CHAPTER XXXIV

by Sinclair Lewis

　　CHAPTER XXXIVITHE Good Citizens' League had spread through the country, but nowherewas it so effective and well esteemed as in cities of the type ofZenith, commercial cities of a few hundred thousand inhabitants, mostof which--though not all--lay inland, against a background ofcornfields and mines and of small towns which depended upon them formortgage-loans, table-manners, art, social philosophy and millinery.To the League belonged most of the prosperous citizens of Zenith. Theywere not all of the kind who called themselves "Regular Guys." Besidesthese hearty fellows, these salesmen of prosperity, there were thearistocrats, that is, the men who were richer or had been rich for moregenerations: the presidents of banks and of factories, the land-owners,the corporation lawyers, the fashionable doctors, and the few young-oldmen who worked not at all but, reluctantly remaining in Zenith,collected luster-ware and first editions as though they were back inParis. All of them agreed that the working-classes must be kept in theirplace; and all of them perceived that American Democracy did not implyany equality of wealth, but did demand a wholesome sameness of thought,dress, painting, morals, and vocabulary.In this they were like the ruling-class of any other country,particularly of Great Britain, but they differed in being more vigorousand in actually trying to produce the accepted standards which allclasses, everywhere, desire, but usually despair of realizing.The longest struggle of the Good Citizens' League was against theOpen Shop--which was secretly a struggle against all union labor.Accompanying it was an Americanization Movement, with evening classes inEnglish and history and economics, and daily articles in the newspapers,so that newly arrived foreigners might learn that the true-blue andone hundred per cent. American way of settling labor-troubles was forworkmen to trust and love their employers.The League was more than generous in approving other organizationswhich agreed with its aims. It helped the Y.M. C.A. to raise atwo-hundred-thousand-dollar fund for a new building. Babbitt, VergilGunch, Sidney Finkelstein, and even Charles McKelvey told the spectatorsat movie theaters how great an influence for manly Christianity the"good old Y." had been in their own lives; and the hoar and mightyColonel Rutherford Snow, owner of the Advocate-Times, was photographedclasping the hand of Sheldon Smeeth of the Y.M.C.A. It is truethat afterward, when Smeeth lisped, "You must come to one of ourprayer-meetings," the ferocious Colonel bellowed, "What the hell wouldI do that for? I've got a bar of my own," but this did not appear in thepublic prints.The League was of value to the American Legion at a time when certain ofthe lesser and looser newspapers were criticizing that organization ofveterans of the Great War. One evening a number of young men raidedthe Zenith Socialist Headquarters, burned its records, beat theoffice staff, and agreeably dumped desks out of the window. All of thenewspapers save the Advocate-Times and the Evening Advocate attributedthis valuable but perhaps hasty direct-action to the American Legion.Then a flying squadron from the Good Citizens' League called on theunfair papers and explained that no ex-soldier could possibly do sucha thing, and the editors saw the light, and retained their advertising.When Zenith's lone Conscientious Objector came home from prison and wasrighteously run out of town, the newspapers referred to the perpetratorsas an "unidentified mob."IIIn all the activities and triumphs of the Good Citizens' League Babbitttook part, and completely won back to self-respect, placidity, and theaffection of his friends. But he began to protest, "Gosh, I've done myshare in cleaning up the city. I want to tend to business. Think I'lljust kind of slacken up on this G.C.L. stuff now."He had returned to the church as he had returned to the Boosters' Club.He had even endured the lavish greeting which Sheldon Smeeth gave him.He was worried lest during his late discontent he had imperiled hissalvation. He was not quite sure there was a Heaven to be attained, butDr. John Jennison Drew said there was, and Babbitt was not going to takea chance.One evening when he was walking past Dr. Drew's parsonage he impulsivelywent in and found the pastor in his study."Jus' minute--getting 'phone call," said Dr. Drew in businesslike tones,then, aggressively, to the telephone: "'Lo--'lo! This Berkey and Hannis?Reverend Drew speaking. Where the dickens is the proof for next Sunday'scalendar? Huh? Y' ought to have it here. Well, I can't help it ifthey're ALL sick! I got to have it to-night. Get an A.D.T. boy and shootit up here quick."He turned, without slackening his