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Peer Pressure Peer Prevention The Role of Friends in Crime and Conformity 1st Edition Barbara J Costello Trina L Hope
Peer Pressure Peer Prevention The Role of Friends in Crime and Conformity 1st Edition Barbara J Costello Trina L Hope
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Peer Pressure, Peer Prevention
“This book makes a major contribution by considering how peer pressure goes in
multiple directions. It broadens our discussion of peer effects on crime and thus can
help resolve many of the issues that have been discussed for many decades.”
—Marcus Felson, Professor of Sociology, Texas State University
“Criminologists know little more about mechanisms of peer influence or the everyday
social interaction of youth than they did a generation ago. This is a sad and startling
admission, particularly in light of all the attention that peer influence has received in
recent years. This book brings the authority and richness of real life back into the study
of peer influence, along with an abundance of original insights and ideas. For an area
often hindered by methodological controversies and theoretical inertia, this should be
welcome news. Costello and Hope deserve our thanks.”
—Mark Warr, Professor of Sociology, University of Texas at Austin
Peer Pressure, Peer Prevention
The Role of Friends in Crime and
Conformity
and by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN
The right of Barbara J. Costello and Trina L. Hope to be identified as author of this work has
been asserted by them in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any
form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented,
including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the publishers.
Typeset in Bembo
by Apex CoVantage, LLC
In memory of my mother, Nancy J. MacFarlane, and for Brad.
—BJC
Preface
Acknowledgments
Appendices
References
Index
Preface
The idea for this book came out of my reading of the literature on
peer influence processes. Given my background as a student of
Travis Hirschi and Michael Gottfredson at the University of Arizona, I
began my career skeptical of explanations of peer influence that
relied on peers teaching each other that deviant behavior is okay or
good. My background as a teenager who engaged in some minor
delinquent acts also left me skeptical of explanations that held that
youths commit crime because they don’t see anything wrong with it
—my friends and I were well aware that the mischief we were up to
was not right, not acceptable under the circumstances, and that
we’d be in a lot of trouble if we got caught. There was nothing in the
literature on peer influence that convinced me that my skepticism
was misguided. Further, it struck me that criminologists studying
peer influence tended to overlook one obvious fact—youths engage
in conforming behavior together at least as much as they engage in
deviance together. In fact, I noted this point in my first professional
publication (Costello 1997).
I became more interested in studying peer influence as social
network analysis came to be used extensively in criminology. I
attended an excellent course in social network analysis taught by
Stanley Wasserman and Bernice Pescosolido at Indiana University. I
learned a lot about network analysis in the course, including the fact
that it simply couldn’t answer the questions that I thought were key
in the study of peer influence. Network analysis can reveal a great
deal about the structure of social groups and how attitudes and
behaviors are connected among group members, but what it can’t
do is tell us much about how peer influence plays out on the micro-
level. If a behavior “spreads” across members of a group over time,
how and why does that happen? This is the question of causal
mechanism that I think has remained unanswered despite advances
in quantitative methods in sociology and criminology.
I started asking my students at the University of Rhode Island
(URI) questions about their experiences with peer influence, and
collected some preliminary data from them in the form of papers
written for my classes. I realized that student papers were a great
source of data that required few resources to collect, and in Fall
2009 I formally collected data in the form of anonymous papers
written by my students in a large General Sociology course I was
teaching. I realized that quantitative data would be a great addition
to the qualitative data I had, and I asked my friend and graduate
school colleague Trina Hope if she would be interested and able to
collect some data at the University of Oklahoma (OU) for a
collaborative project. With an eye primarily toward positive peer
influence, we designed and administered a questionnaire to a small
sample of URI students and a larger sample of OU students, and
also collected additional qualitative data from both samples.
Although our sample cannot be assumed to be representative of
students at these universities, we ended up with a rich data set
including both qualitative and quantitative measures of peer
influence processes.1
This book is intended to be a first step in uncovering the reasons
behind the peer effect on deviance, in other words, to explain why
there is a relationship between the individuals’ deviance and that of
their peers. It is also intended to expand sociologists’ and
criminologists’ focus on peer influence to include positive peer
pressure, or the tendency of people to discourage deviance among
their friends and to encourage productive, prosocial behaviors that
promote health and wellbeing. We approach both questions from a
theoretical perspective that has long discounted the importance of
direct peer influence on behavior, and take a fresh look at peer
influence from a control theory perspective.
Our respondents have told us in their own words about their
experiences with both positive and negative peer influence, both on
the “giving” and “receiving” ends of the interactions. In addition to
the unprecedented look at influence processes this has provided us,
we think our presentation of these data will make our book
accessible to undergraduate students, who might recognize
themselves or their friends in some of our students’ accounts. The
book might also spark some interesting ideas for student research
projects. Students might collect their own data on peer influence
among their friends, roommates, or fraternity brothers and sorority
sisters. Some of our respondents mentioned posting videos of their
antics on YouTube, which led us to wonder what a systematic
analysis of YouTube videos might turn up. It might also be
interesting to analyze peer influence processes in movies and novels
—we’ve noticed a number of references to positive peer influence
processes in the Harry Potter books and movies, for example. We
hope using this book in our own courses will lead students to give us
new ideas for future research projects as well.
