Against the Current: Coming out in the 40'S

By Beverly Hickok

Against the Current, set in the 1940s, is the
story of how a young woman, Jan, comes to
acknowledge and accept her lesbianism and
find a place for herself in the world. Jan first
begins to explore gay life while a student at the
University of California at Berkeley. Jan had
expected to earn a teaching credential after
graduation, but once the war broke out decided
to leave school to become a riveter for the war
effort, then to join the Navy. After the war she
returns to the university on the G.I. Bill,
entering library school. She steadfastly holds on
to her dream of one day finding a woman with
whom to settle down and share her life.
There are very few books available which
realistically describe lesbian life in the early
40s, long before Stonewall. Descriptive and
passionate, Against the Current vividly evokes
the sights, sounds and flavors of the era. This
book is not to be missed!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 18, 2004
• ISBN: 9781453534434

Book preview

Copyright © 2003 by Beverly Hickok.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Xlibris Corporation

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Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

Acknowledgments:

I wish to acknowledge the creative and persistent efforts of my friend Laura Tow in helping to get this book published. She provided encouragement when I was discouraged and served as my de facto agent, contacting publishers by phone and by mail and helping me with a myriad of decisions.

Also I want to thank Marcy Alancraig, the instructor of a creative writing class where I first began to work on the book many years ago. Thanks, too, to Linnea Due, who read and critiqued an early draft. In addition I am so grateful to my mother who saved all the letters I wrote her while serving in the Navy in Washington, D.C. during 1944-1946.

And finally my everlasting appreciation to my current partner Doreen Brand for her unwavering in-house support.

ONE

I think you should know that I’m sexually attracted to you. Jan leaned over the desk of Miss Grant, her English professor. Just as their eyes met, Jan woke from her dream.

With her eyes still shut, Jan heard the words again. How could she have said such a horrible thing to her professor?

Jan sat up slowly, eased herself out of bed, put on her slippers and robe, picked up her cigarettes and lighter, and went as quietly as she could into the bathroom. She didn’t want to wake up her roommate Ellen, who slept next to her on the pull-down bed, nor her other roommate Milly, who slept on the couch.

She closed the bathroom door, lit a cigarette, and leaned against the sill of the open window. The apartment was on the third floor, so she could see not only the street light on the corner of College Avenue and Durant, but even farther to a dark area in the distance, which was the Berkeley campus.

She shuddered and drew her robe closer. Why had the dream upset her so much? She’d had lots of crazy dreams, but they didn’t necessarily mean anything. This one, however, seemed different and she knew it wouldn’t fade away as the others had. The words sexually attracted repeated themselves in her head. The dream had provided an opening, letting her see a part of herself she’d never acknowledged. Her knees felt weak, so she sat down on the toilet, hugging her arms to her chest. She had been looking forward to June, to being able to say she was a graduate of the University of California at Berkeley, class of 1941. And she’d planned on staying for another year to get her teacher’s credential.

Why she did feel the dream might change her plans? Why was she taking it so seriously? She’d had crushes on women teachers and older girls ever since eighth grade, but that didn’t mean she would turn into a queer. It merely added excitement to her life.She’d been aware of her feeling for Miss Grant, but had accepted it as her usual state.

By the time the alarm went off in the other room, she had smoked two cigarettes. She heard Ellen getting out of bed. Ellen was always up first to be on time for her part-time job at a doughnut shop on Telegraph Avenue two blocks away.

Jan opened the bathroom door.

Ellen mumbled, Hey. How come you’re up already?

Jan said, I couldn’t sleep. I’m probably getting the curse early this month.

Too bad.

Jan climbed back into bed and turned on her side, knees pulled almost to her chest. When Ellen finished in the bathroom and left, Milly, who had an eight o’clock class, got up next. She and Jan never had much to say to each other, especially in the morning, so Jan pretended to be asleep.

