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T h e C OnT e nder
 al so by irwin f. g e l l ma n

Secret Affairs: Franklin Roosevelt, Cordell Hull, and Sumner

Welles

Good Neighbor Diplomacy: United States Policies in Latin

America, 1933–1945

Roosevelt and Batista: Good Neighbor Diplomacy in Cuba,

1933–1945

The President and the Apprentice: Eisenhower and Nixon,

1952–1961
I rw I n F. G e l l m A n

The
ConTender
rIChArd nIXOn
T h e C O n G r e S S Y e A r S , 1946 –1952

With a New Preface

New Haven and London

First Yale University Press edition 2017. First published in 1999 by The
Free Press, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.

Preface to the Paperback edition copyright © 2017 by Irwin F. Gellman.

Copyright © 1999 by Irwin F. Gellman.

All rights reserved.

This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, including
illustrations, in any form (beyond that copying permitted by Sections 107
and 108 of the U.S. Copyright law and except by reviewers for the public
press), without written permission from the publishers.

All photographs courtesy of the richard nixon Foundation.

Yale University Press books may be purchased in quantity for educational,

business, or promotional use. For information, please e-mail
[email protected] (U.S. office) or [email protected] (U.K. office).

designed by Carla Bolte.

Printed in the United States of America.

library of Congress Control number: 2016953681

ISBn 978-0-300-22020-9 (pbk. : alk. paper)

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British library.

This paper meets the requirements of AnSI/nISO Z39.48-1992

(Permanence of Paper).

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FOR MY W I F E

G L O R I A GAE
This page intentionally left blank
 C o n te n ts

Preface to the Paperback Edition ix

Acknowledgments xv

Preface 1

1 The Prerequisites for a Congressional Candidate 5

2 Nixon’s First Primary 25

3 Nixon Versus Voorhis 61

4 Learning the Congressional Routine 89

5 Nixon and HUAC 107

6 The Herter Committee 120

7 Sharpening Foreign and Domestic Priorities 144

8 Running for Reelection 167

9 Moving Onto the National Stage 181

10 Nixon: Chambers Versus Hiss 196

11 The Pumpkin, Father Cronin, the FBI, and Duggan 225

12 Nixon, Communism, and the Truman Triumph 253

13 Stepping Sideways to Move Up 264

14 The 1950 Primary 289

15 Douglas Versus Nixon: The Issues 306

16 Fifty-one Days in the Fall: Nixon Versus Douglas—

Reality and Legend 319

17 Communism and Korea 344

18 Corruption in the Highest Places 372

19 “Electability” and Other Issues 391

20 The 1952 Convention 422

Epilogue: Nixon and His Detractors—

Whom Should We Believe? 451

Notes 461
Bibliography 541
Glossary of Characters 553
Index 559
P r e fa c e to the Pape rbac k E d iti on

The state of current scholarship on richard nixon requires me to

state, at the outset, that I am neither for nor against him. my purpose
in writing The Contender was never to boost nixon’s historical reputa-
tion—nor to depress it—but rather to provide the basis on which any
such reevaluation must be built. I hoped to write, to the extent that the
written record and my own abilities allow, an accurate chronicle of this
very interesting and complex man’s early life and career in Congress.
Before we can begin to discern the larger historical meaning of events
or embark on the always fraught task of attempting moral judgments,
we need some reliable knowledge of what those events were: the things
various people actually did and said and what in fact happened.
I did not begin as a nixon advocate; far from it. like many academ-
ics, I did not have a positive opinion of him. But neither was I a nixon
hater. what drew me to the subject was that I had written extensively
on Franklin d. roosevelt and had examined a large amount of material
written by democrats. I had not seen a similar amount of data from a
republican perspective. what I discovered in my research was that no
one had carefully explored nixon’s rich collection. In spite of this, many
had written their personal judgments based on erroneous assumptions
without reviewing essential documentation.
when The Contender was released, in the summer of 1999, I an-
ticipated controversy, but the amount of hostility and the reasons for
it surprised me. Although most reviewers discussed the merits of my
arguments, a vocal minority saw nothing to be gained from any analysis
of nixon’s congressional career. I was castigated as a revisionist because
I based my account of his rise on the extensive documentation in his
own manuscripts, and in many other collections, and because I used
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 P r e F A C e T O T h e PA P e r B A C K e d I T I O n

that written record to challenge and correct a wide variety of factual

and interpretative errors.
The energetic novice politician who emerged from those records,
whom a significant number of Californians had found immensely ap-
pealing, is hard to reconcile with the darkly paranoid figure of the water-
gate years that dominates popular imagination. nixon was controversial
even before then, of course, but I believe the stain of watergate makes
him ineligible, in many people’s minds, for the reassessment normally
applied to historical figures over time. For some, the ineligibility even
extends to corrections of fact.
most of the dubious statements later accepted as true were first con-
jured up by nixon’s political opponents. For example, roger morris,
in his 1990 account of nixon’s early career, charged that the Com-
mittee of 100, formed to support nixon’s first run for Congress in
1946, was composed of millionaires who secretly bankrolled his cam-
paign. (morris never explains how he uncovered this “secret.”) In fact,
the committee included a wide variety of republicans, mostly small
businessmen and partisans, who passionately championed the defeat of
nixon’s opponent, the five-term Congressman Jerry Voorhis. nixon’s
campaign did not depend on massive amounts of secret funding; he
received contributions from many supporters and also put up his own
money.
The reasons nixon won were not mysterious. he began running
against Voorhis in January 1946; the congressman did not start cam-
paigning until late September. nixon’s and Voorhis’s documents alike
demonstrate that nixon did not conduct a dirty campaign against the
incumbent; he had no need to do that. Voorhis was an awful candidate.
even during the month or so Voorhis spent actively campaigning, he did
not particularly exert himself. The charges that nixon employed ne-
farious means to defeat him—for instance, that nixon activists phoned
voters and told them Voorhis was a Communist—came long after the
results were in and were never credibly verified.The idea that nixon did
something unsavory to secure his victory was persuasive to those who
took it as a given that he was too unpopular to win on his own, but it
does not emerge from the record.
Upon entering Congress in January 1947, nixon quickly declared
himself an internationalist, unlike many in his party. Six months later,
as a member of the house Select Committee on Foreign Aid (better
known as the herter Committee), he traveled to western europe to

x
 P r e F A C e T O T h e PA P e r B A C K e d I T I O n

help assess the physical damage caused by world war II and the need
for United States assistance. This led to the marshall Plan and the Tru-
man doctrine, both of which nixon enthusiastically championed. As a
member of the education and labor Committee, he helped to draft the
Taft-hartley Act, which restricted union activities. he voted for it, and
after Truman vetoed the bill, nixon joined the overwhelming majority
who overrode the veto.
his efforts on the house Committee on Un-American Activities
(hUAC) drew, by far, the most headlines. many authors have particularly
condemned him for his role in investigating the hollywood Ten—a
group of prominent individuals from the movie industry who were
publicly attacked for past Communist involvement and forced to appear
before hUAC, and who refused to testify, went to prison, and were later
blacklisted—even though nixon had not participated. he was in eu-
rope with the herter mission at the time of the hearings.
many of nixon’s adversaries accused him of “red baiting” and saw
him as a clone of Senator Joseph mcCarthy. Fawn Brodie, in Richard
Nixon: The Shaping of His Character (1981), claimed: “mcCarthy was
nixon in caricature, nixon out of control, nixon turned nihilist.” many
authors depend on Brodie for their portraits of the nixon-mcCarthy
relationship, but there were vast differences between the two men. nix-
on never made the wild, scattershot accusations of Communist infil-
tration that got mcCarthy so much press. nixon targeted those who
admitted they had Communist connections.
For decades, the prime exhibit for accusations that nixon did target
the innocent was his investigation of Alger hiss, whom he exposed as a
Communist in the summer of 1948. hiss was later convicted of perjury
(the statute of limitation had run out on spying) and served time in a
federal prison. he vehemently denied the charge for the rest of his life,
and his defenders alleged that nixon had maliciously persecuted hiss to
further his own political career.
The debate over hiss’s guilt or innocence remained unresolved
during his and nixon’s lifetimes, but with the collapse of the Soviet
Union and the release of some of its intelligence records, evidence
mounted that hiss had been a Soviet spy. Any remaining doubt evapo-
rated in 2010 with the publication of Spies by John haynes and harvey
Klehr, two of the premier scholars of Soviet espionage.They used docu-
ments furnished by coauthor Alexander Vassiliev, a former KGB officer,
to show conclusively that hiss had been a Soviet asset, under the code