We also think that this book will be of value to anyone interested
in peer influence processes or criminological theory in general.
Scholars in criminology, sociology, psychology, the study of drug and
alcohol use, and adolescent behavior should find our book useful.
We briefly touch on implications of our findings for policy as well,
and we hope that our findings can inform programs designed to
prevent behaviors that often involve bystanders, such as bullying,
sexual assault among college and university students, and drug and
alcohol abuse. Prevention programs should be grounded in the
findings of basic research, drawing on what we know about what
peers actually do to intervene in each other’s deviance, and on what
we know about when they are likely to be successful.
Note
1 We are happy to share our data with interested researchers upon request.
Acknowledgments
Sometimes kids get into trouble. Kids get into more trouble when
they’re around their friends than when they’re alone. Parents often
react to kids getting into trouble with friends by forbidding them to
hang around with those friends, arguing that they’re a “bad
influence.” But are they? And if so, exactly how does that influence
happen? If we knew the answer to these questions, we’d be in a
much better position to try to prevent delinquent, deviant, or
criminal behavior before it happens.
On the other hand, kids can keep each other out of trouble. We’re
all familiar with the catch phrase, “Friends don’t let friends drive
drunk.” Do they, or don’t they? Surprisingly, we know very little
about “positive peer pressure,” including how often it happens, when
it happens, who does it, and whether or not it works. If we knew the
answer to these questions, we would be in a better position to
encourage peer interference with deviant behaviors, and to
encourage peers to influence each other towards a range of positive,
productive behaviors.
These two issues are the focus of this book. Social scientists have
known for decades what parents have known for thousands of years
—that kids get into more trouble when they’re with other kids. But
we have not done a very good job of finding out why. We know that
there is a lot of truth to the adage, “Birds of a feather flock
together,” or the idea that people who are alike in some important
respect tend to come together and become friends. This is the
process of self-selection, which explains that friendship groups do
not form randomly, but rather that people with similar preferences
tend to get together. But beyond that, we know very little about
exactly what happens in the context of friendship groups that seems
to promote bad behavior. The number of possible explanations for
the correlation between having deviant friends and engaging in
delinquent or criminal behavior is large, and includes the following
possibilities, which we refer to throughout the book as causal
mechanisms that can explain the correlation:
Friends can:
Learning Theories
The vast majority of explanations of delinquency focusing on
delinquent peers draw on the idea that crime and delinquency are
learned from others. This idea is an old one, and can be traced back
at least as far as the Greek dramatist Thais, who in around 300 bc
wrote, “bad company corrupts good character” (also translated as
“evil companionships corrupt good morals,” as cited in Burt 1925:
123). It is not surprising, then, that some of the earliest works on
the causes of crime also draw on this idea. Even Cesare Lombroso,
most closely associated with the idea that crime has biological roots,
thought that some crimes were the result of imitation, and that a
“depraved environment, which counsels or even insists on
wrongdoing, and the bad example of parents or relatives” are
“sinister” influences on children (Lombroso-Ferrero 1911: 144).
Shaw and McKay argued that socially disorganized communities
allow delinquent traditions to flourish, stating that delinquency is
“part of the culture and tradition which is transmitted through the
medium of social contact” in high crime neighborhoods (Shaw 1931:
18). However, the notion that crime is learned is most closely
associated with the work of Edwin Sutherland (1947), who argued
that crime is learned through association with others who teach
“definitions favorable to violation of law,” or in other words, norms
that promote criminal behavior (Sutherland, Cressey, and Luckenbill
1992: 89). Later, Burgess and Akers (1966) explicitly incorporated
the language of learning theory into Sutherland’s theory, arguing
that deviant behavior is learned through the process of
reinforcement for deviant behavior and deviant verbalizations.
Sutherland’s differential association theory and Akers’s differential
association-reinforcement theory are based on the idea that
everyone has some contact with deviant and conforming others;
those of us who have more contact with deviant others will be
exposed to “an excess of definitions favorable to violation of law”
(Sutherland, Cressey, and Luckenbill 1992: 89), or will experience
greater reinforcement for deviant behavior than for non-deviant
behavior (Burgess and Akers 1966). These theories hold that the
dominant culture in a society may condemn crime, but at the same
time there are deviant subcultures that have their own values in
opposition to those of the dominant culture. Although Sutherland
noted that some of what’s learned in the process of learning criminal
behavior is techniques for committing crime, the emphasis in both
his and Akers’s theory is on learning norms or definitions that
support criminal behavior. As Kornhauser (1978) summarized it,
criminal behavior for cultural deviance theories such as Sutherland’s
and Akers’s is normal learned behavior—people do not violate the
norms of their own subculture, they only violate norms of the
dominant culture.
