A Woman's Place (30 page)

“Okay, sure. Meet us in Earl’s office after you punch out.”

After work, Jean assembled some of the equipment and tools that she had used to train her crew members and carried them into Earl’s office. It smelled of fresh paint. The mess had been tidied and the words covered over, but the window was still missing from his cubicle. Thelma and Helen arrived after their shifts, ready to work.

“If you’re worried about stirring up more hatred after everything that happened, Thelma, I’ll understand,” Jean told her. “We don’t have to do this.”

“I’m used to people not liking me,” she said matter-of-factly.

“It’s the way things are when your skin isn’t white.”

“I never imagined there was this kind of racism here in Stockton,” Helen said. “I read about those terrible race riots in Detroit last month, and I could hardly imagine such hatred. And now we have the same thing cropping up here. I suppose I’ve been sheltered, but even so …”

“It’s everywhere, Miss Helen. Best thing for a colored person to do is ignore it and get on with life. Best thing for a white person to do is thank God you weren’t born colored.”

They settled down to work, and within a few minutes Jean saw that Thelma was a very competent electrician. She would fit right in once she became familiar with the ship’s electronics. But as they worked, all three of them were aware that they were being watched. Not only were the time clocks and locker rooms close to Earl’s office, but many workers seemed to stroll past for no reason at all, as if curious to see what Jean and Helen and Thelma were up to.

They were just quitting for the day, when Earl returned to his office and noticed Jean’s college catalogs. “Helen gave them to me,” she told him. “One is for Purdue University in Indiana, and the other is for a college here in Michigan.”

“I remember you saying that you wanted to go to college after the war,” he said, leafing through them. “What did you want to study again?”

“Probably political science or history. I loved my U.S. Government class in high school. My twin brother and I might even go to law school together someday.”

“Great! Then you could run for office. We can always use a good, honest politician.”

“I’m not sure the world is ready for a female politician. But I loved doing campaign work to help Roosevelt win in the last election.”

“You’d also make a terrific judge, Jean. You’re a bright woman. I’m sure you could succeed at anything you put your mind to.”

“Thanks, Earl.”

Jean and Helen worked with Thelma every day for the rest of the week. “You’re ready to join our crew,” Jean told Thelma on Friday. “All we have to do is wait for an opening.”

“I sure appreciate what you and Miss Helen are doing for me, Miss Erickson.”

The unrest continued, even after the water fountain was repaired, and Earl received several threatening letters demanding that the Negro workers “stay in their place.” Jean knew it was because of Thelma. When she found a threatening letter stuffed through the vent in her locker, Jean crumpled it up and threw it away.

“Can I give you ladies a lift home?” Earl asked as they were leaving the factory on Friday afternoon. Helen and Thelma had come by bicycle, but Jean accepted his offer gladly. The heat wave had continued all week, and she was much too tired to face the long walk home.

She and Earl left the building together, talking about her college plans as they walked across the gravel parking lot to his car. He was about to unlock the doors when two men suddenly jumped out from behind a nearby car, wearing masks. Jean froze in fear.

“It’s the two Nigger lovers!” one of the men said. “Let’s teach them a lesson.” He gripped a billy club in his fist.

“Jean, run!” Earl said. “Go!
Now!
” He gave her a push to get her started, but he didn’t run with her.

She glanced over her shoulder as she stumbled back toward the factory and saw that one of the men had started to chase her. Earl sprang sideways to block his path. “Run, Jean!” he yelled again.

Jean’s feet felt huge and clumsy as she raced toward the building, dodging between cars. It seemed a long way off. She tried to scream for help, but no sound came out. When she looked over her shoulder again she saw both men attacking Earl. Why wasn’t he running from them? They were bigger and stronger than he was, but he stood his ground, fighting both of them so she could escape. Then she remembered that Earl couldn’t run. The knowledge that they would pick on a crippled man made Jean so furious that she sprinted into the building with an angry burst of speed. She heard the sound of breaking glass in the distance behind her and knew they were smashing his car windows.

