say whom he could lick. With difficulty, they brought
him home. Fagged out, he had dropped in the chair where
he was now. Mr. Turner had attempted to get him upstairs
to bed before he lapsed into a deep slumber. He shook
grandpa's shoulder and grandpa flayed his arms, as if to
fight. "I ain't goin' nowhere," he insisted. Mr. Turner de-
cided to let him be.
Joan's coterie began scattering their various ways at
noon New Year's Day. None had fully recovered from the
night before. Ronald and Oliver, Mildred and Margaret
had said goodbye to Dr. and Mrs. Williams and had driven
around to the Turners. It was difficult for the four to decide
what would be a nice gift for the Williamses as a token of
appreciation of their hospitality. The Williamses had every-
thing. They settled on a set of silver-monogrammed crys-
tal glassware. "Everybody put in ten dollars," Mildred said.
"Margaret and I will make the purchase in Washington and
forward it with our four names on it. If it costs more than
forty dollars, and it might, you'll hear from us for some
more money. Now, Oliver, you and Ronald each give me
ten dollars."
Ronald gave her fifteen, in case it should cost more.
Margaret and Mildred were going to drive straight
through to Washington, alternating at the wheel. Both had
early classes next morning. Their boy friends were riding


FALSE MEASURE 201
embraced her grandfather. "You're a devil, grandpa, but I
love you. Goodbye." Aunt Agnes took a morning train to
New York and a plane from LaGuardia to Columbus. Grand-
pa left the next day and the Turner household returned to
normal.


8
Joan did not accept Ronald's ring when he visited her at
Smith the last weekend in February. She told him she hadn't
made up her mind. He opened the velvet-lined box with its
sparkling solitaire. "I wish you would wear it, Joan."
She took the box in her hand, studied it, snapped it
closed, and handed it back to him. "Not yet, Ronald. Perhaps
later."
She saw him during Easter vacation at Beatrice's in Bos-
ton and in Springfield later, and repeatedly refused the ring
he always had in his pocket when he was with her. Joan had
lengthy confabs with Edwina, Doris, and sometimes Adri-
enne, as to what she should do. Edwina finally said, "You've
dropped all your other boy friends and he's the only man
you let visit you here on weekends. On vacations you see no
one else. What does that mean? It means you love him, so
accept his ring."
Wearing her new Phi Beta Kappa key on a chain
around her neck, Joan came home at the close of the school
year, but to remain only a few days. Ronald was in Spring-
field twenty-four hours after she arrived. They set off to-
gether for Poughkeepsie for Beatrice's commencement exer-
cises. It was on this trip that she accepted his ring with a
warning that henceforth he was to curtail his activities with
other girls. He swore he had done so months before. Ronald
left Poughkeepsie and went on to Washington for Mildred's
graduation. He was due to go to Dartmouth for Oliver's
too. Both exercises were scheduled for the same day but he
knew his sister would excoriate him if he didn't show his
face at her commencement.
Joan went to Springfield, remained a week, and then
left for New York where she visited Helen Terrence for
six weeks. Ronald followed her to New York. Beatrice
joined her in New York and the two entrained for Chicago
and dropped in on Doris for two weeks. Then on to Colum-
202


FALSE MEASURE 205
"Did you ever hear of Selective Service?" Ronald in-
quired.
"My God! Have you been called?"
"No," Ronald explained, "but it can happen any day
now."
"I don't see why they can't let you finish out your school
year before they take you in that old Army," Joan asserted.
"I don't either," Doris agreed.
Ronald pointed out that a local draft board could agree
to a temporary deferment, for the completion of a school
year or for other reasons. He doubted that his board would.
He had talked with the chairman of the board and the chair-
man held it to be questionable that Ronald's request for
deferment to June would be granted. "The chairman seemed
to be unnecessarily hostile and, indeed, impatient with me
for asking," Ronald said. "Now I'm sure I'll go as soon as
my number comes up."
Doris asked, "When do you think you'll be called?"
"In about six or eight weeks, depending on quotas."
Doris moaned, "Oh, Ronald, no. They can't take you
from us." She embraced him. "I don't blame you for crying,
Joan. I could cry too."
Joan spent Thanksgiving in Boston with Beatrice, and
Ronald was still around. To appease her parents, she had
gone home the previous weekend. At Christmas, Joan, Bea-
trice, Edwina, Mildred, and Ronald went to Chicago where
they visited Doris and had a hilariously good time until
New Year's Day. They flew back so those who had to could
make classes. Ronald remarked that he felt he was enjoying
himself on borrowed time. Everybody told him to try to for-
get it and live freely until he was actually called.
Friday, the first week in February, Ronald received a
five-day warning card from his draft board. He would be in
the Army before the next weekend. On Monday or Tuesday
they would send him his forty-eight-hour notice. Mr. Greg-
ory had pulled some of the strongest political wires in Bos-
ton to get his son deferred until June. "I know he's got to go
sooner or later, and so does he, but, hell, I'd like him to be
able to finish this school year," Mr. Gregory told the political
bigwigs. He passed around some money, too.


FALSE MEASURE 207
tions; they could vote him down in this instance if they
wished, but he would yell to the high heavens, announce to
newspapers and in his pulpit that over his opposition they
were bringing political favoritism into the draft board.
"There'll be no favoritism as long as I'm here," the preacher
smirked, banging an enraged fist. "I'll create a nasty mess."
"We can't understand why you're so hard on this young
man. If you hadn't taken it upon yourself to single-handedly
deny his request, this matter wouldn't have come up. We ad-
mit that we've been approached. What father wouldn't try
to do something for a son in similar circumstances? There's
nothing criminal or illegal about granting this young man
a deferment until June."
Puffing, beads of angry sweat on his shiny black fore-
head, the man of God bellowed adamantly, "What I said
stands! Gregory goes as scheduled. If there is no further busi-
ness this meeting is adjourned." He slammed his hand on the
table and stormed from the room.
By the political grapevine the other board members
passed on the information that it was only because of the
stubborn meanness of the preacher that Ronald didn't re-
ceive his deferment. They could have outvoted him and
granted the deferment, but he would have followed through
on his threats and given the public the erroneous impression
that all one had to do was have political connections to stay
out of the Army. When this news reached Mr. Gregory, he
made a beeline for the draft board. He couldn't find the
preacher there but did find him in his parish office. The
clergyman was sitting behind his desk preparing a sermon
on "Kindliness" when Mr. Gregory, his hat on, burst into his
office.
"Why are you persecuting my son?" Mr. Gregory began
without greeting the minister. "What has he or any of us
ever done to you? If it weren't for the devil in you my son
would be able to complete his school year."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Gregory,
but I would be pleased if you would take off your hat in my
office."
"Goddamn my hat."


208 FALSE MEASURE
"If you can't comport yourself as a gentleman, you may
get out or I'll call the police."
Mr. Gregory shouted, "Call the police and see what hap-
pens. Whether it's gotten into that thick skull of yours or not,
I control the police around here. Call them. Call them and
see what happens. They'll lock you up." He shook his in-
dex finger. "You've taken undue advantage of my son because
of some temporary power you have and have abused. My son
will go in the Army as scheduled, but I'll get you if it's my
last act on this earth." Mr. Gregory turned to go.
The preacher, not having moved from his chair, assumed
his best theological tone. "I know your son will enter the
Army as scheduled, Mr. Gregory." He smiled derisively.
Mr. Gregory scowled at him for a moment, snorted, "You
black bastard," and stormed out, slamming the door.
The Friday evening Ronald received his five-day warn-
ing, he telephoned Joan at Smith. She lost her voice when he
gave her the sad tidings. "Ronald," she said when she re-
gained her speech, "my darling, my love, my everything, it's
too late for me to leave tonight but I'll take the first train out
in the morning and I'll be with you tomorrow. Call Mrs.
Harrison and tell her I'll be there tomorrow afternoon. I'll
wire the time. I don't know how early the train leaves. Oh,
Ronald, I love you! Why are they doing this to us?" She
burst into tears.
Ronald attempted to soothe her. "Don't cry, Joan. It's not
all that bad. Bad enough, though. We'll live through it. Al-
ways remember that I love you and, knowing you love me,
we'll both be able to face whatever comes our way. It will
give us added strength. We're not alone. There are other
couples who are going through this same thing and there'll
be more."
"I know all that, Ronald," she sobbed. "I can't be con-
cerned about the others. I'm only worried about you and
how long you'll be away from me."
"Now, Joan, go to bed and get a good night's rest, and
don't forget to wire me. I'll be at the station. Good night,
sweetheart."
"Good night, my darling."
Joan fitfully wept and tossed most of the night. Edwina,


