When Washington Was In Vogue

by Edward Christopher Williams

  “Bored!” said Sallie Cole. “If ever I get a chance to sit down again, I know my poor feet will appreciate it. I just know I have danced at least halfway around the globe since Wednesday evening. If Mr. Carr will regulate his blushes, I’ll tell you something. I have had my slippers off ever since we’ve been sitting here.”

  So they all turned in to try to get some much-needed sleep, for the next day bade fair to be the biggest day of all.

  I went to my room, and got ready to turn in. After I snapped out the light, I went to the window, threw up the shade, and stood looking out over the city. Very, very faintly there came to my ear the sounds of dance music from some belated function. Then the loud guffaw of someone in the street broke the stillness, followed by the shriller laughter of a girl. By some curious shift, my mind went back to Johnson’s haggard face, and the Dyer Anti-Lynching Bill, being slowly strangled to death, strangled to death to the sound of jazz music played by a dozen orchestras, while hundreds and hundreds of educated, refined, prosperous colored people danced themselves haggard and lame between Wednesday night and Sunday morning! I felt a curious sense of dissatisfaction with myself and mine, a feeling as of impending misfortune. I went to bed, to sleep restlessly and to awake unrefreshed.

  As I write these words, Caroline is singing love songs and accompanying herself on the piano, to the infinite delight and unrest of Dr. Corey, who has been here since twelve o’clock. It is now two, and I have been writing since early morning. I guess I might better stop here, and mail this today, hoping to be able to finish my recital tomorrow. If I add any more to this episode I won’t have an envelope big enough to hold it.

  While I was writing the above lines, Thomasine passed my door, and stopped long enough to say that Dr. Corey is going to stay over until tomorrow. Caroline is going to have him in for supper tonight, and wants me to be sure and come in early, as they are going to sit down about nine. So I have promised to be here.

  I hope you do not feel as dissipated as I do. Tell me more about your new friend. I like her immensely. By the way, look up Antoinette and Sallie Cole. You will find them very nice girls. I told them about you, and they promise you a warm welcome. Until next time, Bob, I am, etc.

  Davy

  More Thanksgiving. Dr. Corey again. Davy warns the boys. An old-fashioned proper lover. Conversational spending.

  Monday, December 4, 1922

  Dear Bob:

  I have had an early dinner, and shall devote the rest of the evening to finishing up the narrative of the Thanksgiving festivities. I believe I left off with a description of Friday evening’s party.

  Caroline had told me that Dr. Corey wanted me to come to the breakfast at the Whitelaw Saturday morning, but I begged off. I promised to do some lobbying at the Capitol, and as I said before, I felt that I did not care to compete with the college boys and the flappers in my devotion to the Goddess of Pleasure. Four riotous evenings and one whole day in one short week seemed quite enough. After all, every element of human life has its value, and the whole trouble comes in connection with the proportions of each. That’s quoted from Don Verney. If you will think it over carefully, you will agree that it is hard to dispute successfully.

  So I left the household to its unbroken round of gaiety, to follow the harder path of virtue, and I saw none of the family again until six, when I stopped in at the Wellmans’ dancing party, which was given at one of the local balls. It was a very pretty party, and I saw most of my friends there. Some of them were a bit groggy by this time, and showed it, but they were determined to do or die. In the social game one must never show the white feather, and these folks surely play the game to the limit.

  Dr. Corey’s big car was the first thing I saw as I approached the theater which shelters the Colonnade, and within the hall the doctor was certainly showing the proper zeal. He danced every dance, and spent every possible minute with Caroline. However, he had a hard time, for she was surrounded by the young fellows practically all the time she was not dancing. In the short while I was there, she seemed, to judge from the attentions she got, easily the most popular person present. If she had planned to show her older suitor how high a valuation is set on her by her own crowd, she could not have staged the exhibition better. Corey is quite evidently a person who thrives on discouragements. A man of his type rarely fails to get what he wants, and he has made up his mind that this world without Caroline Rhodes is a very empty place indeed!