“Help!” she finally screamed as she burst through the door. “Somebody help!” The clamor from inside the factory, along with the vast acreage of the place, seemed to swallow her pitiful voice. “Somebody help us!”

She ran to the nearest office cubicle and screamed, “Call the police! They’re attacking Earl Seaborn!”

“What? Who is?” the shift foreman asked.

“Two men! Outside in the parking lot. You’ve got to help him!”

She ran back to the door, followed by the foreman, a maintenance man, and several of the workers from the production line. Jean sprinted across the parking lot, leading the way, but there was no sign of Earl or his attackers. She ran in the direction of his car and found Earl sprawled in a heap on the ground, covered in blood.

“Earl! Earl!” she cried as she knelt beside him. He didn’t move. She was terrified that they’d killed him. The foreman knelt beside her and rolled Earl over.

“He’s still breathing,” he said. “Somebody call an ambulance!”

A gawking crowd quickly gathered around them. Jean lifted Earl’s head onto her lap and stroked his hair. Blood from the gash above his eye stained her slacks, but she didn’t care. “Earl! Earl, wake up!”
Oh please, God. Let him be okay
.

It seemed as though hours passed before Jean finally heard sirens. One of the maintenance men ran out to the street to direct the ambulance driver. It halted nearby and a medic leaped from the back of it.

“What happened, miss?” he asked as he listened to Earl’s heart with a stethoscope.

“T-two men jumped out from behind his car … and … and they started beating him with clubs. This is Earl’s car—what’s left of it.” Every window had been smashed, the fenders and roof dented in.

“Let’s get him to the hospital.” The medic retrieved a stretcher, and the foreman and one of the maintenance men helped lift Earl onto it and load him into the ambulance.

“I want to go with him,” Jean said.

“Are you a family member?”

“No, but I … I was with him. I saw the men attack him. He protected me.”

“You’d better stay here if you were a witness. The police will want to talk to you.”

“Tell them I’m at the hospital,” she told the foreman. She turned back to the ambulance driver. “Please, I don’t want to leave him. He’s my friend. Let me come with you.”

The driver gestured to the open rear door. “Okay, get in.”

Jean climbed into the back of the ambulance, and the driver slammed it shut. The attendant worked on Earl as the vehicle began to move, examining his wounds, applying a compress to stop the bleeding, taking his blood pressure. The ride to the hospital in the speeding van turned out to be a wild one. Jean hung on to the little seat with both hands, the wail of the siren deafening her.

“Is he going to be all right?” she asked above the noise.

“Don’t know. Looks like he might have a head injury.” He said it so ominously that Jean began to cry. She tried to pray, repeating the words
Please, God … please,
over and over. She didn’t want to take her eyes off of Earl.

There was a flurry of activity once they reached the hospital. One of the emergency-room nurses made Jean stay behind in the waiting room. “He’ll need X-rays,” the nurse told her. “It’s going to be a while.”

“Will he wake up? Why isn’t he waking up?”

“We’ll know more after the doctor examines him.”

“Please come back and let me know how he is!”

Jean found a pay telephone and called Patty to tell her what had happened. Her fingers shook so hard she could barely put the coin into the slot. She had just sat down again to wait when a policeman arrived to take her statement. Jean struggled to gather her thoughts.

“I … I work with Earl at the shipyard. Two men attacked him and beat him up…. It’s because of the colored workers—Earl let them use our water fountain. He has been standing up for them. And he protected me from … from the two men.”

“Can you describe his assailants, Miss Erickson?”

“They wore bandanas over their faces and hats—ordinary hard hats, like from the factory. They were in work coveralls. Only one of them spoke. He called Earl and me ‘Nigger lovers.”’

“Any idea who they could be?”

“I didn’t recognize their voices. There must be hundreds of men who work there, and a lot of them aren’t happy about integrating. They vandalized Earl’s office and sent us threatening notes. And a bunch of people walked off the job because they didn’t want to share the drinking fountain.”

The whole mess seemed unbelievable to Jean. And now it had ended in violence. She couldn’t understand how the policeman could sit there calmly writing everything down. Why wasn’t he outraged, as well?