briskness. "Well, Brother Babbitt,what c'n I do for you?""I just wanted to ask--Tell you how it is, dominie: Here a while ago Iguess I got kind of slack. Took a few drinks and so on. What I wantedto ask is: How is it if a fellow cuts that all out and comes back to hissenses? Does it sort of, well, you might say, does it score against himin the long run?"The Reverend Dr. Drew was suddenly interested. "And, uh, brother--theother things, too? Women?""No, practically, you might say, practically not at all.""Don't hesitate to tell me, brother! That's what I'm here for. Beengoing on joy-rides? Squeezing girls in cars?" The reverend eyesglistened."No--no--""Well, I'll tell you. I've got a deputation from the Don't MakeProhibition a Joke Association coming to see me in a quarter of anhour, and one from the Anti-Birth-Control Union at a quarter of ten." Hebusily glanced at his watch. "But I can take five minutes off and praywith you. Kneel right down by your chair, brother. Don't be ashamed toseek the guidance of God."Babbitt's scalp itched and he longed to flee, but Dr. Drew had alreadyflopped down beside his desk-chair and his voice had changed fromrasping efficiency to an unctuous familiarity with sin and with theAlmighty. Babbitt also knelt, while Drew gloated:"O Lord, thou seest our brother here, who has been led astray bymanifold temptations. O Heavenly Father, make his heart to be pure,as pure as a little child's. Oh, let him know again the joy of a manlycourage to abstain from evil--"Sheldon Smeeth came frolicking into the study. At the sight of the twomen he smirked, forgivingly patted Babbitt on the shoulder, andknelt beside him, his arm about him, while he authorized Dr. Drew'simprecations with moans of "Yes, Lord! Help our brother, Lord!"Though he was trying to keep his eyes closed, Babbitt squinted betweenhis fingers and saw the pastor glance at his watch as he concluded witha triumphant, "And let him never be afraid to come to Us for counsel andtender care, and let him know that the church can lead him as a littlelamb."Dr. Drew sprang up, rolled his eyes in the general direction of Heaven,chucked his watch into his pocket, and demanded, "Has the deputationcome yet, Sheldy?""Yep, right outside," Sheldy answered, with equal liveliness; then,caressingly, to Babbitt, "Brother, if it would help, I'd love to go intothe next room and pray with you while Dr. Drew is receiving the brothersfrom the Don't Make Prohibition a Joke Association.""No--no thanks--can't take the time!" yelped Babbitt, rushing toward thedoor.Thereafter he was often seen at the Chatham Road Presbyterian Church,but it is recorded that he avoided shaking hands with the pastor at thedoor.IIIIf his moral fiber had been so weakened by rebellion that he was notquite dependable in the more rigorous campaigns of the Good Citizens'League nor quite appreciative of the church, yet there was no doubt ofthe joy with which Babbitt returned to the pleasures of his home and ofthe Athletic Club, the Boosters, the Elks.Verona and Kenneth Escott were eventually and hesitatingly married.For the wedding Babbitt was dressed as carefully as was Verona; he wascrammed into the morning-coat he wore to teas thrice a year; and with acertain relief, after Verona and Kenneth had driven away in a limousine,he returned to the house, removed the morning coat, sat with his achingfeet up on the davenport, and reflected that his wife and he could havethe living-room to themselves now, and not have to listen to Verona andKenneth worrying, in a cultured collegiate manner, about minimum wagesand the Drama League.But even this sinking into peace was less consoling than his return tobeing one of the best-loved men in the Boosters' Club.IVPresident Willis Ijams began that Boosters' Club luncheon by standingquiet and staring at them so unhappily that they feared he was aboutto announce the death of a Brother Booster. He spoke slowly then, andgravely:"Boys, I have something shocking to reveal to you; something terribleabout one of our own members."Several Boosters, including Babbitt, looked disconcerted."A knight of the grip, a trusted friend of mine, recently made a tripup-state, and in a certain town, where a certain Booster spent hisboyhood, he found out something which can no longer be concealed. Infact, he discovered the inward nature of a man whom we have accepted asa Real Guy and as one of us. Gentlemen, I cannot trust my voice to sayit, so I have written it down."He uncovered a large blackboard and on it, in huge capitals, was thelegend:George Follansbee Babbitt--oh you Folly!The Boosters cheered, they laughed, they wept, they threw rolls atBabbitt, they cried, "Speech, speech! Oh you Folly!"President Ijams continued:"That, gentlemen, is the awful thing Georgie