After Milly left, Jan finally had the apartment to herself. She could never get used to being crowded into a studio apartment with two other girls. Perhaps moving in had been a mistake, but she still liked Ellen better than any of her former sorority sisters. Jan had been living with her parents in the Berkeley hills until her father was transferred to Portland for a year. Her parents had expected she would move into the sorority, but after three years, she was bored with its required social life. Jan didn’t fit in somehow, and she also wanted to save her parents’ money. She had met Ellen at the University YWCA, and when Ellen told her she was looking for another roommate, Jan had decided to move in with her.

Some of their friends thought she and Ellen looked enough alike to be sisters. They were both tall and slim, with light brown hair, blue eyes, and even features. Ellen was very focused on her goal of being admitted to the graduate Social Services department, and usually studied more than Jan and Milly.

Jan looked around the cluttered apartment and visualized her room at home, with a view of San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge from her desk in front of the window, plus her own bathroom, and all that space to herself. An only child, her mother had always spoiled her by doing all the cooking, cleaning, and laundry. This year she had been forced to do more things for herself.

She fixed herself some cereal with a sliced banana on top, made a piece of toast, and sat at the cracked green table in the kitchen drinking coffee Ellen had made. It was while she was drinking her second cup that she thought of a novel she had seen reviewed in the San Francisco Chronicle several days before. It had been about the American edition of an English novel called The Well of Loneliness. The main character was a homosexual woman, and there had been an obscenity trial in England about it. As she recalled, the author’s name had been Hall. It occurred to Jan that perhaps reading that review had triggered her dream about Miss Grant.

She had to get ready for her nine o’clock class, so she went into the main room and pulled the Murphy bed upright, then swung it into its place in front of the walk-in closet. She turned sideways to slip into the closet to select what she would wear. All of their clothes were squashed closely together, making it hard to pull anything out. She decided on her pleated Navy skirt and a short-sleeved white blouse, the only one ironed. Then she opened her dresser drawer and pulled out her slip, girdle, panties, bra and Navy sweater. As she dressed, she swore she would never live in such cramped quarters again. Three roommates in such a tiny space was impossible. She sat on the couch to put on her white bobby socks and brown-and-white saddle shoes.

Then she stood before the mirror, ready to comb out her hair. Her face looked paler than usual, and there were dark circles under her eyes. It was inconceivable that she could turn out to be a queer. But if she was, could anyone tell by looking at her? She took the curlers out of her hair and brushed it, hating the bushy feeling from her last permanent. She powdered her nose lightly and then dabbed on a little lipstick. She looked like most of the other girls on campus; there was nothing to make her stand out. Not yet, at least.

She picked up her binder and books and left the apartment, running down the stairs rather than taking the elevator. She had crammed the night before for an exam in her Education class and hoped she could regurgitate the proper answers. The course was required of all prospective teachers, but somehow failed to hold her interest.

Jan stopped dead on the sidewalk. If she did turn out to be a queer, how could she be a teacher? If people could tell by looking at her, no one would hire her. She would be taboo. And even if she could hide it and was able to get a job, she’d still risk being fired if she was eventually found out.

She started walking again with her usual fast, long-legged stride. Maybe she would have to change her major or consider another career. But what? She’d never had a strong interest in any profession, not even teaching. Becoming a teacher had been her parents’ idea, with its bonus of long vacations and a fairly good salary for a woman. After all, there weren’t too many suitable options. She could never be a nurse; the thought of bed pans appalled her. Her father had discouraged social work; he didn’t want her to come in contact with undesirable, poor, or unhappy people. You didn’t need a college education to be a secretary, but she didn’t want to spend her days typing letters dictated by some man. So what remained? Nothing but teaching. Or marriage, as her father often pointed out.

She crossed Bancroft Avenue and hurried across campus to her class in Wheeler Hall. She managed to concentrate enough on the exam to dredge up appropriate answers. After that she had her History class and tried to take careful notes, since History was her major.