xi
 P r e F A C e T O T h e PA P e r B A C K e d I T I O n

name “AleS.” even hiss’s most ardent surviving defenders have stopped
trying to exonerate him.
The national attention nixon received for his role in the hiss affair
encouraged him to run for the Senate in 1950. Once again he faced a
weak opponent, Congresswoman helen Gahagan douglas. documents
from the nixon collection as well as the douglas papers at the University
of Oklahoma show that the congresswoman represented the extreme
left of the democratic Party and was unable to unite the rest of the
party behind her. She ran a poorly organized campaign with inadequate
funding and did not appeal to a large enough bloc of democratic vot-
ers. nixon won by over twenty percentage points, the largest margin of
victory in any Senate race that year.
The obvious explanation for this outcome—that nixon was the
better-organized and better-known candidate—did not satisfy douglas’s
supporters. Once again he was accused, after the fact, of running a dirty
campaign. he allegedly stated publicly that douglas was “pink right
down to her underwear,” a charge that is repeated in many books and
articles even though it does not appear, as far as I can tell, in any con-
temporary accounts of the campaign.The quote does appear as a private
utterance. In a 1972 memoir, Back When It All Began, william Arnold,
the campaign’s public relations specialist, has nixon saying it as he en-
tered his hotel room after being told that douglas had said something
nasty about him. But nixon never publicly referred to his adversary
as “pink” or called her a Communist. he did question her judgment,
and he approved of the “pink sheet,” a campaign flyer printed on pink
paper that compared douglas’s voting record to that of the far-left Con-
gressman Vito marcantino. democrats called this a dirty tactic but did
not comment on douglas’s newspaper advertisements, which compared
nixon to mussolini, hitler, and Stalin. In fact, this campaign was highly
emotional and occasionally unsavory on both sides, but not outside the
norm for this era or most other eras in American history.
This book ends with the events leading up to the 1952 republican
national convention. nixon went to Chicago for the platform com-
mittee deliberations, then flew to denver to join the California dele-
gation’s train, which was heading back to Chicago. while on this trip,
nixon discussed the possible presidential nominees with Governor earl
warren and others. nixon correctly concluded that the battle for the
nomination would be between General dwight eisenhower and Ohio
Senator robert Taft.

xii
 P r e F A C e T O T h e PA P e r B A C K e d I T I O n

Some writers later claimed that nixon tried to stage a revolt on the
train against favorite son warren by asking the delegates to vote for Ike.
This charge is baseless.warren had won the California primary, and state
law required the delegates to vote for him unless he released them to
vote as they preferred. he never did, and in the convention’s first ballot
he came in third behind eisenhower and Taft. Ike then appointed war-
ren the chief justice of the United States.
when you read this paperback edition, take into consideration that
nobody knew what was coming. The nation had emerged from world
war II as the world’s only superpower with the atom bomb, but within
months of the armistice, America faced new challenges from the Soviet
Union and international Communism. The Cold war would continue
for decades; the nixon presidency and watergate did not yet exist. The
nixon of these years was young, determined, idealistic, hopeful, and in
just the first stage of his meteoric rise to power.

xiii
This page intentionally left blank
Acknowledgments

Before I begin to thank those who have contributed to this par-

ticular work, I would first like to pay tribute to a friend and scholar.
Frank Freidel acted as a mentor to me, found the publisher for my first as
well as my second book, and wrote jacket blurbs for my books until he
passed away. I miss him. He was the class of his scholarly and gentlemanly
class.
David Fletcher supervised my graduate studies, when he and my
other major professors stressed two major themes: first, the research had
to be exhaustive, and second, the writing had to be the best that I could
do. In regard to the former, this book rests extensively on two archives.
The first is the Richard Nixon Library & Birthplace. John Taylor,
executive director, could not have provided a more conducive environ-
ment for my work. Beverly Lindy, assistant to the archivist, could not
have provided a more enjoyable setting in which to do my work. How-
ever, Susan Naulty, the archivist who cherishes the manuscripts under
her control, occupies a special place of distinction. She has gone beyond
any call of duty to provide me with every available document up to the
last possible moment for my examination.
Second, the National Archives and Records Administration, Pacific
Southwest Region, houses the Richard M. Nixon Pre-Presidential Pa-
pers. Diane Nixon, the regional director, has made certain that anything
that can be made available has been, and Paul Wormser, the principal
archivist in charge of this collection, has been exceptional. I cannot
thank them and the other members of the staff enough for their kind-
nesses; they represent professionalism at its best. Milton Gustafson, se-
nior specialist, at the National Archives in College Park, has been a
valued resource since I first started writing.
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Several other critical collections added breadth to this study. The

Jerry Voorhis papers are located at the Claremont Colleges, the Hon-
nold/Mudd Library, under the supervision of Jean Beckner, librarian,
special collections; she and her staff could not have been more accom-
modating to my research needs. The Carl Albert Center at the Univer-
sity of Oklahoma holds the Helen Gahagan Douglas manuscripts, where
archivist Carolyn Hanneman and assistant curator Todd Kosmerick
made my stay profitable. Paul and Carolyn Glad added to my pleasant
stay in Norman not only by providing their warm hospitality, but also by
allowing me time to discuss some ideas with Paul.
Various presidential libraries were obvious stops. The Dwight D.
Eisenhower Library holds a wide variety of manuscripts, and archivist
James Leyerzaft ably provided direction while Kathleen Struss, audiovi-
sual archivist, showed me film and photographs. The Herbert Hoover
Presidential Library had a wide range of material dealing with Hoover
and his relationship to Nixon that archivist Dale Mayer culled out for
me. The Lyndon Baines Johnson Library holds the Drew Pearson collec-
tion, and Claudia Anderson, senior archivist, supplied me with his files.
At the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Library, archivist Raymond Teichman
and Robert Parks assisted me with Laurence Duggan s correspondence
with Sumner Welles. Randy Sowell and Dennis Belger, archivists at the
Harry S. Truman Library, provided me with material relating to the
president's connections to Nixon, and Pauline Testerman, audiovisual
archivist, showed me film of the presidents conversation with Pearson.
Others who went above the call of duty were: at the University of
Notre Dame, archivist William Kevin Cawley helped with the Father
Cronin papers; Bonnie Olson, library associate at the Karl E. Mundt
Historical & Educational Foundation, Dakota State University, provided
data on Mundt s relationship to Nixon; Angela Stockwell, research asso-
ciate at Northwood University, cheerfully aided with the Margaret
Chase Smith papers; at the Hoover Institution Archives, Carol Leaden-
ham, assistant archivist for reference, found letters in the Alfred Kohlberg
collection and located a critical memorandum on the 1952 Republican
national convention in a miscellaneous collection; Michael Austin, man-
uscripts assistant, special collections, Harvard Law School Library, re-
viewed Federal Bureau of Investigation memoranda in the Alger Hiss
collection; at Marquette University, Philip Runkel, assistant archivist in
special collections, provided material from the Charles Kersten papers;
Simon Elliot, university research library, special collections at: the Uni-

xvi
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

versity of California, Los Angeles, assisted with the Ed Cray papers; Fred
Bauman, at the manuscript division of the Library of Congress, located
Nixon's interviews in the Alsop papers; David Roepke, archivist at the
John M. Ashbrook Center for Public Affairs, Ashland University, assisted
with information from the Victor Lasky collection; Melissa Paul,
archivist at the university archives, California State Polytechnic Univer-
sity, Pomona, provided John Balch's essay; Carla Summers, chief manu-
script librarian, Department of Special Collections, University of
Florida, sent me George Smathers's recollection of his relationship with
Nixon; and Gary Kurutz, principal librarian, Special Collection Branch,
California State Library, verified the existence of Jesse B. Blue, Jr. At the
Federal Bureau of Investigation, Julie Icowsky tracked down Edward
Hummer for me, and Linda Kloss sent me another critical document
dealing with the FBI's relationship to the House Committee on Un-
American Activities.
In the specialized field of oral history, Harry Jeffrey spent several
hours with me describing the work of California State University Fuller-
ton in recording the memoirs of individuals connected with Nixon's
early career. Jackie Dooley, director of special collections at the Univer-
sity of California at Irvine, provided copies of the oral history projects
dealing with Helen Gahagan Douglas and Earl Warren.
I owe a special debt to various public libraries in Southern Califor-
nia. I used the one in Whittier for back issues of the Whittier News; in Al-
hambra, Carol Stone, the library's director, assisted me with early
editions of the Alhambra Post-Advocate; in Yorba Linda, James Granitto
helped me with the early editions of the Yorba Linda Star; and from
Pomona, Susan Hutchinson sent me articles from the Pomona Progress-
Bulletin. Even more than the above libraries, the Newport Beach Public
Library has assisted me with my research needs with the greatest skill and
ingenuity. Sometimes the reference librarians found esoteric material
that I did not think that they could ever find. Susan Warren with Susie
Hubbs most ably directs the operation; June Pilsitz located information
on the Internet and everywhere else; she is a jewel. Sara, Steven, Andrea,
Marianne, Claudia, and other staff members could not have been kinder
about my seemingly endless requests.
Herbert Klein read a draft chapter on his role in the 1948 primary
election and made comments, as did Stephen Zetterberg. They cogently
articulated their views, and I listened to their remarks seriously. Ralph de
Toledano allowed me the use of his letters to and from Whittaker Cham-

