us. I hope you don’t rub our noses in that every day.’
Before I could respond, Ruth jumped to my defense. ‘Libby ain’t no snobby Yankee. She was raised on a farm in Virginia. She can milk cows and slop hogs. She’s one of us.’
‘She’s a scientist, Ruth. Don’t kid yourself. She’s only with us because she has no choice.’
‘And there’s something not natural about a career woman,’ another woman chimed in.
‘Yeah,’ said another. ‘All of us are just doing our part for the war. When the men come back home, all we want to do is get married and have babies. What about her?’
‘Land’s sakes! Libby is a woman, too,’ Ruth said. ‘She can’t wait to get married and have babies.’
I started to object to that statement but felt a sharp pinch on my upper arm as Ruth hustled me into the stairwell. ‘Now, what were you going to say?’ she asked.
‘I doubt if I’ll ever get married or have babies, Ruthie.’
‘You’re just saying that ’cause you haven’t met the right fella yet.’
‘No, Ruthie, I—’
‘Never you mind, Libby, I won’t say that again. It doesn’t matter. C’mon, I’ve got more girls you need to meet.’
On each floor, the same scene repeated itself. Ruth, already beloved and me quickly scorned. I was surprised that none of the negative reactions of the other girls seemed to affect Ruth’s attitude at all. She continued to treat me like a prized trophy, presenting me to one and all with pride. When we got back to the room, Ruth said, ‘See, I am the only girl with a scientist for a roommate. Ha! None of them can top that.’
‘But, Ruthie, they don’t like me,’ I objected.
‘Pshaw, they’re just all green with envy.’
Over the following weeks, Ruth’s loyalty and commitment to our friendship never wavered, no matter what anyone said. Her constant refrain became an admonishment that we needed to spend time having fun together. She kept saying, ‘Girl, you need to stop workin’ so darned hard. I finally gave in to her urging and the two of us went to see the first movie airing in the new theatre. It was a British film, Noel Coward’s
In Which We Serve
, a dramatic recounting of the Battle of Crete in 1941, aboard the ship of the HMS
Torrin
.
By mid-September, our dormitory was overflowing. Many girls had three to a room. We breathed a sigh of relief after each new group of arrivals settled in and we realized they wouldn’t have to cram one more person in our space.
In October, an influx of additional Eastman Kodak scientists flooded into the laboratories. I searched the incoming in vain for just one more female face. Not a single woman in the whole lot.
My male colleagues were friendly enough for the most part and I recognized more than a few faces were familiar from Rochester, but a lot of those men grew suspicious when they learned that I had arrived two months ahead of the rest of them. Once again, there were frequent instances when conversations halted when I walked into a room and I overheard many snide remarks when I walked away. Four years at a women’s college had its downside: it didn’t prepare me for the real world where the backward attitudes of men were in plentiful supply.
The male scientists had no ulterior motives to be friendly to me, either. There were plenty of women around; they outnumbered the men with ease. Those young chemists, no matter how low they were on the totem pole, had no problem getting dates with Calutron girls, secretaries and other gals working here. I treated them all like peers but they could count on being admired and placed on a pedestal by the others. All I had to offer was a definite step backward in status. I accepted that many of them would be threatened by an equal, but I certainly didn’t like it.
Still, I was excited when the Shangri La Club of Bachelors announced their first soiree – a Sadie Hawkins dance, where girls asked the guys to dance – on October 30. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be
Before I could respond, Ruth jumped to my defense. ‘Libby ain’t no snobby Yankee. She was raised on a farm in Virginia. She can milk cows and slop hogs. She’s one of us.’
‘She’s a scientist, Ruth. Don’t kid yourself. She’s only with us because she has no choice.’
‘And there’s something not natural about a career woman,’ another woman chimed in.
‘Yeah,’ said another. ‘All of us are just doing our part for the war. When the men come back home, all we want to do is get married and have babies. What about her?’
‘Land’s sakes! Libby is a woman, too,’ Ruth said. ‘She can’t wait to get married and have babies.’
I started to object to that statement but felt a sharp pinch on my upper arm as Ruth hustled me into the stairwell. ‘Now, what were you going to say?’ she asked.
‘I doubt if I’ll ever get married or have babies, Ruthie.’
‘You’re just saying that ’cause you haven’t met the right fella yet.’
‘No, Ruthie, I—’
‘Never you mind, Libby, I won’t say that again. It doesn’t matter. C’mon, I’ve got more girls you need to meet.’
On each floor, the same scene repeated itself. Ruth, already beloved and me quickly scorned. I was surprised that none of the negative reactions of the other girls seemed to affect Ruth’s attitude at all. She continued to treat me like a prized trophy, presenting me to one and all with pride. When we got back to the room, Ruth said, ‘See, I am the only girl with a scientist for a roommate. Ha! None of them can top that.’
‘But, Ruthie, they don’t like me,’ I objected.
‘Pshaw, they’re just all green with envy.’
Over the following weeks, Ruth’s loyalty and commitment to our friendship never wavered, no matter what anyone said. Her constant refrain became an admonishment that we needed to spend time having fun together. She kept saying, ‘Girl, you need to stop workin’ so darned hard. I finally gave in to her urging and the two of us went to see the first movie airing in the new theatre. It was a British film, Noel Coward’s
In Which We Serve
, a dramatic recounting of the Battle of Crete in 1941, aboard the ship of the HMS
Torrin
.
By mid-September, our dormitory was overflowing. Many girls had three to a room. We breathed a sigh of relief after each new group of arrivals settled in and we realized they wouldn’t have to cram one more person in our space.
In October, an influx of additional Eastman Kodak scientists flooded into the laboratories. I searched the incoming in vain for just one more female face. Not a single woman in the whole lot.
My male colleagues were friendly enough for the most part and I recognized more than a few faces were familiar from Rochester, but a lot of those men grew suspicious when they learned that I had arrived two months ahead of the rest of them. Once again, there were frequent instances when conversations halted when I walked into a room and I overheard many snide remarks when I walked away. Four years at a women’s college had its downside: it didn’t prepare me for the real world where the backward attitudes of men were in plentiful supply.
The male scientists had no ulterior motives to be friendly to me, either. There were plenty of women around; they outnumbered the men with ease. Those young chemists, no matter how low they were on the totem pole, had no problem getting dates with Calutron girls, secretaries and other gals working here. I treated them all like peers but they could count on being admired and placed on a pedestal by the others. All I had to offer was a definite step backward in status. I accepted that many of them would be threatened by an equal, but I certainly didn’t like it.
Still, I was excited when the Shangri La Club of Bachelors announced their first soiree – a Sadie Hawkins dance, where girls asked the guys to dance – on October 30. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be
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