For learning theories, then, crime and deviance are social. They
have social causes in that they are learned from others in the
process of social interaction, and the strength of our ties to others
affects the learning process. Sutherland held that associations that
are greater in “frequency, duration, priority, and intensity” will be
more likely to affect norms and behavior. In other words, people we
come into contact with more often, for longer periods of time, earlier
in life, and those with whom we have closer relationships will have a
greater impact on our behavior. For Akers, these aspects of
associations are important because they can affect the likelihood
that we will experience reinforcement for deviant behavior (Akers
1998). Given their focus on the social causes of crime, it seems only
natural that learning theories have dominated the literature on the
peer–delinquency connection. However, this perspective has been
challenged, often from theorists working in the control theory
tradition (Costello 1997; Hirschi 1969; Kornhauser 1978). Control
theories hold that the causes of crime are asocial, simply the result
of people’s desires to maximize pleasure and minimize pain. For
control theories, social ties prevent crime rather than cause it, and
thus the peer group is not seen as an important cause of crime. We
summarize the key issues in the debate between learning and
control theories below.
Note
1 According to Kandel (1978), this term was coined by Lazarsfeld and Merton (1954) and
originally simply described the fact that friends tend to be similar to each other on a
variety of characteristics, without explaining that fact. Warr and others use the term as
synonymous to self-selection, or the idea that “people make friends with people who are
similar to themselves” (2002: 41). Thus, in Kandel’s use of the term, self-selection can
explain homophily, but in Warr’s use, self-selection is another term for homophily.
3
Qualitative Accounts of Negative
Peer Influence
Although we know from prior research that a great deal of the “peer
effect” is the result of self-selection, approximately half of the
relationship between deviance and peer deviance remains
unexplained. Possible mechanisms of influence that have been
discussed in the literature range from the mundane, including a
simple opportunity effect in which peers present each other with
invitations to deviance that are readily accepted (Costello 1997;
Felson 2003; McGloin and Nguyen 2012; Osgood and Anderson
2004) to the dramatic, in which peers ridicule each other for failure
to deviate, pressure each other to deviate, or threaten to ostracize
those who fail to deviate (Brown et al. 2008; Warr 2002). Because
most studies of peer influence do not ask respondents to report on
processes of group interaction, however, we simply have no
information on how or why peers influence each other toward
deviance. The analyses reported in this chapter are thus a first step
in the process of uncovering the mechanisms by which peers
influence each other’s behavior toward deviance.
The data in this chapter are drawn from two sources. First,
detailed accounts of incidents of peer influence were drawn from 81
papers written by students in an introductory sociology course at the
University of Rhode Island (URI) in the Fall 2009 semester. The vast
majority of students were first-year students. Students were given
the opportunity to write papers for extra credit that described in
detail incidents they directly witnessed or participated in that
involved positive or negative peer influence. Papers were submitted
anonymously, and credit was awarded based only on students’
signed consent forms, which were submitted at the same time but
separate from the papers. Students were also instructed to use
pseudonyms for themselves and others to maintain their anonymity.
(See Appendix A for the full instructions for the assignment.) Papers
averaged two pages, typically about one page describing an incident
of negative influence and one page describing an incident of positive
influence. Students were especially encouraged to write about
incidents of positive influence, as we expected those to be more
difficult to recall.
Of the 81 papers submitted, there were 55 descriptions of
negative influence and 74 descriptions of positive influence that met
our criteria for inclusion in the study. Some of the papers didn’t quite
fit the guidelines provided for the assignment and were therefore
not included in the analysis. Instructions asked students to describe
specific incidents, and some papers were excluded because the
situations described were not specific enough. For example,
respondent number 55 explained that a friend of hers had started
skipping school and doing drugs after she starting dating a new
boyfriend. This level of detail was insufficient to determine how or
why the girl began engaging in deviant behavior, and was therefore
not included in our analysis. Respondent number 52 described a
situation of positive influence in which he and a group of friends
tried to help a friend get over the trauma of his girlfriend breaking
up with him. Because we are interested in peer influence on
behavior rather than someone’s psychological state, this paper was
also excluded from our analysis. Because some papers described
multiple incidents or some incidents were classified into more than
one category, the number of coded incidents was 68 for negative-
influence incidents and 89 for positive-influence incidents.1
The second source of qualitative data was student responses to
two open-ended questions on our survey of 108 URI students and
723 University of Oklahoma (OU) students conducted in Spring
semester 2012 (the complete surveys are described in Chapter 5).
These questions asked students to describe an incident that they
directly witnessed or participated in that involved positive peer
influence and one that involved negative influence (see Appendix B
for question wording). Most of the respondents answered the open-
ended questions. Students at Oklahoma, who completed the survey
online, gave much more detailed accounts than the URI students,
who completed the survey in class on paper. Typical responses from
URI students included,
Stopping someone from drinking more at a party.