  I took the crowd to dinner at the Whitelaw. I had arranged for special service, and it was very nice. Dr. Corey was included, and he took us all in his car. We did not dally too long at the table, for the ladies wanted a few minutes to relax and rest before the evening function.

  The final affair of the week was a fancy-dress party at the Casino. As I had heard that most of the men would go in evening dress, and leave the fancy-costume dressing to the ladies, I decided to follow the crowd, and, as it turned out, I was glad I did so. However, I have noticed that a fancy-dress party loses somewhat in effectiveness when any large proportion of the guests are in ordinary conventional dress. Thus it was at this one, though many of the fancy costumes were very pretty.

  Many of the guests, in spite of their makeup, and the fancy-dress feature gave them unusual opportunities for that, looked jaded and haggard, and it was plain that some were just going through the motions of enjoyment. But exhausted or not, they were game to the end. Dr. Corey had evidently inveigled Caroline into promising him several dances in advance, for she danced with him oftener than with anyone else, and she was surrounded, as usual, between dances. The young doctor from New York, I almost forgot to tell you, gave up in discouragement, and went home Saturday morning. Youth—which has so much more of time—is so much more impatient than maturity. Queer, is it not?

  I had a very delightful evening, personally. I danced three times with Lillian Barton, and since Miss Chester, who was my special company for the evening, was very busy flirting with some chap from Philadelphia, and since Reese was so busy dancing attendance on his numerous out-of-town friends, I was able to have one or two little tête-à-têtes with that same lady.

  By the way, Scott Green was present, and so was the chap Lacy, whom I mentioned in connection with the Baltimore adventure. I had not seen Lacy since the exciting moment when I actually threw Miss Hunt into his surprised arms. Under ordinary circumstances I suppose I should have gone back to the hall that night to apologize to Miss Hunt, or, at any rate, have sent her an explanation through Scott Green, but to tell the truth, I felt then, and still feel, that she and Lacy were helping out Jeffreys.

  I discovered that Lacy was present in this wise. I saw a crowd of the men, among whom I recognized Verney, Reese, and two or three other friends. They were listening with evident interest to a story told by a man in the center of the group, whose face was hidden from me. This is about what I heard as I came within earshot:

  “This old chap used to follow pugilism, and had been in his day at times sparring partner, trainer, or rubber in the camps of some of the biggest fighters years ago. Bob Fitzsimmons, especially, is his particular hero. When I got there, they had sent for the boss to look Jeff over. To tell the truth, we all thought he was dead. I never saw any man with life in him look quite as dead as he looked. The boss was frightened, for he did not want any police scandal, so he sent for a crooked doctor whose office is a few doors away, and who could be counted on to help him hush up the matter. While we were waiting for the doctor, this old geezer was telling us all about it. ‘Wish day might strike me daid, ef I evah saw a man hit so quick and so ha’d. Ef he wuz a black man, I’d say it mus be dis here French nigger Seekee dey’s all talking about.’ Well, the doctor came, and he revived Jeff, but he was the sickest man you ever saw. I don’t believe he knows yet just what happened.”

  You can imagine how I felt to have Lacy retailing the story to that crowd. Not that I am trying to work any false modesty on you, Bob, but I had hoped to have Caroline and her family spared this unnece
ssary publicity. I learned since that Lacy was considerate enough to withhold her name, but, from what I know of the folks in this burg, once they have gotten hold of one end of the string they won’t rest until they find the other.

  While Lacy was talking, I turned and slipped away, but of course, it was not many minutes before all the men, and some of the women, too, were joking me about the matter. Tommie got wind of it, and talked to Lacy, and then I saw them both talking to Caroline. I could only imagine what they were talking about from the way Caroline looked at me the next time we passed each other dancing. One of her characteristics has some very good points in its favor. I refer to her directness. “The soonest said, the soonest mended,” is her motto. The silences of repression are the most uncomfortable things in the world. I think we would all of us admit that. Well, Caroline never suffers in that way, nor permits anyone else to suffer so. The next time we met face-to-face, she said:

  “Godfather, if you’ll promise never to chastise me, I’ll promise to be very good. They tell me you are a very rough old dear.” And she smiled her most winning smile, as did all the other ladies whom I knew. And this is the tribute of the gentler sex to a brutal manifestation of mere animal strength!