At noon, she felt like eating a hamburger, so she went to her favorite place on Telegraph Avenue. After lunch, she decided to go to the Sather Gate Bookshop to see if she could find a copy of the Hall book. It wouldn’t hurt to glance at it. Too embarrassed to ask for help, it took her awhile to locate it. She maneuvered herself into a corner and held it down flat on the table so that the cover couldn’t be seen. The author’s first name was Radclyffe, and from looking at the picture on the book jacket, Jan thought Radclyffe Hall was a man. The author had short hair combed straight back behind her ears, a severe expression on her face, and wore a man’s jacket, shirt, and tie. Jan stared at the author’s face for a moment, trying to relate to her. Could she possibly turn into someone who looked like that?

She read steadily, without looking up; as she was finishing the second chapter, she became aware that one of the salesmen was arranging books on the table in front of her. She closed the novel reluctantly and returned it to its place on the shelf, giving it a small pat. She didn’t dare buy it, even though she had enough money in her purse. How could she take it to the counter to pay for it? Where could she hide it in her small apartment? She left, knowing she would be back as soon as she could to find out what happened to the protagonist Stephen Gordon. Jan knew she wasn’t anything like poor Stephen, but still felt an affinity with her.

At two o’clock, she slid into her usual seat in Miss Grant’s English class. She kept her eyes down, afraid that Miss Grant would somehow be able to know about her dream if their eyes met. But when the class started, Jan had to appear attentive. Miss Grant was a tall, big-boned woman with dark eyes and hair pulled back in a bun; strong, confident and fluent, all things Jan wasn’t. For the first time consciously, she looked at Miss Grant’s body, not just her face, letting herself imagine what Miss Grant might look like without her clothes and with her long hair hanging loose. She looked at Miss Grant’s mouth and wondered if her lips would be soft or firm. If she were to kiss Miss Grant, would Miss Grant kiss her back? When Miss Grant turned to the blackboard, Jan found herself imagining her firm breasts and rounded hips. She tried to concentrate on the lecture, but found it difficult and could feel her face flushing.

Rather than going to the library after class as she usually did, she felt tired and restless, so she decided to go to an ice cream parlor near Sather Gate, and ordered a small chocolate cone. She walked back to the library slowly, licking the ice cream carefully in a circle, so that it retained its shape down to the rim of the cone, savoring it on her tongue. She sat down on a grassy slope near Wheeler Hall to finish the last bites and plan the rest of the day.

It was Friday, and she had a date with Bob to go dancing that evening at the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco. Jan hadn’t once thought of him since her dream. She had been concentrating on her feelings and future and had never considered how it might affect her relationship with him. As far as Jan was concerned, it wasn’t really much of a relationship. She liked being able to tell the girls and her parents about her dates with him, and she enjoyed going dancing with him, but he didn’t excite her.

Ellen had talked her into going to a YWCA-YMCA dance, and she had met Bob there. By the end of the evening, Bob had asked her for a date for the next weekend, and they had gone out almost every weekend since. Bob was likable, although inclined to be loud. He was a Senior also, majoring in construction engineering. She didn’t have to worry about what to talk about with him, as she had on her other infrequent dates, since he liked to carry the conversation. He was good looking in a rough way, big and sturdy, with untidy blond hair that often fell across his forehead. A smooth dancer, he loved going to the hotels in San Francisco to dance to the big bands. He had made reservations several weeks before to hear the Harry James band with a girl singer named Margaret Whiting. He could only afford to take her out dancing about once a month. On other dates, they usually went to the movies and had an ice cream sundae afterwards. Neither of them drank, so Bob had never taken her to a bar.

Jan had been looking forward to the night out in the City, although she disliked getting dressed up in a formal. She decided on her blue one rather than the pink, since Bob had said he liked it best. She’d have to check when she got home to make sure it wasn’t wrinkled, even though they were both kept in a big plastic bag with her fur coat. Her parents had given her the squirrel coat when she entered Cal and joined the sorority.