Preventing a fight.
I saw a friend of mine who doesn’t normally drink coerced into doing so.
I was volunteering at an event and had to work a 12–6 pm shift, and wasn’t supposed
to leave the event. An acquaintance of mine, “Nicole,” tried to encourage me to sneak
out and leave the event for a little while with her. Ultimately, she was not successful, as
I chose to stay.
Overall, though, the richest source of qualitative data was the URI
students’ papers written for extra credit. Not surprisingly, they were
much more detailed, and were more likely to include information on
the thoughts of the students involved.3 This provided more useful
data for categorizing types of influence by the motives of those
involved and the methods they used to influence their peers. For
example, in the students’ survey responses, it was very common for
them to write things like:
My girlfriend was pressured into drinking more than she should have on her birthday.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
know. Just have a little with me; I'm old enough to be your mother, and we
won't give Max a drop—just to punish him.—Cassie!"
She had run through the speech with a rapidity that had left the girl no
chance for reply, and now, before Mary could move her lips, she had, with
amazing agility, leaped to a back door, opened it, called an order into the
darkness beyond, and as quickly returned to her former position on the sofa.
"It will be the best thing in the world for you," she said. "The doctor
orders it for me, and so I always have it ready on ice."
As she concluded speaking, the door through which she had called was
reopened and there entered a tall, raw-boned, glum, colored girl, whose
shining ebony skin was darkened by the white apron that she wore. She
bore a tray on which was a gilt-topped bottle and two narrow glasses.
The girl obeyed and left the room. Max seized the bottle, ripped off the
gilding and, wrapping his purple-bordered handkerchief about the neck,
with one dexterous twist, drew out the resounding cork.
A living foam gushed from the neck as the self-appointed butler poured
into the two glasses a pale gold fluid, which creamed angrily to their edges,
and then subsided until first one addition and then another set them boiling
again.
Mrs. Légère took a glass in each hand and pressed the foremost into the
passive palm of the girl.
Mary hesitated, the glass to her lips. She could hear the liquid
whispering to her, and particles seemed to jump from it and sting her eyes.
"My dear," her entertainer informed her, "there is only one kind of wine
in New York."
The words and the connotation had their lure. Champagne—she had
heard of it as the beverage of the rich; and eight dollars for one bottle—the
price of two winter dresses!
"Here's to the wedding!" prompted the hostess, and drank the entire
contents of her glass.
Mary took a mouthful and swallowed it. At first she nearly choked.
Then the fiery liquid brought fresh tears to her blue eyes, still smarting from
the gas that had, a moment before, assailed them. But finally, there began to
spread through her weary body a grateful glow, and, half in apology for
what she feared had been a clownish exhibition, she looked up with red lips
pleasantly parted.
"Now, wasn't I right?" inquired Mrs. Légère. "Don't you feel better
already?"
She took, bravely and with an ease now gained by experience, a second
drink, and, as she held the glass before her, Max gallantly replenished it.
A bell rang and the glum, ebony maid passed through the room, closing
both doors behind her.
Mary, alarmed at this nocturnal interruption, started a little, but neither
of her companions seemed to regard the incident as unusual.
"You look much better," Mrs. Légère asseverated. "Finish that glass,
dearie, and you'll be all to the good again."
"Vhy, there ain't enough here to hurt a baby," declared the former.
Mary accepted the assurance. She did not like the taste of the
champagne, but she knew now that she had been very tired, and the wine
sent fresh life and energy through her sleepy limbs. She emptied the glass
and felt, joyfully, all her fears and regrets slipping for her. Doubt and
difficulty were resolved into a shimmering mist, were overcome, were
forgotten.
"Excuse me," she said, leaving the room. "I'll be right back."
"I'm going to fool her," he said. "I'm going to graft her drink!"
He took the glass that his hostess had placed upon the table, poured
more of the wine into it, replenished the glass of his now unresisting
companion and sat down by her side, his arm stretched behind her.
Mary, with refreshed courage, broke the silence. She was feeling like a
naughty child triumphantly successful in her naughtiness.
"Do you know, Max," she said, "I gave a jump when that bell rang? I
thought for a minute they might be after us."
"Nix on that," chuckled Max. "They couldn't catch us if they tried.
Here's to the runavays!"
"I guess," the young man pursued, "it was chust von of Rosie's
boarders."
"But I——" Mary hesitated. She was tasting wine for the first time in
her life, she had been tired and nerve-wracked, and now, though thoughts
danced through her mind with unfamiliar rapidity, utterance seemed to her
suddenly, and somewhat amusingly, to have become too clumsy to keep
pace with them. "I thought," she elaborately persisted, "that—you—said—
she—was rich."