He asked her a few more questions, then left. Jean stood and began to pace, too worried to sit still. Why was it taking so long for the doctor to examine Earl? What if he died? She realized that she didn’t know anything at all about his family. Earl was her friend, yet she’d never bothered to ask him about himself. She slumped in the chair and bowed her head to pray. At last a doctor came out to talk to her.

“Are you here with Earl Seaborn?”

“Yes. Is he going to be okay?”

“He has regained consciousness, so that’s a good sign. The attackers broke his nose and his left clavicle, cracked three ribs, and fractured his radius. He’s badly bruised and has a moderate concussion. We want to keep him overnight because of the concussion and make sure there’s no brain swelling. He’s going to be pretty sore, but it looks like he’ll recover.”

“May I see him?”

“If you keep the visit short.”

Earl was still in the emergency area behind a curtain, waiting to be transferred to a room for the night. His face was so badly bruised, his nose so swollen, that Jean hardly recognized him. He opened his eyes when she entered.

“Hey, Jean. What are you doing here?” He sounded groggy.

“I was worried about you. Are you okay? No, that’s a stupid question. Of course you’re not.” All her worry and fear suddenly came to a head, and she started crying again. She looked around for a tissue.

“I’m in the hospital,” Earl said slowly, “but I don’t remember why. They said I got beat up?”

“Yeah. Two guys from work attacked you with clubs. It was because of the drinking-fountain thing and because of Thelma.” Jean reached for his hand and held it, stroking it. She realized after a moment that it was the hand he usually kept hidden in his pocket. The other arm was in a cast.

“Hard to believe someone would get violent over a water fountain, isn’t it?” he asked. He gave a sad half smile. “Did I at least put up a good fight?”

“You were wonderful! You fought off two of them so that I could get away! The army made a huge mistake when they turned you down. You would make a very courageous soldier.”

“It’s hardly the same thing.”

“No, it’s exactly the same thing whether you’re wearing a uniform or not. Those cowards have the same attitude that created Hitler and Mussolini. You finally got to fight in the war, Earl. You were wounded in a battle for someone else’s freedom. It’s exactly the same thing.”

He smiled slightly and closed his eyes. “I’ve got a whale of a headache. I actually saw stars—you know, like in the cartoons when someone gets whacked on the head?”

“Do you want me to call anybody for you? Your family?” He shook his head. She could see how weary he was. “I should probably go. They said you could go home tomorrow. Do you want me to see if Helen will drive you? Your car is in worse shape than you are.”

“After work?” he mumbled.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ll come back when you’re discharged and see that you get home, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

She was so glad he wasn’t dead that she had the urge to bend over and kiss his forehead. But Earl Seaborn was her boss. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea and think that she cared about him in that way. Her eyes filled with tears. She did care—more than she had ever realized. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze instead.

“I’m so glad you’re going to be all right.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

An orderly entered, drawing the curtain aside. “Okay, Mr. Seaborn, we’re going to take you up to your room now.”

“See you tomorrow, Earl.”

Jean called Helen Kimball as soon as she got home, and Helen readily agreed to drive Earl home from the hospital tomorrow. When she called Ginny and Rosa, they wanted to come along, too. They both offered to cook something for Earl since he’d be helpless for a while. “That’s a great idea,” Jean said.

She rose early on Saturday morning to make fried chicken for him and was transferring it to another container when she heard a knock on the front door. Thinking Helen must have arrived a little early, Jean swung open the door, expecting to see one of the girls from work. Instead, Russell Benson stood on her doorstep.

“Hi, Jean.”

“W-what are you doing here?”

Russ pulled her into his arms and held her for a long moment. Then he bent to kiss her. “That’s what,” he said when he finally pulled away. “I missed you, Jean.” She fell into his arms again, and he held her tightly, his face pressed against her hair. He let out a deep sigh. “I’ve been acting like an idiot. I don’t want to fight anymore. Do you think you can forgive me and we can try again?”

“Of course, Russ!” She was so happy she started to cry. Jean couldn’t believe it! Russ still loved her. He’d come back to her after all these months, after all her tears. They were kissing again when Patty hurried in from the kitchen, interrupting them.