Here the canoe-hats had formed an open oblong between the curb and an
apartment front. It was necessary for anyone who went by to cross this
area. On its rim stood a man with a stick, and heavy batteries. He
wore a sergeant's chevrons and his breast was a blaze of heroism. Men
crossed the vacated cement untouched--and middle-aged women, also. But
whenever a young girl made her way through the hem of the crowd and
came unexpectedly into the hollow oblong, the sergeant sneaked forward
with his stick, got behind her, lifted the rear of her skirt, poked,
and applied the juice.
The girls, shocked electrically, without warning, in this delicate
and private part of their anatomies reacted frantically. Most of
them screamed. All of them leaped--thrusting their hips forward
convulsively. Some then ran--and dove into the crowd on the other side.
One, a girl with long, dark hair, slipped after she leaped, fell, and
tore a hole in her stocking. Another jumped, turned, and cursed. One
tried to hit the sergeant with her pocketbook. Most endeavored to
recover some shred of composure--to laugh--or to slip away without
showing what they felt. Some wept instantly.
But the response of the delighted--the ecstatic onlookers, was always
the same: a jarring salvo of catcalls, guffaws, finger whistles, ribald
yells, mirth's paroxysms.
I watched this business for quite a while--the bands going by behind
me--the flags--the guns--and the sweating people standing all along the
curb for miles of Fifth Avenue.
Finally, a fair-haired girl of about sixteen came innocently into the
open place, looked about to find the reason for it, saw none, and
began to cross. The sergeant slipped swiftly behind her. Quickly, with
his stick, he lifted the little pink cotton of her skirt, bent as he
walked, with ogling pool-room pantomine, took aim, and thrust. This
girl did not leap but stood transfixed on the point of the electric
stick. A great grin broke on the sergeant's face and he thrust,
now--again and again. Her head turned in slow horror. Whatever fantasy
had seized her brain was shattered by the sight of the lewd man jabbing
at her. The crowd roared like all the pottery on earth falling over a
precipice. A look of the most pitiful terror came over her. At last,
she found the nerves and muscles for running and escaped into the
yapping multitude.
The sergeant straightened up. When he straightened, I stepped out and
hit him on the mouth as hard as I could.
The approving roar stopped as if a noose had tightened on its throat.
The sergeant stared at me with addled menace. Blood trickled from
between his lips, where I had felt his teeth loosen.
Then one of his buddies hit me from the side.
My nose blazed with pain.
The hollow lost its shape. Different--yet not much different yells were
raised.
Someone cracked the back of my head.
I saw a place between two fat men, lunged at it, looked back. The
sergeant was slowly sitting down, fumbling for his handkerchief.
Blows fell on me. A man in a navy uniform grabbed my arm. I hit him and
he let go. The crowd closed around me.
When, after long minutes of pushing and weaving, I emerged on a side
street, my nose was bleeding.