xvii
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

bers; once they were published, I decided to cite to the published record.
James Gleason read the chapters dealing with Nixon's senatorial years
for accuracy. Marilyn Nielsen introduced me to the works of M. F. K.
Fisher; Richard Corngold shared an article dealing with George Mar-
shall's address at Harvard University; Donald Thompson, assistant trea-
surer in the 1946 election, helped me understand that initial campaign in
greater detail; and Hubert Perry talked to me about his father's relation-
ship with Nixon. Lawrence Klein, M.D., interpreted Nixon's medical
records for me.
Many scholars have helped me with this project. At the University
of California Irvine, Mark Petracca, Jack Peltason, and William Shoen-
feld offered their opinions of some of my early drafts. At Whittier Col-
lege, Joseph Dmohowski, serials, science, and special collections
librarian, read my introductory chapter on Nixon's early life. James Pat-
terson reviewed my work on the Taft-Hartley Act. Barton Bernstein and
Athan Theoharis looked at my chapters on the Alger Hiss-Whittaker
Chambers case. Richard Challener shared the results of his research on
John Foster Dulles, Dwight Eisenhower, Alger Hiss, and Richard
Nixon.
Chapman University, through the setting that Drs. James and Lynne
Doti have established, has provided an ideal place in which to do my
work. Leland Estes, chairman of the social sciences division, and Robert
Slayton, chairman of the history department, fine scholars in their own
fields, have provided continual encouragement. Stephen and Michelle
Christensen add to this kind atmosphere with their own brand of aid and
comfort. Raymond Sfeir interpreted the value of the Consumer Price
Index for me. Gina Wilkenson, who handles interlibrary loan requests,
has been marvelous.
The Free Press has demanded nothing less than excellence from me
and themselves. Bruce Nichols, senior editor, has given me the best that
he has to offer; that essence is mirrored in his superb assistant Dan Freed-
berg. Ann Adelman has copyedited this manuscript with an eye toward
anything that would detract from its smooth flow. David Frost, coordi-
nator of everything that gets the manuscript ready for printing, has been
a delight. Elizabeth McNamara could not have been more helpful in
providing legal counsel. Yet, above all, Bruce has provided the leader-
ship. Sometimes bluntly but with only the best of intentions, he has in-
sisted that I be better than I thought that I could be. For that raised
standard, I am grateful.

xviii
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

While I was researching this work, a negligent driver totaled my au-

tomobile. Alan Beyer, my orthopedic surgeon, took care of some of my
problems, but my greatest concern was the damage caused to my hands.
Dr. Nicholas Rose has worked with me since the winter of 1997. I still
have pain, sometimes severe, but he has tried to prescribe medication
and treatment that do not interfere with my work. Being doped up does
not lend itself to scholarly pursuits. His willingness to cooperate with my
compulsive need to write and the treatment at Pro Sport physical ther-
apy, especially Joelle Shoemaker, Joe Donohue, and the rest of the staff,
have made the pain almost bearable.
Finally, but not lastly—in fact, initially—my wife Gloria Gae origi-
nated the idea of focusing my energies on this project. While, at first, I
resisted, I now realize how right she was. For this and the rest of all that
she does for me, I am truly blessed and eternally thankful. She is a trea-
sure.

xix
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Preface

W riting this book was not my idea, though I now wish it were.
After having completed three volumes dealing with the adminis-
tration of Franklin Roosevelt, I had planned to commence a fourth one
on Americas reaction to the Holocaust, a subject that has deeply dis-
turbed me for years. I had already started collecting data on it, yet my
wife, Gloria Gae, had continually nudged me to visit the nearby Richard
Nixon Library & Birthplace since its opening in the early 1990s. Quite
frankly, I saw no need. I was not planning to write anything on the thirty-
seventh president of the United States. I was content in my comfortable
niche.
Gloria refused to surrender; so I naturally did. One afternoon in
early 1995, we traveled, with me grumbling all the way to Yorba Linda,
about a half-hour drive from our house. We had a pleasant lunch on the
lovely grounds of the library, and after my wife softened me up with
food, she suggested that we visit the library's archives. That is one item
on an historian's agenda that will just about always spark a positive re-
sponse. We went downstairs, where Susan Naulty, guardian of every sin-
gle piece of paper, photograph, recording, and any additional document
floating in the ether, cordially greeted us. Before I could even mutter a
word, Gloria asked for a tour of the archives, and Susan promptly and
professionally agreed. Once she outlined the library's holdings, I was
hooked. The amount of documentation there that other scholars had
not seen was staggering.
From that day until the present, I have regularly driven to the library
to use the materials housed there. After almost four years of study, I am
convinced that this collection, when combined with key Nixon material

1
 PREFACE

in the National Archives, will be the finest collection for an American

politician from the end of World War II to almost the close of the twen-
tieth century. It graphically illustrates the domestic shift from New Deal
politics to the right of center; it describes the gradual movement toward
bipartisanship in foreign affairs; and it offers the best view on one of the
most painful periods of American history, one that almost irreparably
fractured the political process.
I have been fortunate in being able to examine every catalogued
item in the library's collection covering Nixon's congressional career. I
have supplemented them with trips to dozens of other repositories, cited
in the source notes at the end of this book. Most important has been the
National Archives in Laguna Niguel, where many Nixon congressional
and senatorial files that had remained marked "Confidential" were
cleared for my examination and have added an enormous richness to this
period.
Nixon left the most impressive chronicle of any Republican con-
gressman during the early years of the Cold War, but much of this
record has been unexplored until now. I came to this project without any
special expectations. In fact, until this volume, I have concentrated on
the foreign policies of Franklin Roosevelt. Although I lean toward the
Republican viewpoint in my voting habits, my historical research is not
affected by my personal persuasion.
What I discovered after four extensive years of research and writing
was a Nixon who almost always contradicted previous biographies.
Nearly every stage of his early congressional career has been distorted.
This does not infer that he was a saint. One incident during a 1952 con-
gressional primary campaign was particularly troublesome, revealing that
Nixon had a major lapse of judgment. But neither was he an outrageous
Red-baiter, nor a crooked fund-raiser, nor a smarmy politician who
smeared his opponents. His victories over Jerry Voorhis and Helen Ga-
hagan Douglas were hard fought and deeply emotional, primarily due to
the divisive issues raised during that era. His relationships to Earl Warren
and William Knowland have been widely distorted; this especially ap-
plies to the circumstances of the trio's actions leading up to and includ-
ing the 1952 Republican National Convention.
This work hopefully will correct the existing factual record and not
be viewed as a partisan attack or psychological interpretation. Readers
can draw their own conclusions about why and what Nixon did or did

2
 PREFACE

not do, but first they must understand exactly how he acted. I have sup-
plied the perspiration; my wife has regularly given me inspiration; and
friends have freely offered encouragement. No one close or related to
Nixon has offered or contributed any advice or financial assistance.
I alone am responsible for any errors in fact or interpretation.

3
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 3. Fresh as Paint!

