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Woody knew that Senator Wagner had proposed a law to punish sheriffs who permitted lynchings--but President Roosevelt had refused to back the bill.
Joanne was outraged. "How can you say that, Victor? Lynching is murder! We don't have to understand their problems, we have to stop them killing people!"
Woody was pleased to learn how much Joanne shared his political values. But clearly this was not a good time to ask her to dance, which was unfortunate.
"You don't get it, Joanne, honey," said Victor. "Those Southern Negroes are not really civilized."
I might be young and inexperienced, Woody thought, but I wouldn't have made the mistake of speaking so condescendingly to Joanne.
"It's the people who carry out lynchings who are uncivilized!" she said.
Woody decided this was the moment to make his contribution to the argument. "Joanne is right," he said. He made his voice lower in pitch, to sound older. "There was a lynching in the hometown of our help, Joe and Betty, who have looked after me and my brother since we were babies. Betty's cousin was stripped naked and burned with a blowtorch, while a crowd watched. Then he was hanged." Victor glared at him, resentful of this kid who was taking Joanne's attention away, but the others in the group listened with horrified interest. "I don't care what his crime was," Woody said. "The white people who did that to him are savages."
Victor said: "Your beloved President Roosevelt didn't support the anti-lynch bill, though, did he?"
"No, and that was very disappointing," said Woody. "I know why he made that decision: he was afraid that angry Southern congressmen would retaliate by sabotaging the New Deal. All the same, I would have liked him to tell them to go to hell."
Victor said: "What do you know? You're just a kid." He took a silver flask from his jacket pocket and topped up his drink.
Joanne said: "Woody's political ideas are more grown-up than yours, Victor."
Woody glowed. "Politics is kind of the family business," he said. Then he was irritated by a tug at his elbow. Too polite to ignore it, he turned to see Charlie Farquharson, perspiring from his exertions on the dance floor.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" said Charlie.
Woody resisted the temptation to tell him to buzz off. Charlie was a likable guy who did no harm to anyone. You had to feel sorry for a man with a mother like that. "What is it, Charlie?" he said with as much good grace as he could muster.
"It's about Daisy."
"I saw you dancing with her."
"Isn't she a great dancer?"
Woody had not noticed but, to be nice, he said: "You bet she is!"
"She's great at everything."
"Charlie," said Woody, trying to suppress a tone of incredulity, "are you and Daisy courting?"
Charlie looked bashful. "We've been horse riding in the park a couple of times, and so on."
"So you are courting." Woody was surprised. They seemed an unlikely pair. Charlie was such a lump, and Daisy was a poppet.
Charlie added: "She's not like other girls. She's so easy to talk to! And she loves dogs and horses. But people think her father is a gangster."
"I guess he is a gangster, Charlie. Everyone bought their liquor from him during Prohibition."
"That's what my mother says."
"So your mother doesn't like Daisy." Woody was not surprised.
"She likes Daisy fine. It's Daisy's family she objects to."
An even more surprising thought occurred to Woody. "Are you thinking of marrying Daisy?"
"Oh, God, yes," said Charlie. "And I think she might say yes, if I asked her."
Well, Woody thought, Charlie had class but no money, and Daisy was the opposite, so maybe they would complement one another. "Stranger things have happened," he said. This was kind of fascinating, but he wanted to concentrate on his own romantic life. He looked around, checking that Joanne was still there. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked Charlie. It was not as if they were great friends.