FALSE MEASURE 209
her roommate again this year, was apprehensive and sat on
the side of Joan's bed most of the night, trying to assuage
her grief. She checked the train time in the morning, got
Joan up and helped her dress and pack her bag. She re-
garded Joan's reddened, sleepless eyes and disconsolate ex-
pression. "Joan, baby, get yourself together. Calm yourself.
Ronald will only be gone a year. All of us are going to miss
him and when he comes back we'll pick up where we left
off."
Joan sighed. "I know he's only supposed to be gone a
year but I feel that, somehow, something's going to happen
and he might be gone more than twelve long months."
"We're not at war yet. He'll be back on time. Come
on, now, let's get to the station." Edwina picked up Joan's
bag. Solicitously, Edwina asked, "Joan, do you think I
should make this trip with you? You're not yourself and I'd
hold myself responsible if I let you go alone and something
happened to you."
"You're sweet, Edwina. I'll be all right. I promise you
I won't shed another tear."
The train thundered into the station and screeched to
a stop. The two girls hugged and kissed and Joan climbed
aboard. "Give my love to Ronald," Edwina said. Then she
went to the telegraph window and wired Ronald Joan's ar-
rival time in Boston.
Mrs. Harrison was with Ronald to meet Joan at the sta-
tion. After Ronald had greeted Joan, Mrs. Harrison took
her in her arms. "My poor little girl's been crying. Don't
worry about Ronald. Nothing will happen to him."
"But I don't want him away from me so long, Mrs. Har-
rison."
"He'll be able to get a pass or furlough every now and
then so you two will see each other at intervals. Not as often
as you would wish, of course. And, if he isn't too far away,
maybe you can visit him. Next year at this time he'll be get-
ting out and you'll be rejoicing."
At the Harrisons', Joan and Ronald were together the
balance of Saturday afternoon and evening and Sunday morn-
ing and afternoon until train time. They talked of future
plans, now that the Army had intervened. Their marriage


210 FALSE MEASURE
would be put off until Ronald's discharge. He would have a
year and a half to go in his law course, but his father was
going to build them a house — "Like your Aunt Josephine's.
I love it," Ronald said — and defray all expenses until
Ronald could assume the responsibility himself. Mr. and
Mrs. Harrison accompanied Ronald and Joan to the station.
On the platform waiting for Joan's train to come in, Mr.
Harrison whispered to his wife, "Let's go to the car and
wait for Ronald so they can be alone these last few minutes.
There's no telling when they'll be together again." They
bade Joan goodbye and invited her to stay with them as often
as possible in order to be near Ronald if he should be as-
signed to a camp near Boston.
The next Thursday, Ronald was inducted and sent to
Camp Edwards at Cape Cod, for basic training. His letters
to Joan were long and frequent. A furlough was out of the
question for some weeks. An occasional overnight pass was
the best he could hope for and that wouldn't allow him
enough time to get to Northampton. After Ronald had
been away for six weeks, Joan went to Boston on the week-
end, met Mr. Gregory by arrangement, and they drove to
Camp Edwards.
A situation in regard to Ronald that hadn't entered Joan's
head presented itself in bold relief when she and Mr. Greg-
ory arrived at camp and the realization stunned her: segre-
gation of Negro troops. Mr. Gregory got directions to Ron-
ald's outfit at Post Headquarters. It began slowly to dawn
on Joan when they were approaching his company after
passing through an area populated solely by colored soldiers.
At the company orderly room a sergeant sent for Ronald.
Following the lovers' touching greeting and father's and
son's warm handshake with a paternal slap on the back, Mr.
Gregory and Joan laughed with Ronald about his ill-fitting
uniform. "What a contrast!" Joan said. "This is the first
time I've ever seen him that he wasn't nattily dressed."
Ronald showed them around as much of the camp as he
knew. After the company had eaten, the mess sergeant fed
Ronald and his guests in the mess hall. During the meal
Joan asked Ronald why they had him in a Jim Crow outfit.
Ronald told her he was sure she knew that Negro soldiers


212 FALSE MEASURE
"Why, Joan," Ronald said, "you speak as if you've never
seen any Negroes before. Everybody can't be good-looking."
"I know that, Ronald. But I've never seen as many blacks
together in one place before in my life and I don't like your
being here with them."
"I don't like being here either, darling — that is, in the
Army — but being in the Army as a buck private isn't milk
and honey whether you're with a white or colored organi-
zation. I've never seen or been around as many Negroes
gathered together in one place either, but I've gotten used
to it. And some of them are darn nice and intelligent. It's a
new experience for me but I'm taking it in stride."
"That's the best attitude to have, Ronald," his father
agreed.
When they were leaving the mess hall, Ronald intro-
duced Joan and his father to the mess sergeant. They met
his platoon sergeant outside the door. Joan accepted the
introductions coldly, nodding her head and with an expres-
sionless face. While the men exchanged small talk, she indi-
cated impatience. Out of earshot, Ronald patiently chided
Joan for her stiffness in meeting the men. "My dear, sweet
girl," he explained, "this isn't a country club. It's the Army.
Try to look pleasant when you're introduced, even if you
don't mean it. Don't forget, I've got to live with these fel-
lows, even if some of them are what you call common
rabble."
"Ronald, darling, you must attempt to understand me,"
she pleaded. "I was shocked when I learned you were in a
Jim Crow outfit. I haven't gotten over my surprise and dis-
gust. Oh, yes, I've been aware that Negroes are put in
separate outfits, but that they would do that to you, never
entered my head. You're so far above any of these men."
Ronald replied gently, "Joan, some of these recruits are
on the ball. The noncoms in the cadre are old Army men,
not very literate, but they're good drill masters."
"The noncoms haven't any sense or they wouldn't have
been in the Army before this emergency," Joan argued.
Ronald took a deep breath. "After some of these recruits
have completed their basic training, they'll overshadow the
members of the cadre and more than likely take over their


214 FALSE MEASURE
"Goodbye, my darling."
"Be a good soldier, son."
Ronald couldn't get to Joan's graduation. He hadn't
completed his basic training and wouldn't be granted a fur-
lough until he did. He had implored the first sergeant in
vain, pointing out that it was his fiance's graduation. In an
emergency, such as a death in the family, a furlough would
be given, but a graduation wasn't an emergency, and that
was that.
Joan had last seen Ronald when he was on a weekend
pass in Boston in April. His father had given him an
elaborate and expensive party, caterers and all. Five girls
from school had accompanied Joan. All Boston's younger
society set was there. Beatrice, the Boston high school
teacher, was there. Mildred, then in graduate school at
Columbia, came up from New York. Oliver, saved from the
Army by being in medical school, gloated over it to Ronald
and kidded him about his uniform. Adrienne, Edwina, and
Doris were in the group that came with Joan. The weekend
was full and gay. Late Sunday night Mr. Gregory dispatched
the girls back to Smith in his chauffeur-driven car. They had
missed the train that would have put them there on time.
Simultaneously, Ronald in his own car left to make reveille,
one of his father's men with him to bring the car back.
After graduation Joan went home to Springfield, where,
she told Ronald in her letters, she was going to stay all
summer. If he should suddenly get some free time he would
know she was there waiting for him. In August he visited
her on a five-day furlough. He was wearing corporal's stripes
and was being shipped to Fort Riley, Kansas, at the end of
his furlough. Joan was philosophical. For one thing, al-
though she couldn't hold back the tears when they said good-
bye, wherever they sent him it would be all over in February
and then they would be together permanently. In the fall
she entered graduate school at Harvard and took up resi-
dence on the campus. This would keep her busy while
Ronald was away.


218 FALSE MEASURE
other activities in the lobby, but she heard every word that
was said. The clerk noted Joan's anxiety, as much as she had
tried to hide it, and it could have given them away. How-
ever, after regarding Joan hastily, he soliloquized, "What
the hell, the guy's going overseas and whether they are or
aren't married, this is their farewell. Considering her
ethereal beauty and fine apparel coupled with the pertur-
bation she's trying to suppress, it's obvious this is the first
time she's been in a hotel with a man." The clerk pointed to
a line on the registration card and said, "Sign here, ser-
geant."
The suite was elaborately furnished. It consisted of a
private bath, bedroom, and sitting room overlooking the
park. Ronald had asked for a piano. There wasn't one there
but before they finished looking through their rooms two
hotel servicemen were pushing in a studio model. Secure
from the eyes of the public, which always includes unseen
witnesses, Joan's disquiet waned. Ronald called Room Serv-
ice. They were going to spend all of these hours together,
alone in these rooms. There wasn't anything New York had
to offer that they hadn't already seen and they didn't want
to be bothered with company or go to see anybody. When
the waiter came Ronald ordered champagne, scotch, lobster
and steak dinners, and all the trimmings. As he named each
item he turned to Joan to ask if it was okay.
She would say, "Yes, darling, if it suits you. This is your
party." But as he kept ordering, Joan interrupted to remind
him, "Remember, Ronald dear, my figure."
When the waiter left, Ronald said, "Before I left Cali-
fornia dad sent me a large money order. His letter said,
'Wherever they send you, if they let you have any time off
before they do, here's money to have a last fling. Have Joan
with you if you're not too far away from her.' Thank God I
wasn't too far away from you. And this is my last fling!"
Ronald got up and went to the bedroom and opened his
bag. "Joan, I'm going to get comfortable before dinner. Why
don't you hang up your clothes and do likewise?"
Joan didn't answer and Ronald went on to the bath,
garments on his arm. He returned in minutes, wearing
pajamas and a robe. Joan was sitting in the same position as