Billy Ellis and Buzzy Hancock dashed up the driveway to the porch
of the Craigs’ farmhouse. Tommy was sitting on the porch swing
jotting down figures in his account book when his pals joined him.
They jumped up on the porch, and Billy cuffed Buzzy playfully as
they sat down on the swing.
“Hey, take it easy, you guys,” Tommy said. “I’m trying to add up
my accounts. I want to give Jack an exact report of how much
money we made while he was gone.”
Billy stretched his long legs out in front of him. His voice, which
wavered between soprano and baritone, was full of sympathy as he
said, “Jeepers, what a break! The poor little guy’s going to miss all
the fun this summer.”
Tommy looked at his two closest pals. Billy, Judge Ellis’s son and
Aunt Becky’s stepson, was a few months younger than he. Ever
since the Craigs had come to Elmhurst, both Billy and Sally
Hancock’s young brother, Buzzy, had been involved in every project
Tommy and Jack had undertaken.
He shut his book. Stretching lazily, he said, “I guess it’s up to us to
see he has as much fun as possible. It’s a real tough break for the
ball team, though. I don’t know where we’re going to get a good
shortstop now that Jack’s out for the season.”
“Can we see him soon?” Buzzy asked.
Tommy shook his head. “Mom says no company for a while. He’s
coming home this afternoon, but you guys can’t see him for some
time.”
Billy sighed. “Seems to me there isn’t any use in being sick. It isn’t
any fun no matter which way you look at it. What’s the guy going to
do with his time?”
“Oh, read, I guess. And study. He’s going to have a tutor, Mom
said,” Tommy answered.
 Buzzy whistled. “You mean he’s gotta have school work? Jeepers!
That’s terrible!”
Tommy shrugged. “It would be worse if he had to stay back a
term in school.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Buzzy said thoughtfully. “But about what we
guys can do. You think about it, Tommy. Let us know, won’t you?”
Tommy stood up. “Will do,” he said. “And listen, you guys, one
more thing. Mom said those letters you wrote were just about the
nicest things you could have done for him. Keep it up, will you?”
Doris came out to the porch. “Tommy, have you seen Mother?”
she asked.
“Sure. Mom’s upstairs getting ready to go over to get Jack. What’s
up?”
“Where’s Dad?”
Tommy stared at her. “At the office, of course. Where else?”
Doris giggled at herself. “I guess I got so used to having Dad
around the house that I forgot he does go to work regularly now.”
She pulled a letter from her pocket. “It’s from Kit,” she told him.
“From Kit? Hey, let’s see it!” Tommy cried.
Doris put it back in her pocket. “It’s to Mother and Dad,” she said
severely.
Tommy shrugged. “Come on, gang,” he cried. “Let’s get some
cookies.”
The boys disappeared into the kitchen, and Doris went upstairs.
“Mother!” she called. “Letter from Kit!”
Mrs. Craig was putting on her hat when Doris came into her room.
She smiled at her daughter and held out her hand. “Good news, I
hope,” she smiled, taking the envelope.
“Kit’s news is always good,” Doris said. “College seems to agree
with her.”
Mrs. Craig hastily scanned the note, nodding and then frowning as
she read. “Kit has spring fever,” she decided as she folded the letter
and slipped it back into the envelope. “Claims she’s bored with life.”
She smiled to herself. “But after her trip to Washington, I think she’ll
feel better.”
“What trip to Washington?” Doris asked.
Mrs. Craig grinned at the thought. “Kit has been elected president
of the Hope College Historical Society, you know, dear. There’s a
large history convention in Washington after classes let out in June.
There will be girls and boys from all over the country.”
Doris grinned. “And of course there will be Frank Howard in
Washington.”
Mrs. Craig sighed. “I think that’s what’s wrong with Kit. I think she
misses Frank more than she will admit.”
Doris sat down on her mother’s bed. “Do you think Kit will marry
Frank, Mother?”
“Good heavens!” Mrs. Craig exclaimed. “How should I know? They
are very close friends ... and they have been for several years.”
“Ever since Kit caught Frank in the berry patches,” Doris giggled. It
was typical of Kit that she should have trapped the bright young
entomologist in an effort to catch a berry thief. A bantering
friendship had grown out of this episode, and lately there had been
sure signs that the friendship between Kit and Frank was ripening
into affection.
Mrs. Craig powdered her nose. “Do you want to ride with me to
the hospital, Doris?”
“Yes, I’d like to,” Doris said. “I want to talk to you about
something, anyway.”
On the way over to the clinic, Doris said, “There’s a sort of contest
at school, Mother. A music contest.”
Mrs. Craig smiled. “That’s nice, dear,” she said. “Are you going to
enter it?”
Doris frowned slightly. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.
It’s for a scholarship to a music school. I don’t know whether I want
to try for it or not.”
Mrs. Craig stared at her. “But good heavens, why not? What
school is it?”
 “Timothy College in North Carolina. It’s very small—all music, you
know. It’s awfully far away, too. And with Jean getting married and
Kit away at school, well, I don’t know whether I want to leave home
or not.”
Mrs. Craig slowed down the car. “Let’s talk about this with your
father. But, dear, I think you should at least try out. It would be a
shame to let your talent go to waste.”
Doris hesitated. Then she said, “But Mother, I don’t want to go
away! I’m not like Jean and Kit. I’d just like to stay right here in
Elmhurst forever and ever. I like it at home.”
Mrs. Craig tapped the steering wheel with her fingers. “Doris, I
want you to enter that contest. Why shouldn’t you have the right to
go away to school? We were able to send Jean to New York for a
year of Art School,” she said, referring to Jean’s experiences which
are recounted in Jean Craig in New York. “Then Kit won herself the
chance to go to Hope College. Now, it’s your turn.”
“But Mother....” Doris began.
Mrs. Craig shook her head. “I don’t know very much about art or
music, my dear,” she interrupted, “but your father and I have always
felt that you were extremely talented. Frankly, I’ve always felt that
you were the most talented of all my daughters. Jean is a good
artist. Competent, I think she calls herself. But she has no illusions
about being a great artist. I think perhaps you have the ability to
develop into a fine musician.”
Doris shook her head. “Oh, golly,” she said, “I just don’t want to
go through what Jean and Kit have gone through.”
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Craig asked, surprised.
“You know. You get yourself all ready to do something important
in this life, and then you fall in love with some man and want to get
married. Look how mixed up Jean was. And look at Kit now. She’s
going to college and has even talked about doing graduate work. But
you and I know she’s mad about Frank Howard and that she’ll
probably just get married.”
Mrs. Craig repressed a smile. “Darling, you don’t just get married,”
she said gently. “Both Jean and Kit are much better prepared to
become good wives because they did develop their talents. I think
you should do the same.”
Doris sighed. “Maybe so,” she agreed. “Oh, golly! I’m selfish! I