  I feel sorry for Dr. Corey. He is completely subjugated. He worships Caroline. It is touching to note how he follows her with his eyes. I firmly believe there is nothing in the world he would not do to please her. I have a new opinion of her from watching her since this new adorer appeared on the horizon. She does not tease him, nor make a show of him, nor try to make him ridiculous in any way. Indeed, it seems rather as if she realized how likely the discrepancy in their ages is to lay him open to ridicule and laughing comment, and she tries very hard to forestall the possibility of such a thing. Either she is really touched by his admiration, or she respects him very much. As I have watched her, I have wondered how many young girls would give up the opportunity of making such a spectacular sacrifice to their own vanity.

  While I was writing to you Sunday morning, Corey took them all sightseeing and they got back at noon, and then the others considerately gave him the field. When I left the house at three he had just gone, with the expectation of returning in the evening for supper. The girls’ room is full of evidences of his admiration, for he has sent flowers every day, and candy galore. It’s a very bad case indeed!

  I had invited Scott Green to remain overnight with me Saturday, so, while I was writing to you Sunday, he accompanied the folks on the sightseeing tour as the special company of Thomasine Dawson, with whom he is very much smitten. I asked Miss Barton if I might bring him to tea in the evening, and she said she would be delighted to have him. We spent a very pleasant evening, and Green, like everyone else, was charmed with Miss Barton and pleased with my other friends. It was with regret that we left early, to keep our promise to be in time for supper at the Rhodeses’. As the New York and Brooklyn folks were going on the midnight train, the house was full of callers, and the supper, in consequence, was a kind of informal stand-up, catch-as-catch-can affair, but we had a very jolly evening for all that.

  At eleven-thirty the visitors, including my friend Green, took their leave, and were taken to the station by the very useful Dr. Corey. His car holds seven very well, but he assured us that eight would be comfortable. Genevieve was, of course, thinking of going, but the good doctor looked so heartbroken at the thought of leaving Caroline behind that Genevieve said she would let Caroline represent the family. Green very properly insisted on taking a cab, but the rest would not hear of that, so they crowded in, and were whirled away, leaving Mrs. Rhodes, Genevieve, Tommie, and me to close up the house, which seemed so quiet and empty after the lively scenes of the past two days.

  I went up to my room to smoke a quiet pipe before turning in, and, when Tommie came up to go to her room, I invited her in. So she sat down to wait for Caroline. Naturally, the talk turned on that young lady and her ardent new flame.

  “What do you think of it?” said I.

  “I hardly know,” said Tommie, “but she will have to face the question seriously, for he is crazy about her, and wants to marry her. He says he knew it five minutes after he laid eyes on her. You ought to hear him rave about her.”

  “Oh, I have,” I said, and we both laughed.

  Then I queried, “Has he asked Caroline yet?”

  “I don’t believe he has,” said Tommie, “but he quite probably will tonight. He is going tomorrow noon, I believe.”

  Tommie thinks he is not only a real man, but also a gentleman, and I agree. He leaves one in little doubt as to his character. There is a very attractive directness about him—I liked him myself very much, and when Tommie said she liked him, that settled it. We both agreed, however, that he seemed too old for Caroline and that was our one objection. To my mind Caroline is such a rare embodiment of the very spirit of youth that such a match seems really incongruous.

  We were still discussing the subject when Caroline came in. I looked at the clock. They had not taken many minutes from the station and the doctor did not linger at the door. These thoughts flashed through my mind when I heard her coming up the stairs: “Either he is a very proper lover, or he has asked and been rejected.” When Caroline came in, she threw herself on the couch and heaved a deep sigh of relief.

  “My, but won’t it be nice to stretch out tonight!” she said.

  Tommie, usually so calm and patient, could hold in no longer.