"She is," said Max; "only she's got a big house she can't all use herself.
Lots of people fill their houses that vay in N'York."
Mary started to formulate a reply that came glistening along the dim
horizon of her mind; but just then there was a light tap at the door.
She sat down opposite the pair she was addressing and, without noticing
that Max had appropriated her glass, discovered a fresh one on the
mantelpiece, poured herself a mouthful of the wine and then decanted the
rest for Mary.
She had just put down the empty bottle when the bell rang a second
time.
"Good Lord," she sighed, "there it goes again! These people will be the
death of me, losing their keys and coming in at all hours. Never mind,
Cassie," she called through the rear door, "I'll go myself!" And then, to
Mary, she concluded: "I'll attend to this and then I'll come right back and
send Max home and show you to your room."
She left them seated on the sofa, Max's dark hand encircling the soft,
young fingers of the girl as gently as if he had been a rustic wooer.
"Not for me," she said; "I guess I've had enough."
Gradually, as his voice ran smoothly on, the words he was then saying
became confused in her brain with other words that he had said earlier in
the evening. Her eyelids grew heavy. The mood of exhilaration passed, and
a weariness far more compelling than that from which she had previously
suffered stole upon her. Mrs. Légère was absent for an unconscionable time.
The girl yawned.
"I wonder when she's comin' back," said Mary, "I'm—I'm awful tired."
Max's hand slipped to her unresisting head and pressed it down upon his
shoulder. He had not yet so much as kissed her, and he did not kiss her now.
"Don't vorry about her," he said softly. "You're tired out. Chust close
your eyes for a minute, Mary, un' I'll vake you vhen she comes."
His shoulder was very comfortable. She closed her blue eyes.
"Sure I vill," said Max. "I'll have you clean avake before she's through
knockin'."
But he must have forgotten that promise, for when Mrs. Légère at last
returned, he was still sitting there among the pillows, Mary's hair fallen
over his green coat, her cheeks pinker than ever, and her girlish breast rising
and falling rhythmically in sleep.
IV
AWAKENING
At first she could neither think nor recollect. The blows of an ax,
regular, tremendous, were splitting her head. Her throat was hot and dry and
choking. Her stomach crawled and leaped with nausea. From head to foot
she was shaking with recurrent nervous chills that wracked a body of which
every muscle was strained and sore.
This was not the room in which she had first fallen asleep.
With that isolated fact flashing like a message of disaster through her
brain, she sat suddenly upright in the bed; but the room pitched before her
like a boat in the trough of a storm on the river at home. A wave of sickness
hissed over her, and she sank back among pillows repellantly scented.
Vaguely she realized that she must be in a room somewhere above the
ground floor. Dimly she began to wonder how she had got up the stairs.
What would the kindly Mrs. Légère think of her condition? And that which
had happened—had it lasted for an hour or a night?
For herself, for Max, but most of all for the hideous facts of life, she
shook in physical disgust. Before the face of such things, what must birth
and marriage mean? She opened her eyes, but she could not look at her
silent witnesses; she shut her lids, but she saw, behind them, the hairy arms
of a gorilla closing on her, to break her and bear her away. For one moment,
all that she had loved she hated, and for the next, seizing his smiling
reassurance as the one vow that could legalize what nothing could refine, all
that she had come to hate she tried to force herself to love.
She understood now so much that she had never understood before: the
whispered words of town gossip, the stray glimpses of lovers in the summer
lanes, the cautions and the commands that had once so galled her in her
home.
At the word, her mind swung back to far-away yesterday. She was sorry
that she had been the cause—for she had been the cause—of the spilling of
the stew. She was sorry that she had been so sharp with Sallie. She wished
that she had washed the dishes less unwillingly. She still feared—she more
than ever feared—the swaying bulk of masculinity that had been her father,
but she began to see in him the logical result of forces that were themselves,
as yet, beyond her ken; and she looked with a new and pitying vision upon
the picture of her little, work-worn and care-marked mother stooping over
the polished kitchen-stove.
Her breast tossed and her throat throbbed; but she was beyond tears.
Painfully, slowly, yet with resolution, she struggled back to her sitting-
posture in the bed.
In this position she found herself facing a long mirror hung against the
opposite wall, and in the mirror she saw what was herself. With a low cry,
she pulled loose the sheet and covered her nakedness.
That done, she looked again at the strange face that fronted her: a face
the more strange because it was the intimate become alien, a ruin, an
accusation. Framed in a tangle of dank hair, the cheeks, once pink, were
chalky now, and splotched with red, the mouth that she had known only as
full and firm, was loose and twisted; the eyes that had been blue, now
circled with black, burned in blood-shot fields like coals of angry fire.
One impulse alone directed her: to find her clothes; to put them on; to
return, as far as the mask of appearances would take her, to the self that she
had been. In spite of aching head and quivering hands, she wrapped the
sheet about her and, with infinite care, got from the bed. The floor seemed
to sweep up to meet her, but she steadied herself against the wall and, each
timid stride a separate agony, began to stumble about the room.