FALSE MEASURE 219
when he left. She hadn't even taken off her hat or jacket. She
was staring at the floor with faraway, melancholy eyes.
Ronald stopped short and implored, "Joan, what's the
matter?"
She didn't reply, kept her eyes on the floor.
Ronald squatted in front of her, took her hands in his.
"Won't you snap out of it, Joan? If you love me as you say
you do, you will. I want this evening to be one of complete
bliss for both of us. You won't disappoint me, will you?"
She toyed with his hands. "Ronald, I'm twenty-two years
old and a grown woman now, but I'm simply plain bashful
in this setting. I'm not even considering leaving; I want to
and have wanted to be near you. It was terrible for me all
these long months that we've been separated. When we'll
have this opportunity again, no one knows. Tonight, I real-
ize, we must live for the future. And we have no moments
to waste. Your hours are limited. But give me time to adjust
my psychology. If only you had sufficient time for us to get
married! My equilibrium wouldn't be off balance."
Ronald kissed her, raised her to her feet. "My sweet little
girl, go hang your clothes and make yourself comfortable.
Take your time, but don't be too long. Our order might
come. Meanwhile, I'll try out this piano."
Joan's steps to the bedroom were slow and measured. She
picked up her bag, went to the bath, and locked herself in.
Ronald sat at the piano, tested its tone. "Not bad." He
struck up a song Joan was fond of. Then he went into other
pieces reminiscent of the many happy hours and days they
had enjoyed together.
Soundlessly, Joan came from the bath, stopped in the
bedroom to hang her clothes and put down her bag, and
crept up behind Ronald, who was absorbed in his music and
its significance. She stood motionless, directly behind him.
The aroma of her fresh perfume seeped into his nostrils and
he half turned his head. Quickly she put her arms about his
neck and held him saying, "I won't let you turn around un-
til you tell me you love me."
He felt her soft bosom pressed against his back. "I do, I
will always."
She let him go and he jumped up from the piano bench


220 FALSE MEASURE
and stood facing her. His eyes covered her admiringly. There
was an expression of shyness on her face and she backed
away.
"Joan," he said, "you look like a little seventeen-year-old
girl. Your demure mien makes you appear three years
younger than that."
Joan had put on a pink satin nightgown. Covering it was
a pink chiffon negligee. Her hair was combed back and fell
in ringlets to her shoulders. A narrow ribbon was tied in a
bow on top of her head. Ronald walked to her and enfolded
her in his arms.
She dropped her head on his chest. "Bear with me,
Ronald," she asked, "I'm an extremely modest little girl."
"And you're a gorgeous little girl," he amplified.
The buzzer sounded. It was the waiter. He wheeled in
their oversized order, pulled the table from the wall, and
went about setting it up. Joan asked Ronald, "Do you re-
member Prudence in Columbus?"
"How could I forget her? The fun all of us had in
Columbus in — was it 1940? So much has happened I get
the years mixed up."
"Yes, it was 1940. Prudence is married to a doctor and
living here in New York now. I told mother I was going to
stay with her, so I'd better call her and let her know where I
am in case mother or daddy should try to reach me."
"Not a bad idea."
Following ebullient greetings and explanations, Joan
told Prudence, "If my folks should call, tell them I've gone
out with Ronald and will be back. Then you call me here."
"Fine, Joan. I understand. Give my love to Ronald and
tell him to come back soon."
"I'll see you sometime before noon tomorrow. Goodbye,
Prudence."
"Goodbye, Joan. I'll be on the lookout for you."
Ronald suggested a scotch highball before dinner. The
waiter mixed them. He opened the champagne and replaced
it in the iced bucket, made a final survey of the table, and
inquired, "Anything else?"
"Not a thing. Everything looks fine," Ronald answered,
looking over the check. It was for a larger amount than the


FALSE MEASURE 221
weekly earnings of most skilled workers in those days.
Ronald paid it and tipped the waiter handsomely. The
waiter enthused, "Thank you, sergeant. If you should need
more ice or if you should want me to open the other bottle
of champagne later, or anything else, call Room Service and
give my number." He bowed himself out.
Joan sat on the piano bench close to Ronald after dinner
and he played tune following tune that brought back
memories to both. Some he sang alone, to Joan's attentive
ears; others they sang together.
Joan put her hand over her mouth to stifle a full yawn.
The heavy meal, the champagne, and the Scotch were taking
their toll. The yawn was catching.
Like other women seeing their men off to the wars since
time immemorial, in the morning Joan said a tearful fare-
well to Ronald at Pennsylvania Station. There were mutual
professions of everlasting love and earnest promises to be
faithful and true. Afterward, riding in a cab to Prudence's
house, Joan blushed when she relived in her mind the previ-
ous night spent with Ronald.


9
In September, 1942, Joan was appointed a high school
teacher in New York City. She domiciled herself with her
longtime friend, Prudence. Ronald was in England two
weeks after he said goodbye to Joan. His unit was made part
of a regimental combat team and they went in training for
Operation Torch, the invasion of North Africa.
On November 12, 1942, in one of the follow-up waves,
Ronald landed at Oran. Blackout regulations were strictly
enforced. On the night of November 20, Ronald was riding
in a jeep on a road heavily traveled by the military, return-
ing to his headquarters from a courier mission. The road was
barely wide enough for two-lane traffic. The steady military
flow of the past few days was much greater than anything
contemplated when it was built. Deep holes had been worn
and the shoulders were pulverized. Ronald's driver was good.
The unending dim slits of blackout headlights coming to-
ward them, scant distance between them and at a rapid clip,
could be seen a mile ahead on straight stretches. The faint
headlights gave no indication of the size of the vehicle ap-
proaching. It was necessary to be on the alert and cut over
to the right, frequently swinging all four wheels off the road-
way, if the outlines of a wide vehicle could be made out be-
fore it was too late. Twice Ronald's driver said, "Damn, that
was a near miss," as he swung back on the roadway. He
pushed himself forward, close to the wheel, straining his eyes
to the darkness in front.
The line of vehicles they were in moved alternately be-
tween crawls and spurts of speed. The driver was hanging
hard upon the thin, red thread of light shining from the
tail-light of the truck in front of them. The truck went into
a short burst of speed and its taillight became dimmer.
Ronald's driver pressed his toe down on the gas. He didn't
see the truck he was following, then far in front, swerve
deeply off the roadway to avoid a head-on collision. They
222


FALSE MEASURE 223
picked up speed. He saw the peeping headlights of an on-
coming vehicle. Subconsciously, he thought they were a little
high, higher than those on the larger trucks. That should
have been a warning signal. A mammoth tank retriever, tak-
ing up two-thirds of the road, and bearing down on them,
loomed into view. Its driver felt confidently safe from phys-
ical injury caused by road collisions because of the tons of
steel surrounding him. His fast, arrogant driving should
have been confined to daylight hours. Woe befall anyone
who didn't get out of his wide path. Ronald's driver's re-
flexes were keen. He swung the wheel hard and sharply to
the right, completely avoiding the tank retriever. But the
road shoulder was narrow at this point, and there was an un-
fenced, forty-foot steep embankment. The jeep shot out into
space. There were two horrible screams. The jeep turned
rear over front, landing upside down in the sand below.
Then there was silence, only the remote sounds of motors
going in the opposite direction on the highway above.
The driver and assistant driver of the truck directly be-
hind the jeep had seen it run off the highway. They stopped
in the traffic lane and everything behind started piling up.
The two soldiers got out quickly and peered down the em-
bankment. They could see nothing in the darkness. One ran
over to the truck and came back with a flashlight. The beam
of light picked out the upside-down jeep, its front wheels
spinning to a slow rest. Only one man could be seen. He
was lying motionless on his back. One leg appeared to be
under the side of the jeep. Other soldiers came up from
halted vehicles asking what was the matter. When told, sev-
eral said, "Let's go down there and see what we can do."
Then they said, "How the hell are we gonna get down there
as steep as it is?" The first two said, "We'll try it," and they
slid down on their bellies. More followed. Those on the
roadway played their flashlights on the scene.
Ronald had been thrown partially clear, landing on his
back and right arm, which had cracked in half at the elbow
and was held to him by a slim piece of lacerated flesh. The
side of the jeep had fallen on his right leg and snapped it off
like a pretzel, just below the knee. He was unconscious,
bleeding profusely.