know you’re worrying about Jack and his homecoming. It’ll be so
good to have him home again!”
Jack was waiting when they arrived at the hospital. Jean and Sally
Hancock were in his room gathering his few belongings. Mrs. Craig
shook her head as she saw the thin, pale boy lying on the bed. His
black eyes seemed even larger than usual, but they were no longer
dull and glassy. They sparkled when they saw Mrs. Craig.
“Oh, Mother!” he cried. “I thought you’d never get here! Golly, but
I’m tired of this room. Not that they haven’t been swell here,
though. Dr. Jenkins and Dr. Caulfield from Boston have been here
almost all the time. They talked a lot to me.”
“That’s fine, dear,” Mrs. Craig said briskly.
“But, gee, I sure missed Tommy. And the hens. Tommy doesn’t
know how to keep track of all those hens. I ... I don’t know what
he’s gonna do, now that I can’t help him.”
Jean patted Jack’s shoulder. “You’re learning young that no man is
indispensable to his business.”
He looked up at her. “Huh?” he said.
They all laughed. “Jean means that business has to go on no
matter what happens,” Mrs. Craig said, smiling. “And it usually does.
Billy Ellis and Buzzy Hancock were over this morning. They want to
see you as soon as you can have company.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jack said. “They wrote me. Jeepers, what a swell
gang they are! Those dumb letters! They made me laugh till I hurt!”
Ted Loring brought in a wheel chair. “Here’s your chair, my lord,”
he called from the doorway. “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Craig. You’re
looking fine this morning. I’m going to ride over with you and help
get our patient back to bed, if that’s all right with you.”
Mrs. Craig smiled. “That’s very thoughtful, Ted. Mr. Craig is in town
this morning, and we could use a strong back.”
Ted grinned. “I heard about Mr. Craig’s new position. I think it’s
swell. We need an architect around this town, although I sort of like
these old New England designs.”
Mrs. Craig smiled. “He’s glad to be back at work, too.”
“I found out about it from Dr. Daley,” Ted explained. “I guess you
know he kept a pretty close eye on Mr. Craig while he was working
on the veterans’ houses. A nervous breakdown is nothing to fool
around with. But Dr. Daley seems to think he’s now in fine shape.”
Jean tucked a robe around Jack’s legs as they started out of the
room. “Take good care of him, Mother,” she said. “I’ll be home for
dinner tonight, you know.”
Jean watched the small procession move slowly down the hall.
Then she pulled her sketchbook from her pocket and began
thumbing through it.
“Hi, gorgeous!”
Jean turned around to see Gerald Benson, the new intern, coming
down the hall. “Oh, good morning, Dr. Benson,” she said. She started
to pass him, but he blocked her path.
“I’ve just been having a lecture on the glories of one Miss Jean
Craig,” Dr. Benson said. “They sure go for you around here.”
Jean stared at him in surprise. “Whatever are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “I was ambling through the lobby with Dr. Barsch
this noon and just happened to comment on the painting over the
mantel down there. And the good doctor ups and tells me that you
did it!”
Jean giggled. “I’m afraid I did,” she admitted. “It’s not so glorious,
though,” she added.
“It’s good enough. I didn’t know you were an artist.”
Jean smiled. “I’m not. Not really. I studied for a year in New York.
And I like to paint for pleasure. As a matter of fact, I’m hoping to do
something with my art work combined with medicine.”
Dr. Benson whistled. “You mean surgical art? That’s a tough field.”
Jean grinned. “I know it is. But Dr. Barsch has encouraged me to
try my hand at it. I guess starting just about any time now, he’s
going to give me practice sketching operations here. As a matter of
fact, I was just going through my sketchbook. I’m working on
anatomical drawings from books now so I’ll be better at doing real
life sketches.”
Dr. Benson put his hands on his hips. “Did you donate that
painting to the clinic as your contribution?”
Jean smiled again. “Well, not exactly,” she admitted. “You see,
when the hospital first opened, Ted Loring and I had a long talk
about clinics and things. And he gave me the idea, sort of. He said a
clinic was a place where people exercised cooperation, ingenuity and
hard work. So I put the idea down on canvas. You know, the man
and woman and child joining hands in a field of grain. And then, of
all things, Dr. Loring swiped it! He donated it!”
Dr. Benson smiled wryly. “It sounds like a motto he might make
up.”
“What’s the matter with it?” Jean demanded.
“Let’s go out tonight, and I’ll tell you,” Dr. Benson said.
She smiled at him. “I’m sorry, Dr. Benson, but I can’t.”
“But you’re off tonight. I saw the schedules.”
Jean smiled. “But I thought you knew. I’m engaged. I’m not free
to accept dates. I’m sure one of the other girls....”
“You mean you’re turning me down just because you’ve got a
ring? I hear your man is in Europe. That’s pretty far away. And a
pretty little girl like you shouldn’t be sitting home nights, just
because—”
Jean brushed past him. “I’m sorry,” she said shortly.
Dr. Benson grabbed her arm. “Now wait, honey. Don’t get sore. I
mean, what’s the harm? I’m not asking you to break your
engagement. I just wanted to have some fun. You look as if you
could use some yourself.”
Jean pulled free. “I’m sorry, Dr. Benson,” she said stiffly. “I’m very
busy just now.”
The intern watched her walk down the hall. “Okay, sweetheart,” he
said, “I’ll try again sometime. You’ll get lonely before too long.”
Jean marched into the students’ lounge and slammed the door
behind her. Eileen Gordon was lying on the couch reading a
magazine. She looked up as Jean came in.
“Why, Jean, what’s the matter?” she asked, looking at Jean’s angry
face. “Didn’t Jack get off all right?” Eileen sat up and closed her
magazine.
Jean sat down in an easy chair. “Oh, yes. Mother came for him
just now. Ted was sweet. He went home with them to help her get
Jack settled in bed at home.”
“Well, then, what’s wrong?” Eileen asked.
“Oh, nothing really, I guess. Only that new Dr. Benson asked me
for a date.”
Eileen sniffed. “Oh, is that all?” she asked. “Well, don’t worry
about it. He won’t ask you again.”
Jean stared at her. “Why?” she asked.
Eileen shrugged. “He asked me for a date when he first came
here. I was busy and told him so, and he hasn’t bothered me since.”
Jean shook her head. “It’s the principle of the thing,” she said.
“Maybe he didn’t know you’re engaged.”
“He knew, all right. He knew that Ralph is abroad, too. He said I
might be lonely.”
Eileen scowled. “So that’s the way he is! Well, that settles Dr.
Benson as far as I’m concerned. So he’d try to steal someone’s girl
when the someone isn’t around to fight for her.”
Jean laughed as she opened a coke. “Don’t be too hard on him.
He wasn’t exactly trying to steal me. He just asked to take me out.”
Eileen grimaced. “I know the type. You know, Jean, I’ve been
around hospitals a long time. And I’ve known a lot of doctors. They
aren’t all like Ted and Dr. Barsch and the rest of them here.
Sometimes they get pretty cynical. Yep, I know Dr. Benson’s type, all
right!”
 4. Emergency Operation