She ran her hand through her unruly hair and realized it was overdue to get done. There was still enough time before the shop closed. Bob deserved a good-looking date. And she told herself to try to concentrate on him tonight and not brood about her dream.

That night, after dinner with the girls, she dressed carefully in the bathroom. She had never been able to walk around half-dressed or even naked the way they did. She put on her best silk stockings and the gold-colored high-heeled evening sandals that matched her evening purse. She hated wearing high heels, but you couldn’t wear a formal without them. Her mother had made the taffeta dress, which had a jewel neck and full skirt designed to move nicely when they twirled. She was self-conscious that the fabric was so tight across her chest, but her mother had insisted on it, saying she should be proud of her breasts. Jan decided on the pearl necklace and small earrings her mother had given her. Last, she powdered her nose, put on her lipstick, and brushed her eyelashes up with water on her finger. Her mother always reminded her to do that, to show them off.

When Bob arrived, Jan was glad that she had gone to so much trouble. Bob couldn’t afford a tuxedo, but he wore his best dark suit, his shoes were polished, and his blond hair still wet. He had even brought a corsage. Jan wasn’t happy to see it, since she hated sticking pins into the material of her dress.

Bob said, You sure look pretty, Jan. Here, I brought this corsage. He handed her the box awkwardly.

Jan tried to look pleased. She opened the box, and was surprised to see a large, white orchid. Oh, Bob, you shouldn’t have. It’s lovely. It’ll look so elegant on my dress. I’m all ready.

Milly was already out with her fiancee, but Ellen came out of the kitchen where she had been studying. Hi, Bob. You’ve really got a good-looking date tonight. You look great, Jan. Have a good time, both of you.

Bob helped her into her fur coat. Jan kept the orchid in its box to protect it until they got to the hotel.

She managed to forget her dream while dancing to the rich music of the big band. When Margaret Whiting came to the mike to sing, Jan urged Bob to dance closer to the bandstand. Margaret sang Day In, Day Out, Guilty of Loving You, and I’m Gonna Love You Like Nobody’s Loved You. Riveted to her face, Jan felt as if Margaret was singing directly to her. She visualized a scene where they were alone in a mountain cabin, sitting in front of a fireplace, with Margaret leaning towards her, singing just to her. Bob kept trying to pull her away from the bandstand. He loved to twirl in the center of the floor, but Jan wanted to dance in front of Margaret and watch her, be as close to her as she could.

Going home in the car, Jan tried to sing some of the songs, although her voice was poor. When Bob parked outside the apartment house, she turned to him with real enthusiasm and said, I had a wonderful time tonight, Bob. I hope you did, too.

Bob grinned. So did I. Next month the Tommy Dorsey band is coming to the Fairmont Hotel. He has a new, young singer named Frank Sinatra, who I’ve heard is really something special. Let’s plan on it, okay?

Sure, I’d love to. Jan was thinking that she much preferred girl singers, but didn’t say it.

Bob leaned over clumsily and kissed her. Jan tried to respond, knowing she should as thanks for all the money he had spent on her. But did he have to be so sloppy about it, smearing her lipstick all over her mouth? She tried to pretend he was Margaret Whiting, but his whiskers scratched her, and she couldn’t forget it was only Bob.

TWO

Several days later, Jan went for lunch, as she often did on warm days, to the YWCA cottage across the street from the campus. She took her food out to the patio and sat at the picnic table. She was reading her Education class assignment when Nancy, an old friend, came out and sat beside her.

Hi. Okay if I join you? Nancy asked. Jan had known her in high school, but they’d become better acquainted during the past year. Nancy was a stocky, confident girl who planned on being a social worker. She was in several of Ellen’s classes.

Jan smiled at her. Sure. What’s new?