224 FALSE MEASURE
One soldier listened to his heart. "He's alive, but he
won't be alive long bleeding like that." He took off his shirt,
ripped two narrow strips from the back, and applied an im-
provised tourniquet to Ronald's right thigh. Another soldier
applied one to Ronald's arm.
Somebody was under that jeep. A half dozen hands
righted it. The driver had been crushed in a sitting position.
His neck and back were broken. He was dead.
A call went up to those on the embankment for medics
if there were any there. The request was passed back up the
roadway. Toward the end of the long line of halted traffic
there was a medical truck with a driver only. He had one
stretcher and nothing else in his truck. He brought up his
stretcher and threw it down. Where was the nearest hospital?
Quite a way, but the medical driver's emergency dispensary
was only five miles back; he would turn around, if someone
would hold up the traffic, and get the guy who was still alive
some emergency treatment and then they'd take him on to a
hospital.
"How the hell are we gonna get these guys up to the
road?" one soldier asked.
Someone answered, "A half mile back it's level and you
can walk right onto the road."
They put Ronald on the stretcher and four men trekked
him the half mile where they could climb to the roadway
easily. At that point they weren't far from the medic's truck.
Four other men carried the driver, one each to his legs and
arms. The bearers' way was lighted by men carrying flash-
lights in front of them and to their rear, guarding against
pitfalls.
Many on the roadway followed along with their flash-
lights beamed on them. By the time they placed Ronald's
driver in the truck, rigor mortis had begun to set in. Ronald
was carefully placed and covered with a blanket. One of the
bearers suddenly said, "Hey, we forgot this guy's leg."
Another answered, "What difference does it make? It's
no good to him now. That arm ain't gonna be any good to
him either."
A score of soldiers stood in the roadway and halted on-
coming traffic long enough for the medic's truck to turn


FALSE MEASURE 225
around and start to the dispensary with its tragic cargo. The
tank retriever had never stopped lumbering along. There
was a possibility that the driver didn't even know the griev-
ous calamity he had caused.
Ronald awoke in bed in a base hospital, in full possession
of his faculties for the first time in almost three days. He
sat up to get his bearings. What had happened wasn't clear
to him. At the moment he wasn't in pain. The drugs they
had kept him full of to ease his agony and induce sleep, had
spent themselves.
He shifted his position, sensed his missing leg, and with
his right arm automatically reached to touch the top of the
covers where his leg would have been. The arm couldn't
reach that far. When he realized that his forearm was gone
and the upper arm was bandaged from the elbow back, he
mumbled inaudibly and fainted on his pillow. The soldier
in the next bed had been watching him and called the nurse.
Then it was more drugs, to bring him to, this time.
On the night of the accident, no time had been wasted
getting Ronald out of the truck and on the examination
table in the dispensary. He was unconscious. The surgeon,
assisted by a technician, ligated the exposed blood vessels,
sutured the laid-bare flesh, and gave him a transfusion. Tem-
porary medications were applied. The operation was quick.
The surgeon felt Ronald's pulse. It was steady. "He'll
live. We'll let him rest there a while and then send him off
to base hospital. Call an ambulance. The personnel carrier
that brought him here will bounce him around too much."
Ronald began to stir, gaining consciousness. He muttered
unintelligibly, moved his head from side to side, grimaced
as if in torment. The technician asked him if he were in
pain. Ronald didn't answer. He continued muttering.
The surgeon observed him for a minute. "He's coming
out of it, but he's suffering. They don't always in cases like
this. Sometimes the shock eliminates the sensations of pain."
He injected morphine. "This will take care of him until he
gets to the hospital."


226 FALSE MEASURE
Hours later at the base hospital Ronald was given an-
other transfusion, followed by three more within the next
two days. Doses of barbiturates assuaged his suffering and
kept him calm, never more than half awake.
"No more sedatives," the ward surgeon said on the sec-
ond day. "He's physically sound, good heart, lungs, and all.
Was a healthy, strong chap. I want to see what his mental
reaction will be when he discovers his injuries. We'll have
to do a little more surgery on that leg and arm in a couple
of days. He shouldn't have any more pain but if he seems to
be suffering when he wakes up, let me know before you give
him anything."
The nurse was standing over Ronald when he opened
his eyes after his fainting spell. She smiled down at him.
"How do you feel today, sergeant?"
"All right, I guess. There's a lot I don't understand
though. What I'm doing here to begin with, and what hap-
pened to my leg and arm. Can you give me a fill-in?"
"Sure I can. What I know I got from your history sheet.
You were riding along a road somewhere with a driver and
the car ran off the road and down an embankment. It turned
over, killing your driver and cutting off your leg and arm.
You were given first aid by some passing soldiers and taken
to a nearby dispensary where you were given emergency
treatment. Then you were brought here."
"How long have I been here?"
"You're in your third day."
"And my poor driver was killed?"
"Yes, that's what the report said."
"That's tragic. He was a nice guy and a good driver. I
remember vaguely now. We were run off the road by a huge
approaching vehicle. I didn't make out what in the darkness.
I think it was a tank retriever. That's all I remember. It's
too bad about my driver."
Ronald took a deep breath, looked down at the flat
spread, held up the stump of his arm. "Maybe it would have
been better if I had been killed too. I won't be any good to
anybody in this condition."
"Don't say that, sergeant. In two weeks you'll be walking
around," the nurse said. She patted his face.


228 FALSE MEASURE
"No. I haven't. In fact, they haven't heard from me since
I left England, about four weeks ago. My last letters told
them they might not hear from me for some days. They've
read about the invasion by now and probably assume I was
in it."
Seating herself on the bench beside him, her back to the
piano, the nurse said, "You should write and let them know
you're here and doing all right."
"Doing all right?"
"I mean inform them you were injured and also that
you're recovering."
"Recovering? I'll never recover."
"Well, let's say then, you're recuperating or regaining
your physical strength. They've got to find it out someday,
soon, too, because you'll be going home in a few days. You
should prepare them beforehand for your homecoming and
what to expect. It will make it easier on both sides."
"First of all, I'm right-handed and I've got to train my-
self to write with my left hand. But that isn't the reason I
haven't written since I've been here. One of the Red Cross
workers offered to write dictated letters for me. You and the
other nurses would do it too, I know. It's that I've been so
depressed I know it would be conveyed in my correspond-
ence. I don't want to worry and upset them more than is
necessary. It would make matters worse if the letters came
in another person's handwriting."
"They could be typed."
"I could type out a letter myself with my left hand but I
haven't reached the right mental stage yet."
"I'll see that a typewriter is made available to you. You're
being transferred to an evacuation hospital in a couple of
days and from there home on the first boat or plane. If you
don't write promptly you might beat your letters home. You
will write? Right away?"
"Not today. What I'm going to say I'll have to turn over
in my mind all night, so I'll say it properly and cause the
least alarm. I'll write in the morning."
"Your parents?"
"My sister. She'll be able to take it better and then pass
it on gradually to my father. My mother's dead."


FALSE MEASURE 229
"Your fiance?"
"I'll write her a short note that I'm coming home. I'll
ask my sister to fill her in on the details."
"How do you feel about your engagement now?"
"I'm more confirmed in my conviction that for me to
insist she marry me as I am now, would be selfishly cruel.
Swept by sympathetic emotions she would undoubtedly
marry me as soon as I can get enough time off after I get
back. But I know she would regret it as time went on and my
limitations would become real, breaking through the com-
passionate impulses that impelled her into marriage with
me. We used to swim, ride horseback and bicycles, play
tennis, skate, and dance together. We were good at these
things and enjoyed them together. For me, those sprightly
pleasures are over. She liked to hear me play. I can no longer
do that. All these activities, delightful to both of us, made
companionship. Companionship is an important part of love.
Without it there is no love. We were in love. Now there is
no more of the companionship that caused us to fall in love,
so the love is gone, and I don't want anybody to marry me
out of pity. About the only part of our love that remains is
intellectual compatibility, and that's a far cry from full
love."
"Do you love her?"
"That question requires more than a simple yes or no
answer." Ronald fished a cigarette and packet of matches
from the right pocket of his robe. He put the cigarette to
his lips and, without being asked, the nurse took the matches
from his hand, struck and held one for him. He took two
deep draws, exhaled, watched the smoke billow across the
room. "Love is reciprocating," he continued. "I couldn't
love you if you didn't love me. Love is a compound. The
elements are a male and a female each contributing like
amounts. If I say I love you and you don't love me, I am
calling something love that isn't love. It might be that I
look up to you, or respect you for some particular achieve-
ment, or emulate you, or in my mind inflate some segment
of love in which we are compatible, such as bare sex, and call
it love, but it isn't. Since I'm no longer able to reciprocate,
I couldn't love my fiancee and she couldn't love me. We


