Tuesday, 5 August 1952, time line two, started as a sad day for Maureen… utterly
alone for the first time in my life, alone with the tedious chore of cleaning out
and closing up our old farmhouse and getting rid of it. But a glad day in one way.
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My married life had ended when Brian divorced me; my widowhood ended when Susan got
married; this chore marked the start of my bachelorhood.
The difference between widowhood and bachelorhood? Please look at it historically.
When I married, at the end of the nineteenth century, women were unmistakably second
class citizens and everyone took it for granted. In most states a woman could not
vote, or sign contracts, or own real estate, or sit on juries, or do any number of
other mundane acts without the consent of some man – her father, her husband, or her
eldest son. Most professions, trades, and occupations were closed to her. A woman
lawyer, a woman doctor, a woman engineer aroused the same surprise as a waltzing
bear.
`The wonder is not how well the bear waitzes but that it waltzes at all.’ That is
from Dr Samuel Johnson, I believe – a man who regarded women as no better than
third-class citizens, lower than Scotsmen or Americans – two groups quite low in his
esteem.
All through the twentieth century the legal status of women slowly improved. By 1982
almost all the laws discriminating against women had been repealed.
More subtle but at least as important and beyond repeal was the cultural bias
against women. An example:
In the summer of 1940 when we were living on Woodlawn Avenue in Chicago, we were
especially loaded with house guests during the mo weeks bridging the Democratic
National Convention. One Howard trustee, Rufus Briggs, said to me one morning at
breakfast, I left my laundry on that balcony couch where I slept. I need
twenty-four-hour service on it and tell them to soft starch the collars – no other
starch.’
I said briskly, ‘Tell them yourself’ I was not feeling overly sweet-tempered, as I
had been up late the night before, arranging shake-downs for late arrivals, such as
Briggs himself – he was, one of the cheerful idiots who had arrived in Chicago
oblivious to the fact that for this period all hotel space as far away as Gary,
Indiana, had been booked solid months earlier. Then I dragged myself out of bed
early and ate in the kitchen in order to cook and serve breakfast to a dozen other
people.
Briggs looked at me as if he could not believe his ears. ‘Aren’t you the
housekeeper?’
`I’m the housekeeper. But I’m not your servant.’
Briggs blinked his eyes, then turned to Brian. ‘Mr Smith?’
Brian said quietly, ‘You have made a mistake, Mr Briggs. This lady is my wife. You
met her last night but the lights were dimmed and we were whispering because others
were asleep. So apparently you did not recognise her this morning. But I am sure Mrs
Smith would be happy to send your laundry out for you as a favour to a guest.’
I said, ‘No, I would not’
It was Briney’s turn to look startled. ‘Maureen?’
‘I won’t send out his laundry and I will not cook his breakfast tomorrow morning.
His only comment this morning was to complain about his eggs; he did not even say
thank you when I put his breakfast in front of him. So he can go out for breakfast
tomorrow. I imagine he’ll find something open on 63rd Street. But I have this
announcement for all of you,’ I added, looking around. ‘We have no servants here. I
am just as anxious to get to Convention Hall on time as you are. Yesterday I was
late because I was making beds and doing dishes. Only one of you made your own bed –
thanks, Merle! I’m not going to make beds today; if you don’t make your own bed, you
will find it still unmade when you get back. Right now I want volunteers to clear
the table and do the dishes… and if I don’t get them, I am not going to cook