Living in Daddy's Closet

Chapter 1

Sometimes, I wonder if there are people who do try to be happy. Both my parents made decisions in their lives, which led to so much unhappiness, but I suppose it was all unintentional. These decisions were made to cover up real feelings, secret desires, and to maintain the facades the society wants to give us.

My father’s name was Harlan Johnson. He came from a very wealthy black family; I never knew where this money came from. My father would have us believe we were part of some black aristocracy. However, that wasn’t the case. Our family was matriarchal and run by two women: Lillian Lee Forrester and Rondaline Johnson, whom everybody called Ronnie. Lillian Lee was the more powerful of the two; she’s the one who held all the purse strings. Rondaline was the one who kept everything in order.

By 1953, they had both retired from a very successful business, which seemed to be a family secret. Whatever this business was, it left both of them with an enormous amount of money and political clout.

On June 24th, 1953, Lillian Lee walked into the Stockton Central Bank and asked to speak to the director. Miss Habershatt, the head teller, evaded the request with small talk. She never could understand how this high yellow heifer had gotten so rich. Of course, she never dared to say it to Miss Lillian.

“Well, how are you today Miss Lillian?”

“Quite fine, and you, Miss Habershatt?”

“As right as rain. Now, isn’t there something that I can help you with?”

“I think I ask you to see the director.”

“Well, you have to understand, Miss Lillian, he is quite a busy man.”

“But I believe if you ask him, he will find time for me.”

She gave a half-baked smile to Miss Lillian, pulled away from her cashier’s desk reluctantly, and went into the director’s office. Miss Lillian was as cool as a cucumber. She watched Miss Habershatt jabbering with the director and imagined what she was saying. “I told her you’re a very busy man; she insists on seeing you.”

The director, Allen Dressler, shook his head in agreement to see Miss Lillian. As he walked out the door, Miss Lillian heard him say, “It really is no problem. I’m always ready and willing to see my favorite client. Miss Lillian, how can I help you today? Do you want to open another account?”

“Oh no, God knows I have enough accounts.”

“You could say that.”

“Could we discuss it in your office?”

“Of course we can. Right, this way. Miss Habershatt, please hold all my calls.”

Miss Habershatt shook her head in disgust as they entered his office.

“So what can I do for you today, Miss Lillian?”

“This summer, my nephew, Harlan Johnson, will be graduating from Stockton High School.”

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you! So, I would like to offer him something special; entry into the University of the Pacific.”

“Lillian!” Allen droned, “You know that I would do anything in the world that I could for you, but traditionally U. O. P. is a white college.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to break tradition.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Yes, you can, Allen, and you will. You owe me a lot. You do remember how you got this position at the bank, who arranged all your contacts, and how?”

“Why Lillian, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were blackmailing me.”

“Then, Allen, it’s a good thing you know me better.”

“How do you expect me to get a colored kid into the University of Pacific? Even if I do recommend him, they won’t accept him. He’d have to be more like…”

“Like what?”

“Well, like you.”

“I’ll forget that you said that, and better yet, I’ll forget that I heard it. You are an alumnus. My nephew is extremely talented, borders on genius, and I believe he’s graduating first in his class from Stockton High. He’s won several local art contests already and one in San Francisco. With those credentials, I am sure they will let him into the University in spite of his negritude. But he will not get in if he is not recommended by an alumnus, and that is going to be you. I think your son is going to the university this year, is he not?”

“Yes, he is Miss Lillian.”

“And I’m sure he will be joining your old fraternity, will he not?

“Yes, he will.”

“And so will my nephew.”

“Oh, Miss Lillian, you can’t ask me that.”

“Allen, I can ask you anything, and you know that. All I want is for my nephew to have the same life as everybody else, and you’re going to help me get that.”

Miss Lillian was determined in her quest. She had a cold steel look in her eye when she spoke. He whimpered at the regard that she gave him. He knew that she would not back down.

“I’ll tell you what, Miss Lillian, I’ll arrange an event, let us say a party. Your nephew will be the guest of honor. It’ll be an occasion for us to demonstrate his artistic talents. That way, the other alumnus can get to know him, and I will feel more comfortable recommending him. Is that acceptable, Miss Lillian?”

She thought about it for a while. Since Allen and she had been friends for such a long time, there should have been no hesitation recommending her nephew to the University of the Pacific. Still, a partial victory was better than none. Therefore she shook her head yes.