230 FALSE MEASURE
were in love. I don't believe any finer example of love ex-
isted anywhere or at any time. Joan is in love with me as I
was, and I am unable to love her as I am. Together, the best
we could do today would be to reminisce. That would hold
us awhile. Later, being the lively, vivacious person she is, she
would become restless. And what would that mean? It would
mean she should have a companion in the areas where she
and I wouldn't be compatible. At first she wouldn't. She'd
suffer out of respect for my feelings, and I would suffer with
her knowing my inability to mitigate her predicament. At
length she would become irritable. Eventually, known or
unknown to me, she would, or should, have a companion to
fill out her life. Now, in answer to your question: no, I do
not love Joan. I do love and cherish my memories of our
former relationship."
The nurse was thoughtfully silent; then she said, "If I
were you I wouldn't make an irrevocable decision. You don't
know what her attitude will be. She may be unwilling to
permit you to break the engagement."
"As I said before, she'll want to marry me right away,
feeling sorry for me. But as time passes and we talk it over,
she'll understand why we shouldn't. And she'll be glad she
didn't."
"Yours is an unusual, yet I must say realistic, approach in
such a circumstance. You have a rare unselfishness. Some
other men I've talked with here, in worse condition than you,
expect their loved ones to be waiting for them with open
arms, however they return. Perhaps it would have been a
good thing for them to sit down and analyze their new sit-
uation as you have done. They would be able to meet their
homecoming problems more easily. And problems there will
be."
Ronald took a framed pocket-size photograph from his
robe pocket, handed it to the nurse. "This is my Joan."
She studied it. "Sergeant, she's gorgeous! Absolutely
beautiful!" She turned to him. "You mean to tell me a girl
like this wants to marry you and you would turn her down?"
She shook her head.
"I don't intend to spoil the memory of our love by mar-
rying her and seeing it deteriorate to a level where we would


234 FALSE MEASURE
Mildred. You're not that good an actress. Your nerves will
snap if you continue this way."
Abruptly, she stopped talking and momentarily looked
straight at him, her eyes filling and displaying all the warmth
that a loving sister has for a brother. Tears began to flow in
torrents and she buried her head in his chest and sobbed.
Ronald stroked her hair as she gave vent to her pent-up
emotions. She needed that cry. Her voice muffled in her
brother's chest, she said, "Ronald, I tried so hard not to do
this. But I couldn't help it."
He continued to brush her hair lightly with his hand. "I
understand, sis, you're not made of iron. Go ahead and have
it out."
"My darling brother!" she moaned. After a time she
raised her head, glanced around the room furtively to see
if she had been noticed, took a handkerchief from her purse,
and proceeded to dry her face.
Ronald was silent, his arm about her shoulder. Smooth-
ing powder on her face, and peering in the compact mirror
she held in front of her, she said, "I have so much to tell
you. Where shall I begin?"
"Suit yourself. No, begin with dad first, because after you
tell me about Joan I have some things to say and I would
like to learn both of their reactions before I begin talking."
"Well," Mildred commenced, "I received your letter on
the morning of the fourth day after you wrote it. They must
have sent it air mail. When I read it I very nearly collapsed
and it wasn't until late evening that I was in a presentable
condition to discuss its contents with anyone else. I called up
Joan about ten o'clock and told her I wanted to see her as
soon as possible. She said she wanted to see me right away
too because she had received a strange letter from you. She
doesn't live far from me so I was at her house in fifteen min-
utes. So much for that part of it. I'll go on to the part about
daddy and then come back to Joan.
"The next morning I telephoned daddy and told him I
had to see him very soon. He wanted to know if anything
had happened to me or my husband or if I needed money.
I told him no, nothing like that. It was that I had a letter
from you and wanted to talk with him about it. Do you


FALSE MEASURE 237
a near date. The president asked daddy if he had anyone in
mind he wished to be pastor of the church and daddy said
no, and that he didn't give a damn whom they chose so long
as they fired their present pastor. The pastor got wind that
daddy was in back of his removal and he went by one of
daddy's places and tried to see him. Daddy refused and sent
one of his men out to tell the minister that he ought to go
South and take over a country church. That's where he be-
longed, not in Boston. Or else he could get himself a jani-
tor's job.
"The following Sunday, the minister preached his last
sermon at that church. Daddy telephoned me and told me
that the church had a new young minister. The former pas-
tor was to be removed from the draft board because he no
longer occupied the position in the community that he held
when he was appointed. The new pastor will probably take
his place."
"Dad is certainly vindictive," Ronald said. "I might
have been sent to the Pacific and been killed, even if I had
been deferred until June, 1941."
Mildred took two cigarettes from her bag, put both be-
tween her lips in a V-shape, lit them, and handed one to
Ronald. "Chances are," she said, "if you had gone in the
Army some months later, you would have been sent to of-
ficers' school when you completed your basic training and
after that you'd have still been in the States training troops.
Daddy loves you and me and he would go to any lengths,
short of murder, to get even with anyone who does us harm.
And that preacher was certainly mean to you."
"I know dad loves us and that preacher appeared to be
unnecessarily hateful to me. Why, I don't know. Dad surely
got even with him but I don't know that I would have gone
that far."
"Well, you know daddy. Once he makes up his mind to
do something there's no deterring him." She paused. "Now
let me tell you about Joan. You remember I said I went to
see Joan the night after I received your letter. I had previ-
ously talked with her on the phone and she said she had
received a strange letter from you. I tried not to, but I sup-
pose I showed in my face that I had some grave information


244 FALSE MEASURE
with the counsel that he should get a good night's sleep.
"Lift your spirits, son," he said. "Everything's going to be
all right. I'll see to that."
"I'll do my best, dad, for your sake."
Ronald went to the orderly sitting at a table at the end
of the ward. It was two o'clock. "Will you do me a special
favor and mail this letter when you go off duty this morn-
ing? Without fail?"
"Of course, sergeant. I'll keep it right here in front of
me so I won't forget."
"Thanks a million. It's to my fiancee and I want her to
receive it tomorrow." Then he said, "I think I'll make a last
trip to the bath and turn in for good. Good night, corporal."
"Good night, sergeant."
Ronald had slowly and neatly printed the letter to Joan
with his left hand. It was waiting for her when she arrived
home from school. She had had an awful day in her classes.
She could think of nothing but Ronald. She was reluctant to
open the letter. He might have said some things to make
her feel bad. She sat in an armchair and tore it open. This is
what Ronald had written:
Dearest Joan:
The Ronald Gregory that you knew, loved you
as much as any man could possibly love a woman.
And I know you loved him.
I earnestly hope that ere long you will meet and
marry a man who will love you and make the good
husband that the Ronald Gregory you knew would
have made. You deserve no less.
Try to understand. I have grown weary of this
new life. Goodbye.
Fondly,
A different Ronald
Joan dropped her hands in her lap despairingly and the
letter slipped to the floor. She sat motionlessly staring at the
opposite wall. An hour later Prudence came in, took one
look at her still in the same position, and went over to her.
She put her arms around her and said, "Come on now, baby.
You can't go on like this."


252 FALSE MEASURE
thinking he was such a nice, sweet guy that she couldn't hurt
him and this thought made her press his arm tighter. Cours-
ing through his mind was the fact that he had wanted to
ask Joan to marry him ever since December but he had put
it off until what he considered a more propitious time. As
previously, reminiscences of Ronald abided with her but her
mourning now was less acute. Each knew the basis of the
other's thoughts.
They were silent until Clifford had seated himself be-
hind the wheel and stepped on the starter. The motor idled
and he said to Joan, standing on the sidewalk close to the
side of the car, "I won't come back for two weeks, Joan, and
by then I hope you will have arrived at your answer."
"I will, Clifford. Drive carefully."
During the following days and nights Joan gave weighty
consideration to Clifford's proposal. He wasn't bad to look
at, he had plenty of money, he was intelligent, he was kind,
thoughtful, and generous. With all that, he still wasn't a
Ronald. But where would she find another Ronald? She
could look the country over and not find one. There was the
question of age. She was twenty-three and he was thirty-nine.
A difference of sixteen years! On second thought, that wasn't
too bad, because look what Beatrice did. In the summer of
1941, when she was twenty-two, she had married a forty-five-
year-old widower, a judge from New York. He was more
than old enough to be her father. She couldn't have loved
him. She was after security. It almost broke Oliver's heart
when her engagement was announced and he said he knew
Beatrice didn't love that old man. The judge was in Boston
for a bar association meeting and Mr. Harrison brought him
home to dinner. He met Beatrice and in three months they
were married. Beatrice had sent Oliver an invitation to the
wedding but he didn't go. Beatrice didn't care; she knew
what she wanted. Getting back to Clifford, he's surely not
old enough to be my father and he probably has more money
than the judge .... Clifford isn't animated like Ronald, but
he has a cultured, reserved dignity. He's not as light as Ron-
ald either but he's certainly far from black. He wouldn't be
under consideration if he were.
"Oh, I should stop comparing him with Ronald and


