Heinlein, Robert A – A Bathroom Of Her Own

Heinlein, Robert A – A Bathroom Of Her Own

Heinlein, Robert A – A Bathroom Of Her Own

You may not be old enough to remember the acute housing shortage following World War II (the subject of this story) but if you are over six but not yet old enough for the undertaker, you are aware of the current problem of getting in out of the rain…a problem especially acute for the young couple with one baby and for the retired old couple trying to get by on Social “Security” plus savings if any. (I am not suggesting that it is easy for those between youth and old age; the present price of mortgage money constitutes rape with violence; the price tag on an honestly-constructed-if you can find one-two-bedroom house makes me feel faint.)

In 1960 in Moscow Mrs. Heinlein and I had as Intourist courier a sweet child named Ludmilla — 23, unmarried, living with her father, mother, brother and sisters. She told us that her ambition in life was for her family not to have to share a bathroom with another family.

The next aesthete who sneers at our American “plumbing culture” in my presence I intend to cut into small pieces and flush him down that W.C. he despises.

Any old pol will recognize the politics in this story as the Real McCoy. Should be. Autobiographical in many details. Which details? Show me a warrant and I’ll take the Fifth.

A BATHROOM OF HER OWN

Ever step on a top step that wasn’t there?

That’s the way I felt when I saw my honorable opponent for the office of city councilman, third district.

Tom Griffith had telephoned at the close of filing, to let me know my opponents. “Alfred McNye,” he said, “and Francis X. Nelson.”

“McNye we can forget,” I mused. “He files just for the advertising. It’s a three-way race-me, this Nelson party, and the present encumbrance, Judge Jorgens. Maybe we’ll settle it in the primaries.” Our fair city has the system laughingly called “non-partisan”; a man can be elected in the primary by getting a clear majority.

“Jorgens didn’t file, Jack. The old thief isn’t running for re-election.”

I let this sink in. “Tom, we might as well tear up those photostats. Do you suppose Tully’s boys are conceding our district?”

“The machine can’t concede the third district, not this year. It must be Nelson.”

“I suppose so…it can’t be McNye. What d’you know about him?”

“Nothing.”

“Nor I. Well, we’ll look him over tonight.” The Civic League had called a “meet-the-candidates” meeting that night. I drove out to the trailer camp where I hang my hat-then a shower, a shave, put on my hurtin’ shoes, and back to town. It gave me time to think.

It’s not unusual for a machine to replace-temporarily-a man whose record smells too ripe with a citizen of no background to be sniped at. I could visualize Nelson-young, manly looking, probably a lawyer and certainly a veteran. He would be so politically naive that he would stand without hitching, or so ambitious that it would blind him to what he must do to keep the support of the machine. Either way the machine could use him.

I got there just in time to be introduced and take a seat on the platform. I couldn’t spot Nelson but I did see Cliff Meyers, standing with some girl. Meyers is a handyman for Boss Tully-Nelson would be around close

McNye accepted the call of the peepul in a few hundred well-worn words then the chairman introduced Nelson ” — a veteran of this war and candidate for the same office”

The girl standing with Meyers walked up and took the stage

They clapped and somebody in the balcony gave a wolf whistle Instead of getting flustered, she smiled up and said, “Thank you!”

They clapped again and whistled and stomped She started talking I’m not bright-I had trouble learning to wave bye-bye and never did master patty-cake. I expected her to apologize for Nelson’s absence and identify herself as his wife or sister or something. She was into her fourth paragraph before I realized that she was Nelson. j Francis X. Nelson-Frances X. Nelson. I wondered what I had done to deserve this. Female candidates are poison to run against at best; you don’t dare use the ordinary rough-and-tumble, while she is free to use anything from a blacksnake whip to mickeys in your coffee.

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