“It’s always been a pleasure doing business with you, Allen. You have always understood me.”

“Let us say that we have always understood each other.”

“Yes, we have, haven’t we?”

Lillian left under the hot Stockton sun. She headed back to 912 East Lafayette; she had bought a comfortable home there. It sat on two and a half acres of land, which were surrounded by hedges. Her garden was filled with fruit trees of all types: plum, pear, pomegranate, apricot, figs, and in the very back of her garden were grapevines of two sorts, white grapes and black. It was indeed Lillian’s little paradise.

As she walked through the door, she could hear Harlan playing “Guys and Dolls” on the phonograph. Harlan loved musical comedy and would often listen to music while he was studying. Of course, in the fifties, this didn’t mean much; the most popular music at the time was from musical theater.

Her house was neat and comfortable. The style of furniture was somewhat modern, although she did have some pieces given to her by her grandmother. They had been meticulously renovated. These three pieces were rather baroque looking chairs and a matching loveseat. All three were upholstered in red velvet, a crimson red; over this set, hung a painting that Harlan had painted. It was of too shadowy dancers, a man and woman against the red background. It matched the furniture well, and Harlan had won first prize for the painting in a local competition. Therefore Lillian was quite proud of it.

The living room was quite large, and away from the antique pieces, which nobody ever sat on, was more modern furniture. The sofa was against the wall as you entered the living room; in front of it was a coffee table, and to the right was an easy-chair. There was a large archway, which led to the dining room and off the dining room, of course, the kitchen. The bedrooms were off the hall. Harlan’s room was at the far end of the hall and rather secluded, while Miss Lillian’s room almost faced the archway to the living room entrance. It was just slightly right, so you could barely see the door when you sat in the living room. In the hallway sitting in the center of the large archway, was Miss Lillian’s famous knickknack stand. She collected knickknacks from all over the world.

“Harlan, I’m home.”

“Aunt Lillian, where have you been?”

“I just had to run to the bank.”

She pulled off her gloves and unpinned her hat. “What are you doing now?”

“Just studying some French.”

“Harlan, school is out, honey. Why don’t you give yourself a break? You really must learn to relax.”

“But this is how I relax,” he said, laughing. “Someday, I’m going to be a great artist; I’ll live in Paris, so can’t you see I have to speak French.”

“Well, before you run off to Paris, we need to go downtown and buy you a new suit.”

“A new suit for what?”

“You never know when you’ll need a new suit. It’s always best to be prepared.”

“You’ve got something up your sleeve Aunt Lillian.”

“You know what, you’re right.”

After that statement, Aunt Lillian calmly smiled, then pranced into her bedroom, lay on her bed, opened up a book, and read. Harlan peaked around the corner of her bedroom door and said,

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“That, young man, is a surprise.”

Harlan muttered softly, “OK.” He knew his aunt was very good at keeping secrets; therefore, he went back to his room quietly to study French and listen to his records.

Chapter 2

The Shopping Trip

The next day, Lillian and Harlan went to Quinn’s, the most fashionable store in Stockton. Before, they had always bought Harlan suits at Sears and Roebuck’s; the quality there was good; however, it wasn’t Quinn’s. Harlan did love stylish clothes; he was like a child in a candy shop. For a long time, he’d been doting on a camel-colored cashmere sweater, and at that time, they only sold them at Quinn’s in Stockton.

“Aunt Lillian, look!”

“Harlan, we’re not here for that.”

Lillian looked out of the corner of her eye and saw the saleslady looking at Harlan suspiciously.

“Harlan, come over here, honey. We’ll look at the sweaters later. What do you think of this suit?”

“Aunt Lillian, the suit cost almost $200.”

“Yes, but I want you to try it on. Excuse me, ma’am, is there a place where he can try this on?”

The saleslady hesitantly approached them. She was looking at Lillian holding the suit up in front of Harlan and really could not figure anything out. In her mind, Lillian was white; she couldn’t understand why this old white woman would be buying a suit for this little colored boy.

“Can I help you, ma’am,” the saleswoman asked with reticence.

“Yes, I’d like to know where my nephew can try on this suit.”

“Oh, he’s your nephew?”

“Yes, he is. Is there a problem?”

“Well, no ma’am, except, well, I have instructions not to let colored people try on the clothes.”