FALSE MEASURE 253
accept or reject him on his own merits. Now the sex angle:
he's so dignified I can't imagine myself enjoying a night in
bed with him. Another thing, I bet Ronald wouldn't have
married a 'pig in a poke.' " She laughed to herself. "I should
put such vulgar thoughts out of my head."
Joan discussed Clifford with her father. He told her to
stop comparing Clifford with Ronald. At that rate she'd
never have a husband because she would never find anybody
exactly like Ronald. Besides, she might be overrating some
qualities she thought she found in Ronald and was looking
for in somebody else. "As you grow older," he said, "your
interests change. You associate Ronald with the fun you two
had as college kids. You don't know how he would have been
as a husband. He might have retained his carefree college
attitude too long after marriage and you might have become
disappointed in him. You're a grown woman now and have
been supporting yourself. You're maturing. Every time you
come home after an absence of months I see it more and
more. A woman like you should look for these main things
in a prospective husband: Does he have as much sense in
his head as you have? Can he be a good provider? Is his dis-
position such that you feel you won't be scrapping every
other minute after you get under the same roof with him?
There are other aspects which are important but you
couldn't find them all out until after you get married. And
if the man proves lacking in some matters, but meets the
main requirements, you make an adjustment to fit the sit-
uation. Naturally I don't know Clifford as well as you do,
but he appears to offer the three main requirements. How-
ever, the final decision is yours, not mine."
Joan noticed that her father hadn't mentioned sex but
she didn't bring it up. Joan admonished her father not to
let on that he had advance information if she should say yes
to Clifford and then Clifford should go to him to ask for his
daughter's hand.
During the third week of July, 1943, the following an-
nouncement, beneath a specially posed photo portraying all
Joan's delicate loveliness, appeared in the local Springfield
press:


254
FALSE MEASURE
Announcement has been made by Mr. and Mrs.
G. W. Turner of the engagement of their daughter,
Joan, to Clifford Farnsworth, son of Mr. and Mrs.
Henry Farnsworth. An early September wedding
has been planned.
Miss Turner is an alumna of Smith College and
Harvard University Graduate School, where she re-
ceived her Master's degree. She is an instructor on
the staff of the Mitchell High School in New York
City.
The prospective bridegroom was graduated from
the Wharton School of Finance, University of
Pennsylvania, and received his Master's degree
from the Harvard University Graduate School of
Business Administration. He is vice-president in
charge of the New York offices of the Alcorn Life
Insurance Company.
Having made up her mind to go ahead and marry
Clifford after weighing every factor, Joan dove into prep-
arations for her nuptials with a zest which belied her previ-
ous indecision. She took off for New York and ordered her
wedding gown and then went on an exuberant shopping
spree. The housing shortage brought on by the war was be-
ginning to manifest itself in New York but Clifford put
three real estate agencies to work and a six-and-a-half-room
apartment in an exclusive section was found for them. Joan
was satisfied with the bare apartment's size, location, and
potentials when the agency took them to see it. "Fix it up
as you wish. The sky's the limit," Clifford told Joan. She
sat down with decorators from W. & J. Sloane and planned
the d£cor and furnishings, some of which were not immedi-
ately available. Anyway, everything would be in readiness
in September before they would return from their honey-
moon. This was exciting! She hired a maid who was to be
on hand as soon as the apartment was ready. Clifford's facto-
tum would be around because Clifford was giving up his
bachelor apartment, or at least he was supposed to.
Meanwhile, Aunt Josephine gave Joan a linen shower
in Springfield and Prudence gave her a china shower in New


FALSE MEASURE 255
York. Mrs. Harrison cunningly decoyed her to Boston citing
a bogus, imminent tragedy and Joan, apprehensive, walked
into a miscellaneous shower. With wedding presents yet to
come she already had more gifts than she would be able to
get into her apartment. Some things would be packed away
until the scarcity of building materials eased and Clifford
could build her the house he had promised.
The fourth day of September, two days before the wed-
ding, Joan's clan began to converge on Springfield. The first
arrivals were for the rehearsal next day. After the rehearsal
Joan posed in her wedding gown for commercial photog-
raphers, local news photographers, and photographers from
the Negro newspapers in New York.
The wedding was held in the medium-sized red brick
Episcopal church where Mr. Turner was one of the wardens.
The weather was the kind all brides pray for — balmy and
sunshiny. Joan was married by the minister who had known
her since she was born. As she moved down the aisle on her
father's arm to the strains of Mendelssohn's wedding march,
the radiance and ethereal beauty that only Joan Turner pos-
sessed was accentuated by her exquisite gown of antique ivory
lace worn over an ivory satin slip. The sleeves were long and
close-fitting. The snug bodice was buttoned up the back by
tiny pearly buttons. The billowy, flared skirt had a train
three yards long. Her long, handmade lace veil was fastened
to a tiara of pearls.
Prudence was the matron of honor. All the bridesmaids
were not her closest friends. Most of her closest friends were
married, but they were there, some with their husbands. All
of Boston's Negro best was there, including Mr. (now
Judge) Harrison and Mrs. Harrison, Oliver, and Mr. Greg-
ory. Most of New York's Negro society was on hand,
represented by Mildred and her husband, Margaret and
hers, Helen Terrence, Beatrice and her husband Judge
Lynch, Prudence and her husband, and many more. Doris
was there with her naval officer husband. Edwina was there,
minus her husband who was in the Army overseas. Adrienne
came up from Richmond and her husband, who was in the
Coast Guard, joined her there. Other schoolmates at Smith,
the dean, and some of the professors came. All the close fam-


11
The self-service elevator door opened on the sixth floor.
Joan stepped off, strolled to the third door to the right, and
pushed the button. Many were the times she had entered this
door, Joan mused as she waited. Daily, during the year
she taught at Mitchell High School and frequently since.
This was the apartment of her closest friend. She could hear
Prudence coming to the door and saying to someone, "I
guess this is Joan."
Then Prudence opened the door and cried out, "Hi,
Joan, you gorgeous thing." They hugged each other, Joan
bubbling, "Hi, you pretty Spanish doll."
"For once you're on time," Prudence said as they walked
to the living room. Joan's fingers were at her neck unfasten-
ing her shoulder wrap when Prudence exclaimed, "Wait a
minute. Don't take that off yet. I want to see something." She
flicked on a brighter light. "That's new, Joan, and it's mar-
velous. With all the furs you've got — and I've seen them
all — even in the dark I knew this was a new one." It was an
expensively elegant Russian sable stole. "When did you get
it?"
Casually, Joan answered, "Today, from Clifford. This
is our eighth anniversary."
"It certainly is, Joan. Does time fly! Clifford is deter-
mined that you'll always be New York's best-dressed woman
and have everything else you want."
She took Joan's stole, hat, and gloves, and put them in
another room. When she returned, she took a seat beside
Joan on the lounge and said, "John's in the kitchen mixing
us some drinks. Before he comes in there's something I want
to ask you. Copulatively speaking, is Clifford still reneging?
We talked about it years ago, a few months after your mar-
riage and once or twice since, but recently we haven't dis-
cussed it and I wondered."
Joan sighed. "There's no change. Clifford realizes we're
257


FALSE MEASURE 259
Prudence called to John to hurry in with the drinks.
When he had set the tray containing soda, Scotch, and a
bowl of ice on the cocktail table and exchanged greetings
with Joan, Prudence told him to go in the back with a news-
paper and a drink and stay there until she and Joan finished
talking. "If the bell rings and it's Dick Robinson, keep him
back there with you until I call you."
"You certainly do order him around," Joan laughingly
remarked when John had left the room with a newspaper.
"He's like an old shoe," Prudence explained. "Ever
since Dunlap and I were divorced, which will be a year
next month, John has been my stand-by. Always a ready es-
cort and takes me anywhere I want to go, theater, shows, and
so on. He mentioned marriage to me once and I told him no
so sharply he hasn't mentioned it since. He's an architect,
has a good income. He's nice, too nice, but after my experi-
ence with Dr. Dunlap I'm not venturing into marriage
again soon. But don't let me get started on my problems.
Continue on with yours, I'll come back to mine."
She handed Joan a glass. Before taking a sip, Joan said,
"I really wouldn't care if that Robinson fellow doesn't show
up tonight. When I talk with you about my marriage — I
haven't talked with anyone else except a psychiatrist once,
and I wouldn't — it depresses me. I wanted with all my
heart to have a completely happy marriage and be a good
wife, and I tried. God knows I did. To an extent that al-
most caused me to have a nervous breakdown."
The two women thoughtfully finished their drinks and
put their glasses down. Prudence went across the room and
picked up a pack of cigarettes, took one out, and lit it. Then
she said, "Excuse me, Joan, will you have one? I was so busy
thinking, I forgot my manners."
"No thanks, Prudence, I prefer my own." Joan took one
from her purse.
Prudence sat down again. "You spoke of a psychiatrist.
I didn't know you had been to one."
"Yes, a long time ago, toward the end of my first year
of marriage. I haven't been back since. Whenever I have the
same symptoms I know what's the matter and don't need a
professional diagnosis. I'll return to that. Let's revert to Mex-