She looked for a clothes-closet or wardrobe, but there was neither. The
only door was the door of exit, and the nearest chair was empty. In a corner
she saw a pile of linen: laboriously she stooped and picked it up, unrolled a
portion, and then, gasping in horror, tossed it away. On the other chair there
lay a long kimona of crimson. She lifted it and found, neatly arranged
below, a sheer cambric garment edged with coarse lace, two black silk
stockings slashed with red, and a pair of slippers, high-heeled, with buckles
of brass—for no reason that she could have formulated, the sight sickened
her. She went to the bureau and tugged at its drawers, but all that she found
was a single brown bottle, like that she had first observed on the washstand,
filled with white tablets and labeled "Poison." Obviously, her clothes had
been taken from the room.
In a panic of shame, she groped blindly for the door: she must call for
Mrs. Légère. She grasped the knob and turned it—the door was locked.
Fear, mad and unreasoning, drove its spurs into her sides. Forgetting her
nausea, heedless of her pain, she ran first to one window and then to the
other, but the bowed shutters, though they admitted the light, would open
for nothing beside: they were fastened with riveted loops of brass, and,
looking through the small space between them, she could catch only a
glimpse of the street far below. She tried to argue that the key might have
fallen from the lock within the room, but she could not find it, and, the
sheet dropping from her shoulders, she began to rattle at the knob, and then
to pound upon the panels, her voice rising swiftly from a low call to a high,
hysterical, frantic cry for help.
"Mrs. Légère! Mrs. Légère! Mrs. Légère!" she cried, and then as
suddenly ceased, tilted against the door, and collapsed into a naked heap
upon the floor.
All power of movement seemed to have slipped from her, but when
there came a heavy footfall on the stair, a swish of skirts outside and the
loud rasping of a key inserted in the lock, Mary leaped galvanically to her
feet, gathered the sheet about her body, and flung herself upon the bed.
The door opened and closed behind Rose Légère, who promptly
relocked it and slipped the key into the swelling bosom but half concealed
by her dragon-spotted, baby-blue negligé.
A little more rotund of figure, a little looser in the cheeks, and more
patently crayoned and powdered about the eyes, a little more obviously
painted and a little older, she was still the woman of the brewery's
advertisement. But her forehead was knotted in deep, angry wrinkles; her
under jaw was thrust so far forward that the roll of fat beneath it was
invisible, and her eyes snapped with malice.
"Weren't you yellin'?" persisted Rose. "Did you lose your voice doin' it?
What in the hell's the matter with you, I say?"
With a sweep of her stout arm, she seized the girl's bare shoulder and
shook it till Mary's teeth clicked like castanets.
"I'm not goin' to have any such racket in my house!" the woman
asseverated, as she plied her punishment. "You've got to learn first-off to
keep your mouth to yourself, and be dead sure if you don't I'll give you a
real beatin'."
She tossed Mary from her, as if her victim had been a bundle of straw,
and stood up again, arms akimbo, breathing scarcely beyond her normal
speed.
Mary was half mad and wholly sick with dread. She wanted to cry out
for rescue and dared not. She wanted to rise and try to force the door or
break open the shutters, but she could not move. She could only lie there
panting for breath, with her mouth gasping and her heart hammering at her
breast. She had closed her eyes. She opened them just in time to see Rose,
whose slippered foot had touched something on the floor, stoop, pick up,
and place beside the key in her bosom, a crumpled purple-bordered
handkerchief.
"Now then," said the woman in a tone that, if still hard, was at least less
intense than its predecessor, "try to tell me what's the trouble, like
somebody this side of Matteawan."
"Your clothes ain't fit to wear," said Rose; "an' I don't know where Max
is. What you need is breakfast."
"Nonsense, honey," she said, her anger seeming now entirely passed.
"Of course you must eat. I got up on purpose for it, and I've set that nigger
cooking a perfect peach of a breakfast."
Rose leaned over the bed and put a soothing hand upon her questioner's
fevered forehead.
"Now don't lose your nerve, dearie," she advised. "I'm your friend—
honest, I am. You rest awhile and eat a little, and then maybe we'll talk
things over."
"No, he hasn't. But why are you lettin' that jar you? Perhaps he's sick,
too. Perhaps he's had some kind of a scrap with his old man. How do I
know what's hit him? He'll show up all right in the end and, till he does
show up, you just make yourself at home here and don't bother. I'll take care
of you."
Her tone was lightly argumentative, but it was also stolidly merciless,
and it hurled true to its mark the shaft of conviction. Out of the yesterday,
Mary heard the voice of her father that was the voice of a society rigidly
shaped by the conditions of its own fashioning:
"Bay 'un thirty year old an' noot another sin ag'in 'un, I would beat 'un
within a bare inch o' 'er deeth, an' turn 'un oot to live the life 'un had picked
fur herself!"