“I beg your pardon? I thought this was Stockton California, not Montgomery Alabama.”

“I am sorry, ma’am. But I only work here.”

“Is Justin Quinn here? He is still the owner, isn’t he?”

“Yes, ma’am. But I believe he’s in his office right now, and I think he’s busy.”

“You tell him that Lillian Lee Forrester is here. I’m sure he’ll see me.”

Harlan felt extremely uncomfortable with the situation. He never did like to make any trouble. He knew that his aunt had been riled. Once she had been riled, it was best to stay out of her way. This is not the first time that Harlan had encountered this type of situation. His mother was very fair-skinned too, and people often commented when he was a child as they would walk down a street.

The saleslady hurried upstairs to the office; she went into Mr. Quinn’s office slightly upset, but she knew that she was right. There were Venetian blinds that covered the windows of his office. Miss Lillian looked up at the windows and saw him peeking out at her. Recognizing Miss Lillian, he came out immediately.

“Miss Lillian, what can we do for you today?”

“Well, I’ve come to buy a new suit for my nephew as there is to be a glorious occasion in our family.”

Harlan knew that there was to be a surprise, but what was she speaking of “glorious occasion.”

“You see, I know for a fact that my son… I mean, my nephew is to be accepted into the University of the Pacific. We’re having a reception in honor of that; therefore, he will need a new suit of clothes appropriate for the occasion. And I thought I would buy it here, but perhaps I am mistaken.”

“Well, Miss Lillian, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“I was told by your saleslady that colored people were not allowed to try on the clothes here.”

“There must be some mistake; we have no such policy here.”

“But sir, you said ...”

“I said that we serve people of quality. And Miss Lillian and her nephew are certainly among those people.”

Miss Lillian didn’t know who was telling the truth, but she had a very strong suspicion that it was the saleslady. If they had been any other black family, they probably wouldn’t have been served. That’s the reason why Miss Lillian abruptly stopped all arguments.

“Do you know what, Justin? I have decided that I’m not up to shopping today. I will come back when all of us are in a better humor.”

"Please don’t go, Miss Lillian! I’m sure you’ll find everything you need here.”

“I promise you, Justin, that I will come back on another day.”

Miss Lillian left the store frustrated, angered, and humiliated. Harlan tried to calm her down.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “It’s not the first time that things like that have happened. And I don’t think it’ll be the last.”

“You know what, Harlan? We’re taking a train to San Francisco.”

“What for?”

“I’m going to buy you a suit at I. Magnin’s.”

“I Magnin’s, that’s the most expensive store in San Francisco, Aunt Lillian!”

“Yes, it is. And I’ve decided that’s where we’re going to buy your suit. Come on, let’s go to the train station.

Lillian always loved to take trips to San Francisco. There was a certain excitement about riding the train and then taking the cable car or a taxi to Union Square. There, you could sit in cafes, go to the theater or the cinema. San Francisco was far from any provincial lifestyle or antiquated thinking, and that’s what Lillian loved. In San Francisco, even in 1953, most people didn’t care what you did or with whom you did it. San Franciscans always seemed to know how to mind their own business. Lillian also loved Chinese food, and of course, San Francisco is the ideal place to get that. So she took Harlan to her favorite restaurant, and that was the Golden Dragon. It was the most stylish of Chinese restaurants at that time, even though it may have been a little kitsch. Lillian loved their fried prawns with hot mustard and spicy ketchup: chicken chow-mein and chop suey with fried noodles. Harlan had only been to San Francisco once or twice before. That was when he was a small child and had vague memories of a wondrous place that seemed like a fairyland. It was about 3:00, and Lillian realized that they had better hurry since the shops closed at about 6:00 in those days.

They stepped through the door of I. Magnin’s and landed in with a small crowd of people shopping. Harlan, once again, was attracted to the cashmere sweaters. His aunt commented that he couldn’t keep away from those things. Harlan remarked on how beautiful they were, far more beautiful than those in Stockton, at Quinn’s.

“Harlan, if you don’t come away from those cashmere sweaters… Today, we are shopping for a suit.”

“Yes, Aunt Lillian.”

“Now, what do you think of this one?”

She held up a black suit with fine dark blue pinstripes. Harlan’s eyes lit up when he saw it. Then she saw a rusty brown suit, and she held it up.