FALSE MEASURE 261
charitable organizations which utilized some of my time, and
I joined the Concordians. Clifford took me out often, as he
still does, so my days and evenings were rather full and my
mind didn't dwell on the inharmonious phase of our mar-
riage. Nevertheless, I began to become uninterested in my
many activities and some days I wouldn't go out. I felt I
needed a change — to what, I didn't know.
"I thought maybe if I started teaching again it might be
a help. I sought Clifford's approval but he put his foot down
firmly. 'My wife isn't going to work,' he said. 'You can have
anything you want, do anything else you wish, but not that.'
"My mood didn't improve. It became worse. I began to
suffer from insomnia and I lost my appetite. Clifford was
concerned and he would come in at night and force me to
eat, having learned from the maid that I hadn't eaten all day.
He would give me a big drink before dinner, expecting it to
give me an appetite, and another before retiring to make me
sleep. It didn't do any good. I became dull and nervous and
irritable. I bawled out my darling maid several times for
no reason whatever. She took it good-naturedly, believing
I was ill. One night I didn't close my eyes at all. Clifford had
the doctor there first thing in the morning. He examined
me as thoroughly as he could at home and found nothing
wrong. He asked me if I had any pains anywhere and I said
all I suffered was an occasional headache.
"I went to his office and he asked me if I was sleeping
and eating better. I told him both were worse. He gave me
an exhaustive examination and all the usual tests. When the
results of the tests were returned to him, he called me to his
office and sat me down for a conference. His first question
was, 'Is your appetite better and are you sleeping better?' I
said no to both.
"He said there was absolutely nothing wrong with me,
that I was a perfect physical specimen. Something was
troubling my mind, he said. What it was he didn't know.
Was I getting along with my husband? he asked.
"I said, 'Well... yes.'
"Sensing that I was averse to discussing family intimacies,
he said, 'I'm going to refer you to a good psychiatrist. He's
more competent to administer the type of therapy you need


264 FALSE MEASURE
"When I got up to leave he said there wasn't any use
coming back to him unless I brought Clifford. It would be a
waste of money because he couldn't give me any more advice
than he had already given. In brief, I needed a man. Suppose
he won't come in, I begged. What will I do? In that case
you'll have to solve your problem as best you can, he told
me. We shook hands and I left his office in a quandary. I
never went back because before I could broach the sub-
ject to Clifford, I learned of his clandestine actions."
"How did you find out, Joan? We both learned it at ap-
proximately the same time. I remember my big-mouthed
ex-husband laughingly telling me about it a day or two be-
fore I was at your house and you told me."
"My maid Emma told me. You see, Clifford never gave
up the apartment he had as a bachelor, although for a long
while I thought he had. George, whom you've seen working
around my house at times, was hired by Clifford about five
years before we married. He kept house for Clifford and
drove for him. He was a chauffeur-butler. After Clifford and
I were settled in our apartment, George drove for me when-
ever I wanted him to, and for Clifford. I also used him as a
butler whenever I needed him.
"It seems George had been drinking heavily one morn-
ing he was supposed to drive me downtown shopping. Emma
came to my room and told me she didn't think I should ride
with George that morning because he was drunk. She asked
me to take a look at him. I did and told him to go home and
sleep it off. When Emma went back to the kitchen where he
was, he told her that he would rather drive for Mr. Farns-
worth's girl friend than drive for me anyway. He said she
wouldn't be afraid to ride with him. He wasn't that drunk.
Emma was surprised and began to pump him. George was
glib. He told her Clifford had never given up his bachelor
apartment and that he, George, was still living there as care-
taker as he had before Mr. Farnsworth's marriage. He said
Mr. Farnsworth's girl friend lived there and Clifford visited
the apartment three or four times a week but seldom stayed
overnight, only preceding or immediately following an out-
of-town trip. You get it, don't you, Prudence? I would think


266 FALSE MEASURE
drive up here and drop Dunlap off and then go on because
he would be seen. Even you might have seen him. So, he told
Dunlap he had to make a stop and made the mistake of in-
viting Dunlap to come along. Dunlap noted George un-
loading Clifford's bags and was somewhat bewildered. Up-
stairs in the apartment he took the situation in. The girl
was there and acted as hostess. Clifford, not knowing how
talkative Dunlap is, asked him not to divulge his knowledge
of the hideaway or that he had encountered Clifford a day
earlier than he was supposed to be in town. Dunlap spent
the evening with them and came directly home and told me.
He didn't tell me about his own activities, but, knowing him
as I do now, he undoubtedly called one of his numerous
girl friends and had her meet him there. That was the basic
reason for our divorce. His many amours and his boldness
with them was more than I could stand. At least Clifford
keeps his hidden. Dunlap pointed out Clifford's girl friend
to me one time. She's attractive and dresses well."
"Yes, she is," Joan acknowledged. "A striking, flaming
redhead. I was driving Emma to one of her relatives in the
Bronx and she pointed her out to me. I've recognized her
on the street many times since. I'll never forget her. To this
day, I've never said anything to Clifford about his affair or
that I know he never gave up the apartment. The first few
days after I discovered it, I was torn between confronting
him with the evidence or filing for a divorce without saying
a word to him. I was in no mental condition to face him. My
remarks would have been too harsh. He was his usual kind,
thoughtful, soft-spoken self. I didn't want to hurt him and I
knew I would if I opened my mouth.
"All during the days I was turning over in my mind what
to do or what not to do I made it a point to be out when he
came home in the evenings and to come home late in order
not to have to talk to him. Sometimes he would be out and
at other times he would be in bed when I came in. As usual,
I would find flowers and other gifts set out in a conspicuous
location for me to notice. He would greet me pleasantly, as
he customarily did; he gave no appearance of being aware of
my further troubled state, in addition to the other, or that
I had been out so many evenings during dinner, or my dis-


268 FALSE MEASURE
"Let them stay there until we're through talking, if it's
agreeable to you. Soda?"
"Yes, fill it up. I guess it won't hurt them to stay where
they are a little longer."
"Tell me," Prudence asked, "what in the world does
Clifford think you've been doing about your sex life?"
"I don't know, we've never discussed it. Our position is
about the same as it was before we married, except that now
we're under the same roof together and he supports me
lavishly."
"Do you know what I think? Clifford looks upon you as
his beautiful little goddess. You are just that beautiful. And
subconsciously he feels that his divine lady would be defiled
by vulgar coitus. He possesses the psychology of the respect-
able young swain who courts the good girl not to be be-
fouled by sex, and has a bad girl to have fun with. The trag-
edy is his having carried this psychology over into his mar-
ried life. The taboos and interdictions taught him in his
younger days have confused him and rendered him impo-
tent insofar as his wife is concerned. He wouldn't admit
it in a discussion. It would take a psychiatrist to make him
see it.
"To him, you're on a pedestal. He wants you to be
smartly dressed, have beautiful homes, fine cars, and every-
thing else that goes with a woman like you, while he stands
off to observe you in various settings proudly soliloquizing,
'That's my gorgeous goddess.' Because of his inhibitions he
needs an aggressive woman who will brush aside his timidity
in sex matters and make up for his missing forwardness. He
has such a woman. You're not of that nature. If you should
suddenly act as she acts, it would be a terrible blow to him
and it would alter his conception of his unsullied goddess."
Prudence stopped for a moment. Her smile was pensive. "Do
you know if you were to divorce Clifford he'd blow his top?
He wouldn't be able to take it."
"Yes, I believe that, Prudence. All you've said it true. I
haven't wanted for a material thing since we've been mar-
ried. In fact, he's forever buying or offering to buy me things
I don't need or desire. Often reading the newspaper or maga-
zines, he'll see a gown, or jewelry, or furs, and he'll call me


270 FALSE MEASURE
"Beatrice has only one thing that I envy her for. Her
lovely son. I'll never have any children. Some of Beatrice's
malicious gossip about me has been irritating but I don't
hold any animosity toward her. It's up to me to keep her
from learning any of my business that she can spread. Un-
derneath it all, I suppose I still am fond of her and she's fond
of me."
"To see you two together one would think you were two
loving sisters," Prudence said.
"Maybe we should let the men come in now. We've
been talking a long time. I must go soon. I'm not in a
cheerful mood tonight, so I wouldn't be good company to
help you entertain your guests. And I'm not as interested in
Dick Robinson as I was last night. I'll simply tell him I have
to go. Afterward, you can tell him I'm ill or anything else
you wish."
"Okay, Joan. Take your time about making up your
mind when and if you want to see him again. You may not
like him. He'll worry me to contact you but I'll steer him
off. Now I'll call them." Prudence walked to the living room
door. "John, you and Dick can come in here now."
The two men came in and seated themselves, Dick after
greeting both girls. Then John asked what in the world they
could have been talking about so long.
"A problem that only concerns us two ladies," Prudence
answered curtly. "Now mix us all a drink. Joan's time is
limited."
"Only this one for me," Joan said, "and then I'll have to
leave."
"So soon?" Dick inquired.
"Yes. Maybe next time all of us will be able to spend
more time together. Tonight Prudence and I had an impor-
tant problem to discuss."
Joan held a brief, innocuous conversation with Dick
Robinson, finished her drink, arose, and bade the men good
night. Robinson's face showed disappointment.
At the front door Prudence said, "See you at the meet-
ing tomorrow afternoon. What are you going to wear?"
"I don't know. Hadn't thought about it." Joan pushed
the elevator button.


