John Passos - 1919

“No, I doan’, Webb,” said Daughter after a pause.

Webb looked at her in a puzzled way as he brought her a cup of tea and some buttered toast with a piece of cheese on it. They ate in silence for a while; it was so quiet they could hear each other gulping little swallows of tea. “Now, what in Jesus Christ’s name did you mean by that?” Webb suddenly shouted out.

Daughter felt warm and drowsy in her blanket, with the hot tea in her and the dry gasheat licking the soles of her feet. “Well, what does anybody mean by anything,” she mumbled dreamily.

Webb put down his teacup and began to walk up and down the room trailing the blanket after him. “S — t,” he suddenly said, as he stepped on a thumbtack. He stood on one leg looking at the sole of his foot that was black from the grime of the floor. “But, Jesus Christ, Anne… people ought to be free and happy about sex… come ahead let’s.” His cheeks were pink and his black hair that needed cutting was every which way. He kept on standing on one leg and looking at the sole of his foot. Daughter began to laugh. “You look awful funny like that, Webb.” She felt a warm glow all over her. “Give me another cup of tea and make me some more toast.”

After she’d had the tea and toast she said, “Well, isn’t it about time we ought to be going uptown?” “But Christ, Anne, I’m making indecent proposals to you,” he said shrilly, half laughing and half in tears. “For God’s sake pay attention… Damn it, I’ll make you pay attention, you little bitch.” He dropped his blanket and ran at her. She could see he was fighting mad. He pulled her up out of her chair and kissed her on the mouth. She had quite a tussle with him, as he was wiry and strong, but she managed to get her forearm under his chin and to push his face away far enough to give him a punch on the nose. His nose began to bleed. “Don’t be silly, Webb,” she said, breathing hard, “I don’t want that sort of thing, not yet, anyway… go and wash your face.”

He went to the sink and began dabbling his face with water. Daughter hurried into her skirt and shoes and stockings and went over to the sink where he was washing his face, “That was mean of me, Webb, I’m terribly sorry. There’s something always makes me be mean to people I like.” Webb wouldn’t say anything for a long time. His nose was still bleeding.

“Go along home,” he said, “I’m going to stay here…. It’s all right… my mistake.”

She put on her dripping raincoat and went out into the shiny evening streets. All the way home on the express in the subway she was feeling warm and tender towards Webb, like towards Dad or the boys.

She didn’t see him for several days, then one evening he called and asked her if she wanted to go out on the picket line next morning. It was still dark when she met him at the ferry station. They were both cold and sleepy and didn’t say much going out on the train. From the train they had to run through the slippery streets to get to the mills in time to join the picket line. Faces looked cold and pinched in the blue early light. Women had shawls over their heads, few of the men or boys had overcoats. The young girls were all shivering in their cheap fancy topcoats that had no warmth to them. The cops had already begun to break up the head of the line. Some of the strikers were singing Solidarity Forever , others were yelling Scabs, Scabs and making funny long jeering hoots. Daughter was confused and excited.

Suddenly everybody around her broke and ran and left her in a stretch of empty street in front of the wire fencing of the mills. Ten feet in front of her a young woman slipped and fell. Daughter caught the scared look in her eyes that were round and black. Daughter stepped forward to help her up but two policemen were ahead of her swinging their nightsticks. Daughter thought they were going to help the girl up. She stood still for a second, frozen in her tracks when she saw one of the policemen’s feet shoot out. He’d kicked the girl full in the face. Daughter never remembered what happened except that she was wanting a gun and punching into the policeman’s big red face and against the buttons and the thick heavy cloth of his overcoat. Something crashed down on her head from behind; dizzy and sick she was being pushed into the policewagon. In front of her was the girl’s face all caved in and bleeding. In the darkness inside were other men and women cursing and laughing. But Daughter and the woman opposite looked at each other dazedly and said nothing. Then the door closed behind them and they were in the dark.

When they were committed she was charged with rioting, felonious assault, obstructing an officer and inciting to sedition. It wasn’t so bad in the county jail. The women’s section was crowded with strikers, all the cells were full of girls laughing and talking, singing songs and telling each other how they’d been arrested, how long they’d been in, how they were going to win the strike. In Daughter’s cell the girls all clustered around her and wanted to know how she’d gotten there. She began to feel she was quite a hero. Towards evening her name was called and she found Webb and Ada and a lawyer clustered around the policesergeant’s desk. Ada was mad, “Read that, young woman, and see how that’ll sound back home,” she said, poking an afternoon paper under her nose.

TEXAS BELLE ASSAULTS COP said one headline. Then followed an account of her knocking down a policeman with a left on the jaw. She was released on a thousand dollars bail; outside the jail, Ben Compton broke away from the group of reporters around him and rushed up to her. “Congratulations, Miss Trent,” he said, “that was a darn nervy thing to do… made a very good impression in the press.” Sylvia Dalhart was with him. She threw her arms around her and kissed her: “That was a mighty spunky thing to do. Say, we’re sending a delegation to Washington to see President Wilson and present a petition and we want you on it. The President will refuse to see the delegation and you’ll have a chance to picket the White House and get arrested again.”

“Well, I declare,” said Ada when they were safely on the train for New York. “I think you’ve lost your mind.” “You’d have done the same thing, Ada darlin’, if you’d seen what I saw… when I tell Dad and the boys about it they’ll see red. It’s the most outrageous thing I ever heard of.” Then she burst out crying.

When they got back to Ada’s apartment they found a telegram from Dad saying Coming at once. Make no statement until I arrive. Late that night another telegram came; it read: Dad seriously ill come on home at once have Ada retain best lawyer obtainable. In the morning Daughter scared and trembling was on the first train south. At St. Louis she got a telegram saying Don’t worry condition fair double pneumonia. Upset as she was it certainly did her good to see the wide Texas country, the spring crops beginning, a few bluebonnets in bloom. Buster was there to meet her at the depot, “Well, Daughter,” he said after he had taken her bag, “you’ve almost killed Dad.”

Buster was sixteen and captain of the highschool ball team. Driving her up to the house in the new Stutz he told her how things were. Bud had been tearing things up at the University and was on the edge of getting fired and had gotten balled up with a girl in Galveston who was trying to blackmail him. Dad had been very much worried because he’d gotten in too deep in the oil game and seeing Daughter spread all over the front page for knocking down a cop had about finished him; old Emma was getting too old to run the house for them anymore and it was up to Daughter to give up her crazy ideas and stay home and keep house for them. “See this car? A dandy ain’t it…. I bought it myself…. Did a little tradin’ in options up near Amarillo on my own, jus’ for the hell of it, and I made five thousand bucks.” “Why, you smart kid. I tell you, Bud, it’s good to be home. But about the policeman you’d have done the same yourself or you’re not my brother. I’ll tell you all about it sometime. Believe me it does me good to see Texas faces after those mean weaselfaced Easterners.” Dr. Winslow was in the hall when they came in. He shook hands warmly and told her how well she was looking and not to worry because he’d pull her Dad through if it was the last thing he did on earth. The sickroom and Dad’s restless flushed face made her feel awful, and she didn’t like finding a trained nurse running the house.