“Now, the first one goes very well with your hair and your eyes, but this one suits your skin color better.”

Harlan’s feelings seemed hurt when his aunt made that comment. Lillian immediately picked up on that.

“Harlan Johnson, what is the matter with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes, something is; I can see it, and I know what it is. It is because I said this brown suit would go better with your skin color, isn’t it? Well, young man, I was just stating an aesthetic fact, and there’s nothing wrong with a suit going with your skin color. Now, let’s go try them on.”

“Do you think they will let me try them on here?”

“Don’t be foolish. Of course, they will.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Cause we’re not in Stockton, California anymore, nor in Montgomery, Alabama. Harlan, let me explain something to you. When people are not important, they give importance to little things, little things, such as skin color, who your parents are or where you came from, and even where you’ve gone to school. But when people are truly magnanimous, authentically humane, and human, when they are great people, then they give no importance to these little things. Do you understand that?”

Harlan shook his head, yes, but Lillian sensed that his feelings still were hurt, and of course, this is what happens in 16-year-olds. Therefore she smiled at Harlan and said: “Come on, let’s go try them on.”

“OK.”

They approached the saleslady, who didn’t seem to see anything other than customers.

“How can I help you today?”

“My nephew is going to try these suits on.”

“The changing rooms are right over there, ma’am. Would you like me to find some shirts that match the suit and maybe some ties?”

“That would be nice if you would. Thank you very much.”

First, Harlan tried on the black suit, and the saleswoman brought him a very pale blue shirt with a dark blue tie. The saleswoman said that it looked exquisite on him, and of course, Aunt Lillian agreed. Then she stated that she would still like to see the brown one. Both the saleswoman and she indicated that it looked a little more casual, and with the pinch back, it gave him a sort of Hollywood look. After all the jabbering about how both suits looked on him, Aunt Lillian turned to him and said: “which one do you prefer, Harlan.”

Harlan’s face was full of doubt; he didn’t know which one to pick.

“Why Harlan,” Aunt Lillian said, “sometimes you’re as fickle as a woman! What am I to do with you?” Then she turned to the sales lady and said, “We’ll take both.”

Harlan’s eyes popped open, then he cried, “both? Aunt Lillian, that’s over a thousand dollars!”

“And it will be money well spent; you need a suit for the reception. And you’ll need a suit for other occasions while you’re attending the University of Pacific.”

“That wasn’t a joke that you told a saleslady in Stockton?”

“Why Harlan Johnson, I’d think you would know me better by now. I never joke about such serious matters. You are going to the University of the Pacific.”

“But Aunt Lillian, that’s an all-white college. There is no way that they’ll let me in.”

“Whoever said that the University of Pacific was an all-white college?”

"No one has ever said it. It’s just that way.”

“If it hasn’t been said, then it’s not that way.”

The saleswoman smiled at the conversation and then said: “Shall I wrap these up then?”

Lillian replied with determination, “You most certainly shall.”

On the train ride back, Harlan sat opposite his aunt. They caught a late train, the 9:20 back to Stockton. Harlan laid his head against the window and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. He kept thinking of how brave his aunt was. She didn’t seem to be afraid of anybody black or white, and this is the way she had always been. Harlan wondered how she had gotten that way. He knew that she had been married before but knew nothing about her husband. She never spoke of him. She didn’t seem to want to. She must have been badly hurt when they separated or when he died. No one in the family would ever speak of Mr. Forrester. For a long time, Harlan assumed that he had died. But after a while, he realized that wasn’t the case. Maybe having been a woman alone for so long is what gave Lillian Forrester her courage.

They didn’t get home until almost midnight. They caught a taxi from the Stockton train station back to Lafayette Street. After such a long day, both of them ambled to the front door with all the packages in hand. It was a soft summer evening, not hot but too warm to be comfortable. Lillian took off her hat as she walked through the door. She clutched it in her hand with a small bag she had from I. Magnin’s. Harlan followed behind her.

“Just leave the packages on the couch. I’ll unwrap everything tomorrow.”

“All right, Aunt Lillian,” Harlan said with fatigue in his voice. “Aunt Lillian, thank you for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Harlan. It was my pleasure.”