Not much. I had an exam this morning, and I’m afraid I flunked it. She made a face. Sometimes I think I’m in the wrong major. She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed as she talked. I’m going to stick around here this afternoon to hear a speaker at two o’clock. She’s a Ph.D. student in Psychology, and she’s going to talk about sexual problems, deviations, obsessions, things like that. Ellen said she would be coming too. Interested?

Jan’s heart fluttered. What should she say? Well, she said, then paused. It does sound like something I should know about if I’m going to teach. I have a one o’clock; I’ll get there as soon as I can. She felt herself blushing and turned her face away. She had tried to put her dream out of her mind, but maybe this was a sign. Perhaps the woman would say something helpful.

Jan sat near the door and when her one o’clock class was over, she jogged as fast as she could to the Y cottage. Ellen and Nancy were already in the second row in the small auditorium. Jan slid into a seat next to Ellen.

Hi, Ellen said. Nancy said you were going to try to get here.

I thought it might be something I should know about, Jan answered.

Then the Executive Secretary of the Y came in with the speaker, introducing her as Miss Margaret Thomas. Jan scrunched down in her seat and wondered if Miss Thomas could pick her out of the crowd. She was disappointed in Miss Thomas’ appearance. Dressed in a peasant-style dress, she was probably in her thirties, a little overweight with dull blond hair, brown eyes, and a perpetual smile. Not very impressive, Jan thought. But when Miss Thomas began talking, everyone paid attention and started taking notes. Obviously used to speaking in public, she was well-organized and funny. She covered the whole gamut of sexual deviations, giving examples from literature as well as her own knowledge. Homosexuality was one of the aspects covered, but she didn’t condemn it.

At the end of the talk, Miss Thomas said she was still in the process of gathering material for her dissertation and would appreciate anyone in the audience getting in touch with her if they had any of the problems she’d discussed. If they felt in need of therapy, there would be no charge. When Miss Thomas wrote her phone number on the blackboard, Jan copied it down, but leaned forward and shielded her hand so that Ellen wouldn’t notice. Jan wasn’t sure she’d ever have the courage to call, but wanted the number just in case.

Afterwards, Ellen, Nancy, and Jan had tea together in the patio. Nancy laughed and said, You know, I think I should call Miss Thomas. I’m serious. I could fill her in on a place she should know about. Plenty of case studies for her there. She grinned at them. Last month, my boy friend Jim took me bumming around San Francisco, going from place to place, having a drink in each one. One place was a night club just for women. She paused and looked at their startled faces. I’m not kidding. It’s called Mona’s, and it’s right on Broadway. The women were even dancing together. You should have seen them. She smiled. I could take you there if you’d like to go. It would be a learning experience for you two.

Jan’s heart was pumping faster than usual. She took a breath and tried to look calm. She knew she couldn’t lose this opportunity. She had to speak up. When she did, her voice sounded false to her. Nancy, I do think we all ought to know about places like that. Could you really take us there? Could we go without a man? She turned and looked at Ellen. Wouldn’t you like to go?

Ellen stared at her. Gosh. I’d be scared.

Nancy laughed. "Great idea, Jan. We’ve never gone out on the town together. And it is something we should know about. They say you can find anything in the way of sex in San Francisco if you know where to look. I dare you to go with me."

Ellen said, Oh, I really don’t think I could, Nancy. I’d be too embarrassed.

Jan leaned forward. You’d be with us. She thought a moment, knowing it was time to propose something definite. How about Friday night? I usually go out with Bob on Saturday nights. She wanted Nancy to know that she had a boyfriend too. Say, why don’t we have dinner in the City first? Make it a real night out?

Nancy said, Great. I know just the spot, and it’s walking distance from Mona’s. A good Italian place. What do you say, Ellen? Be a sport.

Ellen looked from one to the other. "Well, I haven’t been out to dinner in the City for ages. I’d like to go if it wouldn’t be too expensive. And I guess I