Upper Sproul Hall has a broad, terraced stairway. It was there that Anne was sitting on a cold December day when the air began to close in.

She had taken the bus some 300 miles from Los Angeles to be here. Ten-year old Rose was with her. It had been a weekend trip! Anne’s boss Mr. Mayberry at City Council had offered her he and his wife’s spot at a Charity Auction being hosted by the University. They had had an unexpected family emergency back in Poughkeepsie. The auction was to raise awareness and funds for a fledgling idea that individuals with disabilities deserved equal opportunities, that they would and could achieve the same level of self-respect as anyone else.

Anne had jumped at the chance. Here was an opportunity to experience something different. A movement in its earliest stages. She had always felt her destiny lay in serving others. She sensed this as a chance to spend some time with Rose and for the two of them to take part in something wholly good.

She worried slightly about the Auction itself. Would she be expected to pledge? She was not without funds however she was also not without considerable financial responsibility either. Mr. Mayberry had assured her not to worry. He had already made sure the planned funds were available and she was to donate them in his name as well as the name of the Los Angeles City Council’s charitable special project fund.

The day was cold when they’d set out in her 1953 Studebaker. They’d packed sandwiches and pickles for the trip and each had a Coca-Cola for the ride. A treat since usually Rose had to sneak soda pop because her mother felt it was ‘nasty and apt to rot your teeth.’ They’d also packed their nicest dresses for the auction. Rose’s was a light blue jumper with flowered embroidery. She was not pleased preferring her blue jeans and peasant tops. But it was an affair after all and Anne and Rose were representing the Los Angeles City Councilman. The drive had been a long one but Anne felt with each passing mile that this would be a good time to talk to Rose, to catch up. To let her know she was listening.

Rose fiddled with the radio knobs and anxiously settled on the Beatles who had over ten songs on the Billboard charts. The strains filled the quiet car.

Without warning Rose broke the silence, “What was my father like?”

Anne smiled immediately as she always did whenever her Jack came to mind, which was often.

“He was like a gust of warm wind. Always powerful and blustery, never frigid. He took up the whole space when he entered a room.”

Rose laughed at that and Anne continued. “He was my best friend. We’d play together every day. Either over at my place or his. More his than mine since his mom, your Grandmother Lizzie, always had pastries and fruit.  My house was quieter, my father quieter. Since my mother…” she trailed off suddenly and had to look away. Her eyes had momentarily filled with tears.

“I wish my mother had not gone away.  I wonder what she would have thought of me. Of me marrying Jack and of you! Sometimes the longing to talk to her, to see her, is even more than seeing your father again.”

Rose was quiet at this. “She would have thought you brave and beautiful. Like I do.”

Anne smiled a wet smile and they drove for a while without talking listening to The Searchers.

Now they were at the Uni and sitting on the terraced stairs, the cold breeze causing everyone to hold their hats and books close. There were lots of knots of students milling around talking in hushed tones. There was a tension that seemed to be hanging in the air. As one there was a movement towards the large student activity center. Students in droves entered Sproul Hall and took places along the halls crowding the floor until you could no longer see the floor let alone walk. There were signs with F.S.N spray painted on sheets.

At the movement Anne and Rose had been corralled into the Student Center along with everyone else.  Anne held onto Rose tightly the crowd pressing close and the talk loud and angry. “Free Speech Now!” As the light outside faded students quieted down however there seemed to be no move to leave.  Anne was not feeling especially nervous. In listening to the talk around them her own feelings were roused.

The constant barrage of news footage and impassioned speeches were not something that could be ignored. There was a feeling of unrest. Of being unable to speak your heart.  Anne had a certain sense of this being a single female and parent working in a predominately male setting. Although her role in the office was fairly limited to the typical secretarial work including making and pouring the coffee for her boss Mr. Mulberry.

Sometimes it seemed to Anne that not much had been learned from the previous World Wars as well as Korea. She was well aware of the collateral damage left from Korea. So aware her heart hurt.  And even when she was little the tension of more terror and loss of life in what became known as the Second World War.

Still those in power continued to push their own agendas, continued to use the populace as pawns in something far beyond and far more sinister continued to stifle the masses from attaining life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

The air was thick with anger and resentment. Faces were tense and full of hate. There were people milling about outside the hall and sudden shouts and movement caused the crowd to surge forward. Some were left sitting in the hall and others jumping to their feet to hold signs and be heard. The police force had gathered holding clubs, heads lowered, nervousness permeating those outside and in. There was a man yelling his face just inches from a police officer’s face. So close the spittle could be seen landing on the man’s face and shirt. He shoved the man away from him and suddenly there were bodies being shoved this way and that. And crying.

Anne could hear the crying and frustration. Her heart thudded in her chest. She needed to leave. She needed to take Rose from this. The uncertainty of the situation tore at her mind.  Grasping Rose’s hand and nodding to her white face they made their way to the doors. No one seemed to pay them any heed so preoccupied were they at the spectacle, their voices drowning in fear and anger.

Anne and Rose made their way carefully out of the Hall and were passed hurriedly through the small crowd the men in police uniforms holding clubs with uncertain hands. The air was cool and Anne gulped it in. Soon they were back in their room, gathering their small belongings. They were on the road within minutes. Anne wanted nothing more than to be home.

Next Chapter: Anne, Los Angeles, October 1966