Chapter 3

The reception

The day of the reception had finally come. It was held in Lillian’s flower garden, which was on the right side of the house. A table had been set out and covered with a white linen cloth; it was a buffet service. Lillian loved Mexican food, so she had had the whole thing catered by Arroyo’s, the town’s most popular Mexican restaurant. She had thought of serving French food but didn’t want to be pretentious. Garden parties were quite popular in Stockton at the time.

Indeed, the cream of Stockton showed up for the occasion. Lillian hadn’t expected so many people to show up, although she had invited everyone who was prominent in the community. The first to approach her were the Dresslers. Allen Dressler had married Grace Grunstein, who had a strong disliking for Aunt Lillian. Harlan had always been told that it was because Lillian had been so beautiful in her youth. And it was plain to see that Grace had never been beautiful. A lot of people asked the question why Allen had married her. Apparently, Allen had been quite a good-looking young man, much like his son Douglas.

“Well, if it isn’t the Dressler family,” Aunt Lillian said with a smile, “Grace, It’s been ages since I’ve seen you, and this could not be Douglas! My, I haven’t seen you since you were a little boy. You are the spitting image of your father at that age.”

When Aunt Lillian said that, Allen Dressler’s eyes lit up like blue sapphires, for he was incredibly proud of his son. In the back of his mind, he felt that he hadn’t contributed anything finer to this world.

“And Grace, you haven’t changed,” Aunt Lillian said with a wee bit of sarcasm in her voice.

Grace responded with the same, “and neither have you, Lillian Forrester.”

“Aren’t we the lucky ones to have remained as beautiful and as young as we’ve always been?”

It was quite obvious that Lillian was using the royal “we” at this time. Grace knew she had never been associated with beauty, so she gave the remark a smile, “yes.”

“Harlan,” Lillian called out, “come here. I want you to meet someone.”

Harlan ran over in his new black suit, as proud as a peacock. It had taken almost two hours for him and Lillian to decide on which side he should part his hair.

“Yes, Aunt Lillian,” he responded.

“Harlan, this is the Dressler family. You know Mr. Dressler from when I’ve taken you to the bank. This is his wife Grace, and this, his son Douglas.”

Both Harlan’s and Douglas’ eyes met. Harlan had had this feeling before but never really wanted to admit it. He stayed calm as he had stayed a million times before when he had met a boy that he liked. Douglas, too, immediately felt something for Harlan.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” said Harlan while shaking Mr. Dressler’s hand.

“I hear you’re interested in going to the University of Pacific,” Mr. Dressler blurted out.

“If they’ll let me in,” responded Harlan.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Harlan shrugged his shoulders and smiled politely.

“That’s the fine thing about this country, boy; everybody gets a fair chance. And I am sure that you will have yours.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dressler, for saying that,” Harlan responded.

Lillian got a gleam in her eye, “Why don’t you two boys go off and get better acquainted.”

“Come on, Douglas,” Harlan said with enthusiasm, I’ll show you the rest of the gardens and the house.”

“Gardens? OK,” said Douglas.

And off they went as if they had been friends for years.

Later that afternoon, everybody was invited to the house. First, Lillian did a guided tour of every room, pointing out the paintings that had been hung on the walls. The reason was that all of them had been done by Harlan. Harlan did have an eye for art. He could copy the great masters, do portraits, and had even been experimenting with abstract expressionism. A few of his paintings were amateurish; however, these were Harlan’s first paintings. By now, he could paint like a seasoned professional. In the living room, Lillian had set up folding chairs facing the piano. For his 15th birthday, she had bought him a Steinway baby grand. After having bought it, Harlan proclaimed that he could teach himself how to play the piano, and he did.

“Please everyone, take a seat,” Lillian exclaimed, and now, hopefully, to the delight of everyone, my nephew Harlan Johnson is going to play the piano for us. Now, I have to tell you that Harlan has taught himself how to play the piano. He has never had a lesson, that’s why I am so proud of him. One day soon after I bought him a piano for his 15th birthday, he picked up some theory books and some sheet music and started playing, much to my surprise and to my delight. I hope that you will enjoy it as much as I have.”

Grace Dressler muttered in a whispering voice, “I assume this is going to be terrible.”

Lillian heard it immediately and, of course, brought it to everyone’s attention. “Did you say something, Grace?”

“No, Miss Lillian, it’s just that it’s terribly hot in here. But I can live with the heat.”

“I’m sure you can. Harlan, why don’t you start with that lovely piece by Chopin? You know the one I’m talking about?”