  “Well,” she asked, “did he pop the question?”

  Caroline laughed, looked at me, blushed, then laughed again. For some occult reason, I felt embarrassed, and under the battery of the two pairs of black eyes, I could feel myself growing red. Tommie looked from one to the other of us, and then said:

  “What are you two people trying to do? Run a race? Which one is the redder I can’t, for the life of me, tell!”

  Then we all three laughed and Tommie returned to her original question.

  “No,” said Caroline, looking mischievous this time, “he didn’t, but he says he is coming tomorrow morning to talk to Mamma— whatever that means.”

  So the ardent doctor turned out to an old-fashioned proper lover.

  It was really nice to get back to the grooves of regular normal life once more, after the strain of the past few days. I should not care to try to keep up such a pace indefinitely. After a really profitable day, I knocked out about four o’clock and went home. Mrs. Rhodes was on my floor straightening up the front room when I came in. On her way downstairs, she stopped at my door for a few moments. She says she is going to keep the front room for her son, whenever he is home. He spends most of his time at the chapter house of his fraternity, where he has quarters, but now and then he spends a night at home. He has been using a second-floor room up to this time.

  Of course, I was interested in Dr. Corey’s wooing, and I was hoping she would say something about it, though naturally I did not like to ask questions. Sure enough, she did bring up the subject herself, and asked me what I thought of it. Dr. Corey, in good old-fashioned style, made his declaration to the mother. It sounds curiously formal in these days, does it not, when most girls get married first and announce it afterward even to their own parents? The doctor is a straightforward chap, it seems. He gave her a brief account of himself, his age, the facts about his family and his fortune. His two children are of age, and if he should marry again, he has planned to deed a share of his property to each of them at once, and a similar share to the new wife. He made the most explicit statements as to his resources, which are reasonably large, and he gave references to two or three of the largest banks and business houses in North Carolina. He is considerably over fifty, it seems. She asked me what I thought of it all. I told her that of course it was not for me to have an opinion, that I had been most favorably impressed by the doctor himself, that of course the discrepancy in age seemed very great, in spite of the vigor and apparently fine health of the suitor, but after all, the one person to be pleased seemed to me to b
e Caroline. Further than this I would not go.

  It is a fact that I think most mothers do not object to their daughters marrying men much older, and that I think this is especially true of the mothers of girls who are very willful or unusually lively. I suppose to the mother, the older suitor does not look so old, after all, as he would to a younger person. If it were Genevieve, now, I should say, with her overserious, mature nature, that it would not be such a bad match. To say more—the good doctor might go further and fare worse! Before she left, Mrs. Rhodes said that Corey was coming back this way before the end of the week. About five o’clock an enormous box arrived from one of the big florist stores downtown—the doctor’s parting gift—one dozen American beauties!

  Tuesday, A.M.

  I was feeling “dopey” last night, so I stopped writing about eight o’clock. The house was so quiet by contrast. I suppose that I got lonesome, so I thought I should take a walk. I went around to Verney’s, and found him in. We talked awhile, and then we thought we might run over to You Street and take in a movie. We cut through Twelfth Street and went into the Lincoln Theater. This is one of the best houses in the city. Washington has two movie houses, the Lincoln and the Republic, which surpass any of those in Harlem for beauty and the quiet elegance of their appointments. They were built by white firms on the lines of the best downtown theaters of modern construction. Each is about as large as the Renaissance in New York, but far more perfectly appointed and more tastefully decorated.

  As the house seemed to be crowded, we took box seats, and found ourselves seated just behind a very gay crowd of young women, two or three of whom I recognized as members of one of the clubs whose affairs I have attended. They were very well dressed, and very lively. This is a sample of the conversation we overheard during a lull in the music.

  “Yes, I was terribly disappointed. You know I have been looking for a nice piece to go in that old corner in the library, and I just found it—the most wonderful bargain you ever saw. It was originally priced at $1,275, and marked down to only $800—a ridiculously low figure. But what do you think! When I went back to get it, it was gone! I almost cried.”