Babbitt has been concealingall these years, when we thought he was just plain George F. Now I wantyou to tell us, taking it in turn, what you've always supposed the F.stood for."Flivver, they suggested, and Frog-face and Flathead and Farinaceous andFreezone and Flapdoodle and Foghorn. By the joviality of their insultsBabbitt knew that he had been taken back to their hearts, and happily herose."Boys, I've got to admit it. I've never worn a wrist-watch, or partedmy name in the middle, but I will confess to 'Follansbee.' My onlyjustification is that my old dad--though otherwise he was perfectlysane, and packed an awful wallop when it came to trimming the CityFellers at checkers--named me after the family doc, old Dr. AmbroseFollansbee. I apologize, boys. In my next what-d'you-call-it I'll seeto it that I get named something really practical--something that soundsswell and yet is good and virile--something, in fact, like thatgrand old name so familiar to every household--that bold and almostoverpowering name, Willis Jimjams Ijams!"He knew by the cheer that he was secure again and popular; he knew thathe would no more endanger his security and popularity by straying fromthe Clan of Good Fellows.VHenry Thompson dashed into the office, clamoring, "George! Big news!Jake Offutt says the Traction Bunch are dissatisfied with the waySanders, Torrey and Wing handled their last deal, and they're willing todicker with us!"Babbitt was pleased in the realization that the last scar of hisrebellion was healed, yet as he drove home he was annoyed by suchbackground thoughts as had never weakened him in his days of belligerentconformity. He discovered that he actually did not consider the Tractiongroup quite honest. "Well, he'd carry out one more deal for them, butas soon as it was practicable, maybe as soon as old Henry Thompson died,he'd break away from all association from them. He was forty-eight; intwelve years he'd be sixty; he wanted to leave a clean business to hisgrandchildren. Course there was a lot of money in negotiating for theTraction people, and a fellow had to look at things in a practical way,only--" He wriggled uncomfortably. He wanted to tell the Traction groupwhat he thought of them. "Oh, he couldn't do it, not now. If he offendedthem this second time, they would crush him. But--"He was conscious that his line of progress seemed confused. He wonderedwhat he would do with his future. He was still young; was he throughwith all adventuring? He felt that he had been trapped into the verynet from which he had with such fury escaped and, supremest jest of all,been made to rejoice in the trapping."They've licked me; licked me to a finish!" he whimpered.The house was peaceful, that evening, and he enjoyed a game of pinochlewith his wife. He indignantly told the Tempter that he was content to dothings in the good old fashioned way. The day after, he went to see thepurchasing-agent of the Street Traction Company and they made plans forthe secret purchase of lots along the Evanston Road. But as he drove tohis office he struggled, "I'm going to run things and figure out thingsto suit myself--when I retire."VITed had come down from the University for the week-end. Though he nolonger spoke of mechanical engineering and though he was reticent abouthis opinion of his instructors, he seemed no more reconciled to college,and his chief interest was his wireless telephone set.On Saturday evening he took Eunice Littlefield to a dance at DevonWoods. Babbitt had a glimpse of her, bouncing in the seat of the car,brilliant in a scarlet cloak over a frock of thinnest creamy silk. Theytwo had not returned when the Babbitts went to bed, at half-past eleven.At a blurred indefinite time of late night Babbitt was awakened bythe ring of the telephone and gloomily crawled down-stairs. HowardLittlefield was speaking:"George, Euny isn't back yet. Is Ted?""No--at least his door is open--""They ought to be home. Eunice said the dance would be over at midnight.What's the name of those people where they're going?""Why, gosh, tell the truth, I don't know, Howard. It's some classmate ofTed's, out in Devon Woods. Don't see what we can do. Wait, I'll skip upand ask Myra if she knows their name."Babbitt turned on the light in Ted's room. It was a brown boyish room;disordered dresser, worn books, a high-school pennant, photographs ofbasket-ball teams and baseball teams. Ted was decidedly not there.Mrs. Babbitt, awakened, irritably observed that she certainly did notknow the name of Ted's host, that it was late, that Howard Littlefieldwas but little better than a born fool, and that she was sleepy. Butshe remained awake and worrying while Babbitt, on the sleeping-porch,struggled back into sleep through the incessant soft rain of herremarks. It