“Polonaise in An Opus 40 No. 1”

“That’s the one; you know how I love that.”

Since Harlan had taught himself, everyone expected it to be rather amateurish. But as Harlan began to play, people’s expectations were daunted. For once, Harlan had started, heads turned; husbands and wives looked at each other in amazement. Friends nodded in approval, and Douglas was fascinated by this extraordinary creature called Harlan Johnson. All his life, his parents had taught him not to be a racist. However, when they spoke of black people, it was always in the tone of those poor people, downtrodden, plight-ridden, colored people. He had always been taught to feel and have pity for them. But how could you have pity for someone as magnificent as Harlan Johnson? Many often said that Harlan Johnson was no average colored man. But the truth was Harlan Johnson was no average man. Few had his talent, and his drive was enormous. And that is why Douglas Dressler fell in love with him at that moment.

Lillian made Harlan play five more pieces: the Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven, the Gymnopedie No. 1 by Erik Satie, a few other pieces of Chopin’s, and to finish, the Prelude in C sharp minor by Rachmaninov. The audience was genuinely impressed with Harlan’s performance already, but his interpretation of the Prelude was magnificent by any standard.

By the end of the evening, Lillian was assured that Harlan would get into the university. There was nothing but compliments flowing from everyone’s lips, everyone except Grace Dressler, who had gotten drunk in the meantime and decided to mix no words. As guests were leaving, Grace went up to thank Lillian for the evening. Her words were slurred but clear enough for everybody to hear.

“Thank you for a lovely afternoon and evening. You are a most gracious host in spite of your shady past. And I did enjoy watching your little-trained monkey jump through his hoops.”

After this statement, Allen tried to stop his wife, “Grace, how could you say such a thing?”

“Because it’s true! You’d get a lot of work in the circus; you would make a fortune there too, and it would be cleaner than what you did!”

“Lillian, I am extremely sorry about this. You must forgive Grace. She’s had a little too much to drink.”

“There’s no problem, Allen. But you better take Grace home. I think she’s fatigued after the long day.” Lillian said this with the graciousness of a queen, and everyone was astonished by her calm and elegant attitude.

“Douglas approached Lillian with shame in his eyes. I hope you will forgive us for what’s happened.”

There were shouts in the background from Grace for Douglas to get away from that “harlot.” However, Lillian looked Douglas straight in the eyes with the softness of a genuinely loving mother. She said, “Angel, there is nothing that I have to forgive you for. Sometimes these things happen. Now, you go take care of your mother. She needs you.”

After all the guests had left, Harlan quietly crept back into his room and sat on the edge of his bed. Not understanding what happened at the reception, he was trying to figure out if Grace Dressler simply hated him because he was colored or was there some other reason. And she indeed seemed to hate his aunt Lillian more than anything else, and he couldn’t understand why. Had Aunt Lillian done something to her, or was Grace just a racist who hated anyone who wasn’t completely white? But then how could a racist have raised such a wonderful son because Douglas was so nice, so handsome. Harlan remembered the religious books that his mother and his aunt had bought him when he was a little boy. The pictures of the angels looked much like Douglas. Douglas, for Harlan, seemed not to have a bone of hatred in his body. They had spent hours that day just talking to each other in the garden. Douglas seemed interested in why Harlan wanted to go to U.O.P., and Harlan was interested in Douglas’ dreams. Douglas wanted to be a lyricist like Alan Jay Lerner. He had seen Brigadoon earlier that year in San Francisco. He loved the song “At My Mother’s Wedding Day;” he thought it was brilliant. Harlan confessed to him that he wanted to write music for musical comedies. They both laughed about that and said maybe they’d be the next Rodgers and Hammerstein.

The Dressler’s drove home somewhat in silence, except for the humming of their new Buick Roadmaster's engine. No one said anything for the first 10 minutes of the drive. Then Douglas broke the silence.

“What did you do that for, mother?” Douglas asked.

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“You called Harlan a monkey. I want him to be my friend, mother!”

Grace didn’t know how to respond to that. She did have a particular animosity for Lillian but didn’t mean Harlan any harm. She saw a look of miscomprehension and distrust on Douglas’ face. As she was looking in the rearview mirror, she saw her son rear back on the seat of the car in disgust. She knew the disgust was for her. A single tear rolled down her face, and she leaned her head against the window of the car.