The following night Jean was on duty. She had just come up from
early supper when she was called into Dr. Barsch’s office.
“Miss Craig,” Dr. Barsch said briskly, “I haven’t much time to
explain, but if you will get your sketch pad, I want you to try to do a
drawing of an operation I’m about to perform. The little DuPrez boy
is coming in immediately. Acute appendicitis. Loring says we can’t
wait. I’ve already called the staff.”
Jean gasped. “You mean, you want me to go right in there and do
a drawing?” she asked.
Dr. Barsch nodded. “You can’t learn surgical art any better way. I
don’t expect to be able to use your sketch, but I want you to have
the practice.”
“Then you won’t use me to assist you?” she asked.
Dr. Barsch frowned impatiently. “Naturally not. Now, please hurry.
Get your materials, and I’ll see you upstairs.”
Jean hurried to her room and snatched up her sketch pad and
pencils. She ran down the hall towards the operating room and went
into the small lavatory to scrub. Two women were scouring the
room, and Helen Pierce was sterilizing instruments. When Jean had
finished scrubbing, Helen helped her with her gloves and mask.
“This is a real emergency,” Helen muttered as she checked her
instruments. “They always wait till the last minute before they call
the doctor.”
“Will it be a dangerous operation?” Jean asked.
Helen shrugged. “That depends. Usually an appendectomy is a
snap. That is, easy for the patient. But it can be ticklish if the
appendix is ready to break open.”
Dr. Barsch and Ted came in to scrub up. The girls worked in
silence, and the only sound was that of the rushing water in the
lavatory. Dr. Henry, the anesthetician, bustled in and, after
scrubbing, came over to the sterilizer and peeked in.
“I can’t use ether, Miss Pierce,” he said. “You should know that.”
He grunted. “And if we could use a complete anesthetic, I’d choose
sodium pentothal. But this will have to be a local block. The child
undoubtedly has eaten today.”
Helen nodded and went over to the cabinet. Carefully she selected
an injection syringe with her tongs and dropped it into the sterilizer.
Dr. Henry checked his supply of anesthetic, nodded, and rubbed his
gloved hands together briskly.
Jean frowned. “Why can’t you use ether, Dr. Henry?” she asked.
The portly, middle-aged anesthetician turned around to face her.
“Some people get very sick when we put them out. Particles of food
or liquid are apt to catch in their lungs. They haven’t the control of
their reflexes that people who are awake do. There’s always the
danger of a patient choking to death.”
“Then the child will be conscious?” Jean asked. “He’ll know what’s
going on? I know we’ve used that frequently for adults, but won’t it
be difficult with a child?”
Ted laughed. “He won’t know much. We already have him so
groggy with sedatives that he doesn’t know what’s going on.”
Dr. Barsch frowned impatiently. “What’s keeping them? Every
minute we lose gives us less of a chance.”
As he spoke, the small patient was wheeled into the operating
room. Jean’s heart went out to the tiny, white figure lying on the
table. His eyes were dulled, and his body was partially relaxed. But
his face was a study in fear.
Dr. Barsch stepped over to the table. “All right, son,” he said
gently. “I’m going to put a curtain right over your middle. You know
what you’re going to feel?”
Gene DuPrez shook his head, and he gazed pleadingly at Dr.
Barsch.
“Ever been to the dentist?”
The boy nodded.
 “And did he poke a needle into your gum so it wouldn’t hurt when
he drilled into your tooth?” Dr. Barsch asked.
Gene nodded solemnly. Sally, who had come in with the boy, and
Helen turned him over on his side and bent his legs up to meet his
chest.
“Well, we’re going to do the same thing now. We’re only going to
hurt you enough to make you say, ‘ouch’.”
Gene interrupted Dr. Barsch by saying, “Ouch!”
“That’s it, Gene,” Dr. Barsch said. “You’re going to feel something
else, now. Your toes will get all numb. Then your legs, and then your
tummy. Now, I have a feather, and I’m going to tickle your tummy.
You tell me when you can’t feel it any longer.”
Sally drew the curtain across the boy’s abdomen so that he
couldn’t see below his chest. Then she took her station by Gene’s
head. Smiling down at him, she tousled his hair. “Feel kind of sleepy,
don’t you?” she asked.
“It still tickles,” Gene murmured.
On the other side of the curtain, Dr. Barsch had made the incision.
He smiled and silently gave thanks for the anesthetic which made a
deep abdominal wound feel like a tickle. But his smile disappeared
when he reached the appendix.
“Oh, brother!” Ted said, shaking his head. Jean glanced at the
open wound and began to sketch rapidly.
“Here’s one we caught just in time,” Dr. Barsch sighed. He spoke
so low that Gene couldn’t hear him. “Look at that appendix. I’ll be
lucky if I can get it out without breaking it. When, in heaven’s name,
did you first see this boy?” he asked Ted.
Ted bit his lip. “Ten minutes before we came over. I didn’t even
stop to do a blood count on him. Let’s not talk about it. I get cold
shivers up and down my back when I think of how close his mother
came to giving him something for his stomach ache instead of calling
a doctor.”
Jean shuddered at the thought.
“It still tickles, doctor,” Gene said in a piping voice. “I’ll tell you
when it stops.”
 Jean grinned as she bent over her sketch.
“Something just stopped her,” Ted continued. “She called me
instead. A hunch, she said.”
“God loves His small creatures,” Dr. Barsch replied. “All right, here
we go.” He lifted the swollen appendix from the wound with great
care. With a sigh of relief, he placed it carefully in a receptacle on
the table. The distended organ broke as he laid it down.
“Ye Gods!” Ted said, turning white. “That’s the closest one I’ve
ever seen!”
Dr. Barsch grinned as he started to sew up the incision. “It’s all
over now, doctor. Gene, does it still tickle?”
“A little bit,” the boy answered. “Not much.”
“Good boy!” Dr. Barsch said. He finished his sewing and nodded.
“What about now?”
“I don’t feel anything now,” Gene admitted. “You going to cut into
my stomach now?” his face became tense with fear. Sally rubbed his
forehead and grinned.
“Too bad, Gene,” she said. “You missed the show.”
Gene stared up at her. “What?” he asked.
Dr. Barsch dressed the wound and pulled the curtain aside. “How
do you feel?” he asked.
“I’m ... I’m a little scared,” Gene admitted.
Dr. Barsch laughed. “We just played a dirty trick on you, son. Your
operation’s all over.”
Sally gave the patient an injection, and he relaxed again.
“You’re going to sleep for a while now. And when you wake up,
you’ll be back in your room with a sore tummy.”
Gene relaxed and slipped off to sleep as Sally and Helen wheeled
him down the corridor.
Dr. Barsch slipped off his gloves and glanced at the broken
appendix. He shook his head. “Get that to the lab right away,” he
said. “Miss Hancock can take it down when she gets back. Miss
Craig, you come on down to my office with me. I want to take a look
at that sketch.”
 When they reached Dr. Barsch’s office, Jean laid her sketch pad on
the desk for Dr. Barsch to see. He picked it up and nodded.
“Sit down, Miss Craig. Dr. Loring will be down in a minute. I want
him to have a look at this, too. Then we’ll get some coffee. I could
use some.”
Jean smiled. “I’ll go down to the kitchen and get some while we’re
waiting,” she offered. “You must be tired.”
Dr. Barsch waved his hand. “Sit down. The coffee can wait.” He
tapped the sketch with his forefinger and looked at it thoughtfully for
a moment. Then he searched among the papers on his desk for a
letter. Finding it, he nodded his head as he read it over.
“I think maybe we’ve found a way to put your talents to practical
use, Miss Craig,” he said slowly.
Jean jumped up. “Really?” she cried. “But how? I mean, I’m so far
from ready to do anything useful with my art. Surgical art is such a
specialized and highly skilled profession!”
The doctor nodded gravely. “Yes, it most certainly is,” he said
thoughtfully. “And of course the sketch you did for us just now is still
rather amateurish. But I was right about you, I think. It shows a
great deal of promise.”
Jean grinned with pleasure. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said.
Dr. Barsch picked up the letter again. “I’ve been in touch with a
medical publisher about you. You see, whenever they hear of a
promising young artist who knows something about medicine, they
leap at the chance to sign him—or her—up. It doesn’t happen often.
Not often enough, that an artist is also interested in medicine.”
Jean clasped her hands together. “You mean, some publisher
wants me to do drawings for him?”
Dr. Barsch laughed. “Not so fast, young lady. No, their offer isn’t
quite that spectacular.” He rubbed his hands together. “But in a
sense, I suppose maybe the offer is in its way more spectacular. You
see, they want you to take more art courses.”
“But ...” Jean began.
The doctor held up his hand. “Wait till I finish,” he said. “I think it
can all be figured out quite simply. You will finish your nurse’s
training this summer. And then, as I understand it, you are thinking
about being married.”
Jean hesitated. “Of course no definite date has been set yet.”
Dr. Barsch stroked his chin. “Well, let’s assume that the wedding
will take place soon after your graduation. When you reach
Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, you can begin a correspondence course
in art, can’t you?”
Jean grinned. “I had sort of planned to continue studying art after
Ralph and I were married.” She looked down. “You see, I don’t want
to forget my skills just because I’m being married.”
The doctor grinned. “Fine! Fine!” he said. “Then my little plan can
be worked. This publishing company is prepared to award you a sort
of scholarship so that you can take the course. In return, you will
have to make arrangements with a hospital near your home in
Saskatchewan to attend their operations and do sketching for the
company when you have completed the course.”
Jean thought a moment. “There is a small hospital near Ralph’s
ranch,” she said. “Ralph has told me about it. Certainly I could make
arrangements with them to sketch at their operations.”
Dr. Barsch nodded. “Of course I’ll help you arrange things. I think
maybe if they realize you’re a student of mine, there won’t be much
trouble with the details.”
“Someone open the door,” Ted called from outside. “I’ve got coffee
for everyone.”
Jean went over to the door. Ted brought in the tray and set it on
the desk.
“You should have let me get it,” Jean cried.
Ted smiled. “Division of labor, my child. Dr. Barsch operates, you
sketch and I just stand around. So I’m elected coffee boy.”
“Take a look at Miss Craig’s sketch, Loring,” Dr. Barsch said,
handing him the pad. “I think it’s pretty fair.”
“That’s high praise, coming from you,” Ted laughed. He looked at
it carefully. “Uh huh,” he said, nodding. “It looks swell. Jeannie, you
could make a career out of doing this.”
 Jean laughed. “Dr. Barsch and I have just been discussing that.”
“But of course you’re off to the altar, and there’s the end of a
beautiful career,” Ted said dolefully.
“Oh, no!” Jean cried.
Dr. Barsch smiled slyly. “Sounds to me as if you are against
marriage, Dr. Loring. I suppose Miss Simpson realizes this?”
Ted blushed. “Oh, marriage is all right,” he protested.
Dr. Barsch lit his pipe. “Marriage is all right. Hm,” he said playfully.
“I’ve a notion to tell Miss Simpson how enthusiastic you are about
the institution of wedlock. You and your city ways! Moon and
pussyfoot around and steal the best doggoned Supervisor of Nurses
I ever had! All right, indeed!”
Ted shifted painfully. “Oh, I’m very much in favor of marriage,
doctor....”
“That’s good to hear,” Dr. Barsch said.
“It’s just that Jean draws so well....”
“And Miss Simpson makes such a good Supervisor,” Dr. Barsch
added.
Ted squirmed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You can’t have her back!” He
looked at Jean’s and Dr. Barsch’s faces. They were grinning.
“Dr. Barsch, you shouldn’t tease him so,” Jean said lightly. “Isn’t it
all right to tell him about the plan?”
Dr. Barsch puffed at his pipe. “Of course, my dear.”
Breathlessly, Jean repeated Dr. Barsch’s plans for her to Ted. The
young doctor nodded and clapped his hands together in agreement.
“Marvelous idea, Jeannie,” he said. “I think Ralph will like the idea,
too.”
 5. April Wedding