was after dawn when he was aroused by her shaking him andcalling "George! George!" in something like horror."Wha--wha--what is it?""Come here quick and see. Be quiet!"She led him down the hall to the door of Ted's room and pushed it gentlyopen. On the worn brown rug he saw a froth of rose-colored chiffonlingerie; on the sedate Morris chair a girl's silver slipper. And on thepillows were two sleepy heads--Ted's and Eunice's.Ted woke to grin, and to mutter with unconvincing defiance, "Goodmorning! Let me introduce my wife--Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt EuniceLittlefield Babbitt, Esquiress.""Good God!" from Babbitt, and from his wife a long wailing, "You've goneand--""We got married last evening. Wife! Sit up and say a pretty good morningto mother-in-law."But Eunice hid her shoulders and her charming wild hair under thepillow.By nine o'clock the assembly which was gathered about Ted and Eunicein the living-room included Mr. and Mrs. George Babbitt, Dr. and Mrs.Howard Littlefield, Mr. and Mrs. Kenneth Escott, Mr. and Mrs. HenryT. Thompson, and Tinka Babbitt, who was the only pleased member of theinquisition.A crackling shower of phrases filled the room:"At their age--" "Ought to be annulled--" "Never heard of such a thingin--" "Fault of both of them and--" "Keep it out of the papers--" "Oughtto be packed off to school--" "Do something about it at once, and what Isay is--" "Damn good old-fashioned spanking--"Worst of them all was Verona. "TED! Some way MUST be found to make youunderstand how dreadfully SERIOUS this is, instead of standing AROUNDwith that silly foolish SMILE on your face!"He began to revolt. "Gee whittakers, Rone, you got married yourself,didn't you?""That's entirely different.""You bet it is! They didn't have to work on Eu and me with a chain andtackle to get us to hold hands!""Now, young man, we'll have no more flippancy," old Henry Thompsonordered. "You listen to me.""You listen to Grandfather!" said Verona."Yes, listen to your Grandfather!" said Mrs. Babbitt."Ted, you listen to Mr. Thompson!" said Howard Littlefield."Oh, for the love o' Mike, I am listening!" Ted shouted. "But you lookhere, all of you! I'm getting sick and tired of being the corpse in thispost mortem! If you want to kill somebody, go kill the preacher thatmarried us! Why, he stung me five dollars, and all the money I had inthe world was six dollars and two bits. I'm getting just about enough ofbeing hollered at!"A new voice, booming, authoritative, dominated the room. It was Babbitt."Yuh, there's too darn many putting in their oar! Rone, you dry up.Howard and I are still pretty strong, and able to do our own cussing.Ted, come into the dining-room and we'll talk this over."In the dining-room, the door firmly closed, Babbitt walked to his son,put both hands on his shoulders. "You're more or less right. They alltalk too much. Now what do you plan to do, old man?""Gosh, dad, are you really going to be human?""Well, I--Remember one time you called us 'the Babbitt men' and said weought to stick together? I want to. I don't pretend to think this isn'tserious. The way the cards are stacked against a young fellow to-day, Ican't say I approve of early marriages. But you couldn't have married abetter girl than Eunice; and way I figure it, Littlefield is darn luckyto get a Babbitt for a son-in-law! But what do you plan to do? Courseyou could go right ahead with the U., and when you'd finished--""Dad, I can't stand it any more. Maybe it's all right for some fellows.Maybe I'll want to go back some day. But me, I want to get intomechanics. I think I'd get to be a good inventor. There's a fellow thatwould give me twenty dollars a week in a factory right now.""Well--" Babbitt crossed the floor, slowly, ponderously, seeming alittle old. "I've always wanted you to have a college degree." Hemeditatively stamped across the floor again. "But I've never--Now, forheaven's sake, don't repeat this to your mother, or she'd remove whatlittle hair I've got left, but practically, I've never done a singlething I've wanted to in my whole life! I don't know 's I've accomplishedanything except just get along. I figure out I've made about a quarterof an inch out of a possible hundred rods. Well, maybe you'll carrythings on further. I don't know. But I do get a kind of sneakingpleasure out of the fact that you knew what you wanted to do and didit. Well, those folks in there will try to bully you, and tame you down.Tell 'em to go to the devil! I'll back you. Take your factory job, ifyou want to. Don't be scared of the family. No, nor all of Zenith. Norof yourself, the way I've been. Go ahead, old man! The world is yours!"Arms about each other's shoulders, the Babbitt men marched into theliving-room and faced the swooping family.