"To—where?"
Mary answered nothing. Rose had only confirmed what the girl had for
an hour feared.
"You see how it is," pursued Rose, reading Mary's silence with a
practiced mind. "Better let me take care of you."
Mary's face was hidden. Again she felt New York as a malevolent
consciousness, a living prison implacably raising around her its
insurmountable walls. There was, she thought, nothing left her but the
diminishing hope of Max's return.
Rose patted quietly one of the clenched hands that lay close to her.
"Better do it, dearie," she said. "I'm your friend; remember that. You can
have whatever you want."
Mary mastered what strength remained to her. She raised herself on her
elbow.
"Then let me go!" she pleaded, extending an open palm like a beggar
asking for a crust. "I don't care if my clothes is mussed. I don't care what'll
happen afterward. Just let me go!"
"Well, you would care, all right, all right. You can't go home, and you've
no clothes and no money and no references. You couldn't get work
anywhere in New York, and you couldn't get away from New York."
"I——" Mary groped through the darkness of her soul. "I can do
housework."
"Do you think the men in this town give money for nothing to a good-
looking girl? You could go on the street, that's what you could do."
The phrase was new to its hearer, but the tone explained it.
"Then," she stumbled forward, "I could go to the police. They'd help
me. I could——"
But at that word Rose flew into a torrent of anger and abuse that
dwarfed the former tempest.
"You could, could you?" she cried. "That's your game, is it, you
sneaking little innocent? I'll bet you're a damn sight wiser than you let on.
But you don't know this town: you can take that much from me. Go to the
police! Go to 'em! The cops on this beat are my friends: if you don't believe
it, I'll bring 'em in and introduce you. They're my friends, and so's the whole
precinct my friends. Go to 'em! Go to 'em, and I'll have you pinched and
locked up for bein' what you are!"
Mary had drawn away from the blast, but Rose's powerful fist caught
her under the chin and sent her crashing down on the bed.
"You don't come that on me!" the jailer continued. "You've got your
choice: you can stay here and live easy, or walk out and go to jail, and that's
all you can do. Max ain't comin' back, and you always knew he wouldn't
come back. You know what this house is as well as I do, and you've got to
stay here and earn your keep. If you give one yip I'll have the cops in! You
don't want to eat, hey? Well then, you shan't eat! You can lay there and
starve, or you can knock on the door and get the best breakfast you ever
had, all ready for you. Do what you please; but if you let out one yip I'll
hammer the life out of you!"
She turned and left the room. She banged the door behind her, and
Mary, in a swirling dream, heard herself again locked in her cell.
Through all the days that immediately followed—the days that were
nights, and the nights that were red noondays—a thousand horrors, from
subtle word to recurring experience, conjoined to assure to Mary the reality
of her servitude. All of that first day, after Rose had left her with the dark
blood oozing from her cut chin upon the scented pillows, she lay, like a
wounded dog, now in a faint and then in a stupor, on the disordered bed. As
the sunlight shifted and the shadows lengthened in the room, torpor gave
way to reawakened fear, and she crawled into a corner and tried to hide
herself, trembling, with chattering teeth, at every sound of laughter that rose
from the lower floors, at every footstep upon the stair.
Thrice Rose returned. Each time she bore a steaming dish that, as the
girl's physical pain grew less, assailed the nostrils with increasing
poignancy. Each time Mary shook her stubborn russet head. And each time
the visit ended in a beating.
And when she had come back, she had not come back alone.
It was not for some days that any woman save Rose came to Mary's cell
and then, one afternoon, two women followed the grating key.
They were alike only as to clothes. Both wore loose negligé garments,
but whereas the one was sturdy and German-blonde, with straw-colored
hair, round and heavy face, blue eyes and peasant frame—a younger Rose
—the other was wiry, compact, her brows low and dark under somber hair,
her full cheeks red only in defiance of a swarthy skin, her eyes black and
her mouth vermillion. It was this one who, with an accent that a more
sophisticated ear than Mary's would have placed along the Seine, was the
first to speak.
"'Ello!" she laughed, her teeth gleaming between her lips like
pomegranate seeds. "We have come to make the call."
Without awaiting a reply, she jumped upon the bed, drew her feet
beneath her, and produced and lit a cigarette. The German girl moved more
slowly to the other side and there elaborately ensconced herself.
Mary looked at her visitors without immediately replying. She had not,
in fact, the remotest idea of what was the fitting word.
But the French girl was unruffled by this silence. She flung her head
back upon a white neck and sent a slow column of blue smoke curling
toward the ceiling.
"My name," she explained, with an odd clipping of her speech, "eet ees
Celeste, an' my good frien' here," she continued with an easy gesture of the
cigarette, "she ees Fritzie—chust a bar-bar-ous German."
The German girl smiled gently and nodded her blonde head.