Ethel’s and Ted’s wedding was scheduled for April eighteenth. The
first two weeks of the month were dreary and rainy. The skies above
Elmhurst were constantly gray, and the countryside looked bleak and
unpromising after the long winter. Tempers were short at the clinic.
The season of spring colds was on, and Jean felt a great depression
as she tended her duties as an upperclass nurse. Because of the
shortage of graduate nurses at the hospital, Jean and her classmates
were used almost as regular nurses. Jean had to attend courses in
chemistry, biology and dietetics along with her regular duties, and as
the spring term got under way, she was now in charge of the
pediatric ward.
A whole procession of youngsters flooded both the doctors’ offices
and the hospital wards. And Jean’s days were full of bathing
youngsters, trying to put dosages of penicillin and sulpha into
unwilling small mouths, taking temperatures and pulses of the
squirming children. She tried to study at night after writing her daily
letter to Ralph, but often she would steal back into the ward to hold
the hand of a tiny, miserable patient lonely for his mother. Jean
found solace in the quiet ward at night. The children were calmer,
there were no adults about, and she couldn’t see the dreadful,
gloomy sky.
Ordinarily, Jean would have welcomed the chance to work so
closely with Ted, whose capacity as pediatrician kept him closely in
touch with the ward. But Ted was cross and nervous. For hours at a
time, he swabbed throats and sprayed sniffly noses and tried to
reason with mothers weary of the winter and of housefuls of pent-up
children.
The radio forecasts were always the same: showers.
“April showers,” Jean remarked one day bitterly as she gazed up at
the sky which was sending down its interminable drizzly rain. “If
these are showers, let me know when one stops and the next one
starts, someone!”
Only Ethel and Jack seemed to retain their high spirits. Ethel was
too excited about her wedding even to notice the weather. And Jack,
bedridden already a month, had drawn from some inner source a
courage and even temper which amazed everyone around him.
Although Jack knew that he would be in bed for many months, he
never seemed to be depressed. He made a full life for himself within
his tiny room. Although he wasn’t allowed many visitors, he soon fell
into a routine which occupied his mind, but which didn’t excite him
too much.
But just when everyone decided that it would never stop raining,
the sun came out. The sky was blue with fluffy white clouds, and
spring had come to Elmhurst. Trees which had been barren two
weeks before were now covered with soft green buds. The whole
countryside softened with new-growing greenery. The river ran with
vigorous energy to carry its extra burden to the ocean, and the air
smelled clean, as if the heavens had spent two energetic weeks in
spring housecleaning.
The day of Ethel’s wedding was cool and clear. The ceremony was
to be held in the Craigs’ parlor, and the whole family was busy
making final preparations.
Doris was singing “Brightly Dawns Our Wedding Day” from the
Mikado as she dusted the living room furniture for the third time.
Jean arranged the wedding presents on the dining room table for
everyone to see. She sighed gently as she laid out the sterling silver
which Mrs. Loring had given her son and daughter-to-be. And she
smiled in satisfied anticipation as she arranged the kitchen
equipment which had been the contribution of the nurses at the
shower. She handled the linens and china with loving care.
Mrs. Craig ran downstairs and popped her head into the dining
room.
“Time to get dressed, dear. I want you to be ready so you can
help me with the bride. Oh, dear,” she sighed, “where is that girl?”
 “Ethel?” Jean asked. “I suppose she’s still at the hospital. If I know
Ethel, she’s probably making a long list of instructions to leave
behind her.” She sighed. “Oh, Mother,” she cried, “all these lovely
things! And you should see that terrible little apartment they’re
going to have to put them in! Darn it, anyhow! Why couldn’t Ted
have been a veteran? Then he could have one of the houses Dad
designed for the veterans’ project. Now, where on earth will they put
all these things in that stuffy little place?”
Mrs. Craig smiled knowingly. “Never mind, dear. Ethel can store
things here if she wants to, till she has a better place. Now hurry,
Jean. With everyone dressing here, we have to hustle.”
Jean obediently went upstairs. Mrs. Craig went in to send Doris up
to dress, muttering, “Ethel should have come to breakfast as I told
her to. She probably didn’t eat a thing.”
As she spoke, Ethel came in the front door. Mrs. Craig stretched
out both hands to her, and Ethel grabbed them. She attempted to
smile.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it for breakfast, Mrs. Craig,” she said.
“But there were just a few things I wanted to take care of at the
hospital before I left.”
Jean bent over the upstairs railing and called down, “What did I
tell you, Mother?”
Mrs. Craig smiled in despair. “Oh, child, this is your wedding day!
Now, let’s get you upstairs and into your finery.”
Suddenly Ethel burst into tears. Mrs. Craig put her arms around
her and drew her over to a chair.
“I ... I don’t want to get married,” Ethel cried. “I ... well, I just
don’t want to get married!”
Mrs. Craig smiled knowingly and patted the girl on the shoulder. “I
know, my dear. I know just how you feel....”
“They’re so short-handed over at the hospital. They can’t spare
any nurses,” Ethel sobbed. “I just can’t get married now! There are
too many things to do!”
Suddenly her eyes brightened. “Do you think Ted would
understand if we called the wedding off? I mean, just till I finish
everything that has to be done at the hospital?”
Mr. Craig came into the front hall together with Aunt Becky. He
stopped at the sight of Ethel’s tearful face and stared at her in alarm.
“Great heavens!” he exclaimed. “Tears on your wedding day?”
Becky elbowed him out of the way and came over to Ethel. “Oh,
run along with you, man,” she snapped at the bewildered Mr. Craig.
“There isn’t a girl alive who doesn’t get plumb nervous at the
thought of her wedding day!” She turned to Ethel. “Now, now, child,”
she said, “you just have a good cry, and....”
Mr. Craig interrupted Becky with a loud laugh. He threw back his
head and roared. “If you think you’re nervous, my girl,” he said, “you
should see Ted, now. When I stopped in to see him, his poor mother
was trying to help him dress. Ted was hopping around on one foot
like a scared chicken....”
Mrs. Craig touched her husband’s arm. “All right, dear,” she said,
“now run along and get yourself dressed.”
As Mr. Craig went upstairs, whistling, Ethel composed herself and
smiled at the two women.
“Poor Ted,” she grinned. “He’s so helpless. And of course he’s
scared! He needs someone to look after him.” She glanced at her
watch. “Good heavens!” she cried, “I’d better hurry and dress! Mrs.
Craig, where is my gown?”
Mrs. Craig smiled. “Your clothes are up in Jean’s room, dear. Doris
and Jean are waiting to help you. I’ll be up, myself, in a few
minutes.”
Ethel threw her arms around Mrs. Craig’s neck and hugged her.
“How can Ted and I ever thank you for what you are doing for us?”
“Humph!” Becky snorted. “Now, scat, girl. And Marge, you come
out with me to the kitchen. I want to unload my basket.” She shook
the overflowing basket of last-minute additions to the party food
which she was carrying.
Ethel nearly collided with Tommy on the stairway.
“Hi, beautiful,” Tommy said, grinning. “I hereby swear my eternal
devotion to you on your wedding day.”
 Ethel laughed. “You idiot! Whatever do you mean?”
Tommy shook his head. “Only for you. For you only, I say, would I
struggle into this!” And he waved a stiff collar under her nose. “That
is, outside of the immediate family.”
As Tommy reached the bottom of the stairs, still muttering about
his collar, the front door flew open, and Ted, followed by a distraught
Mrs. Loring, came dashing into the hall. Ted confronted Tommy, his
face twisted in wrath.
“Tommy, where’s your father?” he demanded.
Tommy stared at the bridegroom.
“Now, now, dear,” Ted’s mother clutched at his arm, “don’t upset
everyone, now. Calm yourself!”
Ted turned to face his mother. “But you know this means the
wedding’s off! How can a man get married when...?”
“Huh?” said Tommy.
“The apartment! The furniture! Gone! Everything’s gone! I’ve been
robbed! The apartment wasn’t much, but it was a place to live, and
Ethel and I picked out all our furniture and had it sent to that place.
Now it’s gone!”
Mrs. Loring took Ted’s hand. “Now listen, son,” she said, “there
must be an explanation. People don’t run off with a houseful of
furniture.”
Mr. Craig came downstairs.
“Well, hello, Mrs. Loring,” he said, shaking her hand. “And Ted. I’m
afraid I have to do the honors. The women are all upstairs dressing.”
Mrs. Loring smiled wryly. “Mr. Craig, forgive this ridiculous son of
mine. We would have come over at the proper time when everything
was ready. But Ted has some fool notion that he’s been robbed.”
Mr. Craig chuckled. “If Ted didn’t come crashing into a party, I
would know there was something wrong. Did he ever tell you about
the first time we met?”
Mrs. Loring smiled as if she knew her son’s habits. “I can imagine
the entrance he made was spectacular,” she said.
 Mr. Craig laughed at the memory. “It certainly was. We gave a
large barn dance to celebrate the building of the clinic. Dr. Gallup
was in the midst of introducing Dr. Barsch to the community when,
bang! The lights all went out. Seems as if Ted had come in and
tripped over the light cords.”
Mrs. Loring laughed despairingly. “Oh, Ted,” she sighed. “I’m afraid
you had a typical introduction to my son,” she said to Mr. Craig.
“Mother!” Ted cried, “how can you stand around swapping tales
with Mr. Craig when I’ve been robbed?”
Mr. Craig looked at Ted gravely. “Suppose you start from the
beginning and tell me the whole story.”
“Well, sir, I went over to see the apartment this morning to check
on last minute details, you know. The landlady told me that she
didn’t have an apartment for me! I told her that was ridiculous and
that I’d already paid my first month’s rent and that I had a whole
apartment full of furniture moved in not two days ago. She showed
me the apartment and there wasn’t a stick of it ... there wasn’t
anything in it! Then she handed me back my money!” Ted’s face
became redder.
Mr. Craig began to chuckle. “How much rent did she want for
those three rooms?”
Ted glowered. “Sixty-five a month.”
“Sixty-five a month is a little high for children just setting up
housekeeping. I tell you what, Ted. There’s no point in upsetting
your wedding by keeping it from you any longer. You see, for forty-
five a month, you can have a regular house.”
Ted stared at Mr. Craig. “I don’t understand, sir,” he said.
Mr. Craig smiled. “Mrs. Craig and I went over to see your
apartment a week or so ago. Frankly, Mrs. Craig didn’t think much of
it. So we decided to move you out. It just happens I have a house
for rent. In the housing project that I designed. It’s been open for
four days, only, and they’re pretty nice little houses. The builders
gave me one as a sort of bonus, and I want to rent it, of course.
Perhaps it was presumptuous of me....”
 Ted gasped. “This ... this is a miracle. But it’s too much! We
couldn’t possibly accept it!”
Mr. Craig shook his head. “Mrs. Craig and I are very anxious to see
you two settled nicely. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Ethel.”
He handed Ted a set of keys. “Here you are, son. You’ll find your
furniture at this address.”
Mrs. Loring sat down. “I don’t know what to say, Mr. Craig,” she
murmured.
Ted sat down and stared at the keys in his hand. Mr. Craig patted
him on the shoulder and turned to his son. “Hey, Tommy,” he called.
“Come here, and I’ll fix your collar.”
Only the members of the Craig family even suspected that Ethel
had shed tears less than an hour before the ceremony. When she
came down the stairs on Dr. Barsch’s arm, she was the perfect
picture of a radiant bride. The wedding was held in the front parlor
with the family and hospital staff in attendance. It was a regular old-
fashioned wedding, and the fragrance of roses and lilacs filled the
parlor as the minister read the time-revered words. And from the
silent congregation came the sound of muffled sobs—not from the
happy Mrs. Craig, who beamed on the beautiful bride, nor from Mrs.
Loring, who smiled at her new daughter with contented pride, but
from Jean, who suddenly felt the tragic loneliness of a girl whose
beloved is many, many miles away.
 6. Dr. Benson Confesses