FALSE MEASURE 271
Prudence stood in the doorway. The car came. As Joan
entered, Prudence said, "I bet you'll wear something new."
"I bet you do, too." They both tittered.
"Good night, Joan."
"Good night, Prudence. It was nice talking with you to-
night. I need to get things off my chest now and then."
"I loved it."


12
"I'll park it for you, lady," the liveried doorman said,
opening Joan's car door when she pulled up in front of the
canopy of Flamingo's in the east Fifties. "I'll send the keys
in to your table, lady," he called to Joan as she entered the
revolving doors.
Adhering to her rule, Joan's arrival was late and spec-
tacular. She was enchantingly comely in a honey-beige, heavy
silk faille dress, interwoven with threads of gold. The bod-
ice, trim at the waist, was cut low with dropped shoulders.
Her clinging sleeves were bracelet length. The slender skirt
sheathed her neat posterior. Her elbow-length doeskin
gloves were pale green. Her ankle-strapped sandals were
beige suede and she carried a green suede purse. A pale
green felt picture hat, worn slightly back, shaded her face.
A pastel mink cape stole draped her shoulders. Her necklace
was antique gold with matching earrings and bracelet.
All the other club members were there when Joan en-
tered. They were seated at a long banquet table, amidst
palms and other large overhanging plants, sipping cocktails.
When they spied Joan a murmur went up. Here comes
our beautiful Joan. Isn't she glamor personified! Joan moved
from one to the other with her feminine greetings, a pat
here, an embrace there, a kiss on a cheek. She took her
seat between Mildred and Margaret. Each girl at the table
was fashionably dressed and attractive. Practically every one
of them looked white and the one or two who didn't would
have been taken for anything but Negroes. They had an-
other round of cocktails and then were served their lunch.
They gossiped and in small groups debated the issue for
which the gathering had been called.
At the end of the meal, Beatrice, lordly in manner and
seemly in her close-fitting hat and veil, rose from her chair
in the center of the table and called the meeting to order.
She said the meeting would be informal and that they had
272


FALSE MEASURE 275
you are a good deal more than that — I don't know how to
express it."
Joan smiled and nodded and the photographer moved
on. She slipped her arm in Clifford's. They walked over and
took seats at a table with Veronica and Helen, the two least
phony girls in their set.
Clifford started a conversation in a vein he and Joan had
covered before from opposite viewpoints. "There is money
to be made in these race relations organizations," he said.
"That is, by the Negro executives. I've been watching them
around here this afternoon and thinking what hypocrites
they are. My conscience wouldn't permit me to hold the jobs
they hold with the philosophy they entertain."
Joan was taken aback, knowing what his statement might
lead to. "Clifford, why do you say such things?" She added,
"No, let's not go into that. Other people may not have the
same views and might resent yours."
"I know exactly what Clifford means," Veronica chimed
in.
"I do too," Helen said.
Joan mildly commanded, "Clifford, order me a drink. I
can see the direction the conversation is going and I'll need
it."
Clifford signaled a waiter and ordered drinks for every-
body.
"Clifford means," Helen explained, "that the so-called
leaders of these organizations are not in touch with the
common Negroes they're supposed to represent. They con-
sider themselves better than they are and wouldn't mix with
them."
"To be a leader, you have to have followers," Veronica
added. "Who follows these guys? I'm glad you said 'so-called'
leaders, Helen."
Clifford went on, "The trouble is, these fellows are
listened to by responsible, powerful whites as authorities on
Negro problems, yet they have no contact with the Negro
mass — and won't. Can you imagine him," he pointed to a
prominent lawyer, "at a gathering where everybody present
was ordinary, rubbing shoulders with them, and listening to
their problems?"


282 FALSE MEASURE
It would be a long time before they would admit another
member to their select group.
The meeting over, Harriet's husband, in crisp apron and
chef's cap, was charcoal-broiling steaks, assisted by a waiter.
Whatever anyone wanted to drink was handy. The girls
gathered in small groups to gossip and converse about what
they had done and what they planned to do. There was talk
of the ballet, the opera, the theater. One made as many first
nights as possible. If not the first night, as soon after the
opening as one could. One must be able to say one saw this
or that play, opera, ballet, ice-show, and so on. Mildred was
at the piano. Harriet had her well-bred young son by the
hand and was leading him about to speak to the girls. Like
Beatrice's son, he attended an exclusive private school.
Helen was standing under the marquee of the Savoy,
waiting for her escort to rejoin her after parking his car up
the block. She was wearing a heavy crimson strapless gown,
with folds of the slim skirt draped on the left side. Her coat
was sable. It was eleven o'clock on the night of the Con-
cordians' exclusive dance. Veronica, in gold taffeta gown
and platina fox wrap, walked up to Helen on the arm of her
escort. Mildred, in a white satin brocade gown, gold sandals,
and pearl jewelry, got out of her car and went over to stand
with them while her husband parked their car. Beatrice, in
an ice-blue satin gown, blue satin sandals, diamond jewelry,
and a silver-blue mink coat came up to them on her hus-
band's arm. Along came Joan and Clifford; Joan was attired
in a black velvet gown with a snug-fitting strapless bodice.
Her skirt was long and flaring. Her necklace, earrings, and
bracelet were diamond, her wedding present from Mr.
Gregory eight years before. Her sandals were silver and her
black velvet evening bag was rhinestone-studded. Her wrap
was ermine.
Others joined the group. Police lines held back the
gapers on both sides of the entrance, keeping open a path
from the curb. There were police at the door with the at-
tendant to keep out gate-crashers. Just inside, Harriet was


FALSE MEASURE 283
handing a corsage of gardenias to each club member as she
came in.
A young Negro and his girl, who had planned an eve-
ning's dancing at the generally open-to-the-public Savoy, came
up to the police barrier, saw that the ticket window was
closed, observed the fashionably dressed cluster of people
under the marquee, and saw some more entering. He took
his girl friend's arm. "C'mon, baby, let's go. The dicty folks
have the place tonight."
Two white couples in street clothes, set for an evening's
sight-seeing in Harlem at the Savoy, certain that it was al-
ways open to the public, were baffled when they found the
ticket window closed; they were brusquely shooed away from
the entrance and told that admittance was by invitation
only. They took a position behind the police lines and
watched the smartly attired women accompanied by courtly
men in evening clothes file past, and were more confused.
They said, "Most of the women are white and fashionable.
Those who aren't white are fashionable too. So are the men."
This was contrary to their stereotyped conception of Negroes.
One man said, "I'll go over and ask one of those white
women in that group how we can get in, if the police don't
stop me." He walked around the crowd and out into the
street, coming under the marquee from the curb.
The two men who had been parking their cars came up,
joined their women and the gathering in jolly conversation,
and started moving toward the entrance. News photogra-
phers' bulbs flashed. Beatrice, swinging on her husband's arm,
was enjoying a laugh with Helen, when she felt someone
touch her arm. She turned her head and a strange man said,
"Lady, could you tell me where I can get an invitation?"
Beatrice halted, her gay countenance of a second before
disappearing, and with all the hauteur and frigid disdain
she had at her command, exclaimed, "How dare you speak
to me!"
Judge Lynch glowered at him. The man stuttered, "Ex-
cuse me, lady," and made for his waiting friends.
One of the policemen at the door, who recognized on
sight every prominent person who approached, apologized


284 FALSE MEASURE
to Clifford and the judge for their party's having been mo-
lested, and added, "I ran them away from here once. Now I'll
really send them on their way." He went over to the two
couples. "I told you once to get away from here! Now get
going. This is no night for your kind."
Still bewildered, they withdrew, not yet fully grasping
that what they had just witnessed was the same as lower Park
Avenue descending on the Savoy. There was no way in the
world they or their kind could have been there.
Joan preceded Clifford in the door after he had turned
the key. "It was a marvelous affair," she said, "and all the
girls looked very good."
"You're right. But none looked any better than you, and
hardly any as good."
"Thank you, Clifford."
"When the girls posed for the club picture I remarked to
Judge Lynch that you wouldn't find a prettier group of
women anywhere." Clifford sat down and pulled off his
shoes.
"I'm tired. That was too much dancing for a man my
age."
"Clifford, what are you saying? You're not nearly as old
as Judge Lynch and he spent most of the night on the dance
floor."
"Yes, I know."
Clifford was asleep when Joan had completed her toilette
and turned out her night light. She lay awake thinking of
her coming schedule. She had to go to Chicago for a regional
meeting of the NAACP. She would look up Doris, whom she
hadn't seen for over three years. She should answer her last
letter tomorrow .... Then on to Columbus to see Aunt
Agnes. She might not get back for Thanksgiving. Then on
to Boston for a few days. She and Clifford should be in
Springfield together Christmas Day. Grandpa would be
there and if she didn't see him this trip she might not ever
again, because he was aging so. They must be in New York








UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 02848 9303