"No," insisted Mary. "I don't care about nothing. I have a headache all
the time. I have one now."
Celeste jumped lightly to the floor: it was as if to uncoil her feet and to
reach the door required but a single movement.
"Un moment!" she laughed. "I shall feex the mal de tête immediate!"
There was no time for remonstrance; the door closed upon her
concluding word, and Mary was left there gazing into the stolid, sphinxlike
face of the placidly smiling German. It was not a bad face, and soon Mary
realized that it was a contented one.
"I dought you looked like vorried," the German continued. "Bud you
should be nod. Dis iss a goot place. Dere are loads vorse blaces in New
York dan dis: I know 'em."
She paused, but Mary's lips remained closed, her eyes fixed.
"You bed I know 'um!" Fritzie repeated. "Bud dis blace—vhy, ve haf de
best meals, so goot nobody gould besser haf! I like dis blace."
A faint question shot into Mary's face. At once Fritzie answered it.
"Dat's righd. Listen: I gome over here two year ago in de steerage.
Some of de vomen, men meet dem—oh, most all de nod-family vons—un'
took dem to dese here intelligence office dat are only fakes, un' sold dem,
vidout dere knowin' nussin' of it, fur ten un' fifteen dollar' each. Bud I vas
careful. I get a real tshob.—Ach, himmel!"
"Id vas bad enough in de steerage mit all de sailor-mens kissin' you to-
day un' kickin' you to-morrow; bud dat tshob of mine, dat vas de real limit!
I gome over here because I vouldn't vork in de fields back home, bud in dat
boarding-house vhere I get dat tshob, I get up at dree o'clock every mornin',
because some of de mens vork in Jefferson Market, un' I haf to scrub, un'
make de beds, un' help cook, un' vait on dable, un' vash dishes, un' sweep de
whole house oud. Un' den till late at nighd I haf to help cook, un' vait on
dable, un' vash dishes some more still. Vhenever I am sick, or late, or break
von dish, or a boarder don' pay, I gets docked. Un' almost every veek I'm
sick or late or break a dish or a boarder don' pay. My vages is d'ree dollar a
veek, un' I never gets more as two-fifty—sometime, two—un' dat vill nod
pay my clothes ad first, un' don' pay my doctor bills aftervard."
The story was told monotonously, without much show of emotion, but it
was enough of itself to wring a word from the woman to whom it was
addressed.
"Who vouldn't?" said Fritzie. "You bed I get sick, un' vhen I gome oud
of de hospital, de young doctor—he'd been makin' grand lofe to me—he tell
me I vas too nice a girl to vork my hands off fur nussin' a veek, un' he gif
me his visitin' card vith a writin' on it to a voman he knowed, un' I quit un'
vent dere."
She paused, but Mary was silent, and the German resumed:
"It vas a goot place, bud nod so goot as dis von. I stay a mont' till she
move to Philadelphia. Den I vent to anozzer house, not so goot as dat first,
fur two mont's till the voman die. Un' den, after some more, I gome here,
pretty soon, to Miss Rose's. No"—she waved her thick hand toward the
door through which Celeste had lately passed—"I'm nod like dat Frenchie.
She's vhat Phil Beekman calls a 'gongenital,' vatever dat iss; I vork hard
enough now, und I vanted to vork righd den; bud I tell you I could not stand
it, dough I vas so strong. No, I'm glad I gome here."
"Now, dis Celeste——" she began, but the French girl, just then
entering, came with an air that was a sufficient explanation of her never
complex temperament.
"Voilà!" she smiled, holding aloft a long glass filled by a dull green
liquid. "Let the leetle girl tak some of thees wheech I meex for her."
Before she had well realized what she was doing, Mary had accepted
the glass.
"Ah, but no; eet ees not that. You try thees, an' then you can eat."
"Poof! That ees folly! See, now, I meex thees myself—I myself have
frappé eet. Ees eet what you call polite that you say 'no' to me? Say, now:
ees eet?"
Involuntarily Mary smiled. It was a rueful little smile, but it was a smile
of exhausted consent.
"Thees? You do not know eet. Eet ees the enemy of all the headache, of
all the heartache, of all the bad nerve."
For answer Mary drained the glass, and when her visitors left her they
turned no key upon their exit.
So, slowly, through all those early days, and through the days that
immediately followed them, the spell of the situation worked. There was
infamy, there was torture. The unending procession of visitors—clerks,
drummers, car-conductors, teamsters, gamesters, thieves, brothers in the
fraternity of lust, equals in the night of horror, mostly drunken, nearly all
unclean of body and everyone filthy of mind—the green government note
was their certificate of qualification, the money, however acquired,
constituted their right to those counterfeits which the house of Rose Légère
was maintained to sell. For that note, themselves the chattels of conditions,
they might caress or beat; for that, they might take whatever their hearts
demanded. Was the slave wounded? Was she ill? Was she heartbroken? She