Ethel and Ted had gone on a short tour of New England for their
honeymoon. The routine of the hospital resumed, and Eileen Gordon
became official Supervisor of Nurses. Jean was amused at the
comparison of the two girls. For Eileen had taken over Ethel’s
classes, and Jean and the other girls soon realized that Eileen was
every bit as devoted to her profession as Ethel had been. Eileen was
a bit different from Ethel in that she was new at handling girls. But
there was no question about the fact that she knew her business.
And she was friendly and helpful, so the students became used to
her brusque manner in class and on the floor.
Jean, Sally, Hedda, Lucy Peckham and Ingeborg were all in
dietetics class when Eileen took over the class for the first time. The
new Supervisor was plainly nervous, and the students smiled
encouragingly at her as she opened the notebook which Ethel had
left for her.
Eileen toyed with a pencil as she scanned Ethel’s notes. “You all
know, or should know, by this time,” she said, “the importance of a
balanced diet.” She smiled at the class. “I’m rather hoping that one
of you will plan to specialize in dietetics, because we will be needing
a good one for our own kitchen. But we all have to know about diet
... in fact, every human being should know about it.” She stopped,
realizing that she was being too repetitious and long-winded.
“Let’s start with the three major groups of foods. Miss Peckham,
will you please name them?”
Lucy smiled and said, “The three major classifications of foods are
fats, carbohydrates and proteins.”
Eileen nodded. “And who can tell me what a calory is?”
The class groaned in mock despair. Counting calories was an
unpleasant job which some of them occasionally had to do.
“Something we could do without,” Sally said flippantly.
 Eileen laughed with the rest of the class. “As a woman, I agree
with you, Miss Hancock,” she said. “But as a nurse, I have to send
you to the foot of the class.” She looked about the classroom. “Miss
Craig, will you tell Miss Hancock what a calory is and why she
couldn’t possibly get along without it?”
Jean laughed. “A calory is a unit of heat ... or, in the case of food
which provides fuel, weight. And Sally would have to have calories or
give up eating altogether.”
Eileen nodded as the rest of the class tittered. “Can anyone name
foods which do not have calories?”
The class thought. Lucy raised her hand. “Coffee doesn’t have any
calories,” she said.
Eileen frowned a little and nodded. “Strictly speaking, I think you
can’t exactly call coffee a food. It’s actually a drug ... or, at least, its
main function is that of a drug.”
“How about salt?” Hedda asked.
“That’s right,” Eileen said. “But of course no pure minerals have
calories. The function of the mineral is not to provide body heat.”
She flipped a page. “Now let’s talk about diets and people. Can
someone name three special categories of people needing different
diets?”
Jean held up her hand. “Adults, children and expectant mothers.”
Eileen nodded. “Very good. Any more?”
Sally raised her hand. “Sick people have to have lots of different
diets, depending on what’s the matter with them. And an office
worker needs different food from the food needed by a laborer.”
Eileen hesitated. “You’re right about the first category, but don’t
forget that all people need the same basic foods, no matter what
they do.”
“All except Dr. Benson,” Lucy muttered under her breath. “He eats
people. He’s a wolf!”
Eileen caught part of Lucy’s remark and blushed fiery red. She
hesitated a moment and then decided to pass on to something else.
For the rest of the hour, the class discussed the essentials of a
balanced diet. And when Eileen dismissed them, the class adjourned
for a few minutes in the lounge before they returned to duty.
They all helped themselves to cokes from the machine in the
lounge and relaxed. Sally giggled as she opened her coke bottle.
“That was a lovely remark you made in class, Lucy,” she said. “Eileen
heard you, too.”
Lucy made a face. “I don’t care. She feels the same way we all
do.”
Jean looked questioningly at Lucy. “I didn’t know you knew Dr.
Benson that well.”
Sally giggled. “Haven’t you heard? Lucy had a date with the man
himself last night.”
“Really?” Jean asked.
Sally nodded. “Lucy and I made a bargain that the first one he
would ask yesterday to go out would date him. Just to see if his bark
was as bad as his bite. So he asked Lucy, and Lucy is forthwith ready
to make her report to the clan.”
Lucy took a drink of her coke. “It wasn’t bad at all,” she confessed.
“In fact, I would have been quite flattered by all the lovely words.
That is, I would have been if my name had been Jean.”
“What on earth are you talking about, Lucy?” Jean asked.
“Such a crush on you our Dr. Benson has! He talked on and on
about you till I almost got insulted.”
The door opened and Eileen came in. “Okay if I join you?” she
asked.
“Come on in,” Sally answered. “We’re having a time roasting Dr.
Benson. Lucy went out with him last night.”
“So that’s what was behind the remark you made in class,” Eileen
said. “Well, how was it?”
“We went to a movie,” Lucy continued. “Then the dear doctor
started to make a play for poor little me....”
“Oh, goodness, Lucy!” Eileen interrupted. “You aren’t actually
telling them all about your date!”
“She went out with him on a sort of a dare,” Sally explained.
 Eileen shook her head. “Even so,” she said, “it doesn’t seem right
to talk about it. It’s sort of unkind, don’t you think?”
Sally grinned. “He has it coming. You know perfectly well he’s
been chasing everyone in sight ever since he got here. The perfect
redhead, disposition and all.”
Jean shook her head. “I think Eileen’s right,” she said.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Sally cried. “Now all at once Dr. Benson is
perfectly okay, and we aren’t to betray his confidences.”
Eileen smiled. “He’s stupid in lots of ways. But he is a good doctor,
and he’s awfully young, after all. Maybe he’s never been away from
home before.”
Sally shrugged. “Well, if you feel so tenderly towards him, why
don’t you go out with him, yourself?”
Eileen chuckled. “Never! He’s not my type, in the first place.”
Jean laughed and put down her coke bottle. “I’m on duty, so I’d
better get back to work. I’m glad you had such a lovely time, Lucy.”
She stretched and yawned. “Well, so long, gang,” she said.
She hurried down the hall of the second floor to look at the call
sheet. Each day after lunch, the students were assigned to special
duties for the day, and Jean wanted to check on her assignment.
She frowned as she saw her name opposite that of Dr. Benson. Then
she grinned sheepishly and shrugged her shoulders. As long as he
was on duty, Dr. Benson would be professional and mannerly. Jean
determined that she would be as pleasant as she could be to the
young man.
Dr. Benson was making routine checks in the contagious ward
when Jean found him. He seemed very grave as he examined his
patients. Jean noted with satisfaction that he made very thorough
checks on each one. He didn’t even seem to notice Jean as he
worked. Quietly and efficiently she followed him from patient to
patient, making notes on each chart.
“Well, that’s that,” Dr. Benson finally said as he finished examining
his last patient. “Thanks, gorgeous.”
Jean smiled in spite of herself. “Anything else, Doctor?” she asked.
 Dr. Benson ran his fingers through his red hair. “I guess not. Not
now, anyway. But tell me something, beautiful? How did I make out
with Lucy last night?”
Jean blushed and looked up at him questioningly. “I don’t have
any idea,” she asked. “Why?”
Dr. Benson grinned wryly. Jean noticed that he had a dimple near
his mouth. “That’s not a straight answer, and you know it, Miss
Craig,” he said. “I know I was up for discussion today. Well, did you
all approve of my technique?”
Jean instantly felt a warm surge of feeling for the doctor. He was
actually pathetic. He sensed her reaction and waved his hand as if to
brush it off.
“Forget it,” he said brusquely. “My ears are still burning from a
dressing down I got this morning from Dr. Barsch. I’m still shaky on
making out reports. Well, we all have to learn....” His voice trailed
off, and he grinned. “What’s new with the boy friend, cutie?” he
asked.
“Ralph’s fine,” Jean answered. “He’ll be back next week.”
“I wonder if he knows what a lucky guy he is,” Dr. Benson said.
“To have a girl waiting for him ... you know, having someone he
cares for thinking so much of him. Oh well, skip it. This is just a bad
day.”
“I know how to make out reports,” Jean said. “Let me help you
with yours.”
Dr. Benson stared at her. “You want to help me after the way I’ve
acted towards you? The other nurses treat me as if I were poison!”
Dr. Barsch came down the hall. He smiled affectionately at Jean
and nodded to Dr. Benson.
“I’m sorry if I was a bit rough this morning, Doctor,” he said
gravely. “Sometimes I forget how complicated these reports can be
till one becomes used to them.”
Dr. Benson actually blushed. “It was my fault, sir,” he admitted,
“and I had it coming. Miss Craig has promised to help me with my
next batch.”