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Babbitt
great to see you again, old man. What are you Still
doing the same thing?
Some one was always starting a cheer or a college
song, and it was always thinning into silence. Despite
their resolution to be democratic they divided into two
sets: the men with dress-clothes and the men without.
Babbitt (extremely in dress-clothes) went from one group
to the other. Though he was, almost frankly, out for social
conquest, he sought Paul Riesling first. He found him
alone, neat and silent.
Paul sighed, Im no good at this handshaking and
well, look whos here bunk.
Rats now, Paulibus, loosen up and be a mixer! Finest
bunch of boys on earth! Say, you seem kind of glum.
Whats matter?
Oh, the usual. Run-in with Zilla.
Come on! Lets wade in and forget our troubles.
He kept Paul beside him, but worked toward the spot
where Charles McKelvey stood warming his admirers like
a furnace.
McKelvey had been the hero of the Class of 96; not only
football captain and hammer-thrower but debater, and passable
in what the State University considered scholarship. He had
gone on, had captured the construction-company once owned
by the Dodsworths, best-known pioneer family of Zenith.
He built state capitols, skyscrapers, railway terminals. He
was a heavy-shouldered, big-chested man, but not sluggish.
There was a quiet humor in his eyes, a syrup-smooth
quickness in his speech, which intimidated politicians and
warned reporters; and in his presence the most intelligent
scientist or the most sensitive artist felt thin-blooded,
unworldly, and a little shabby. He was, particularly when
he was influencing legislatures or hiring labor-spies, very
easy and lovable and gorgeous. He was baronial; he was a
peer in the rapidly crystallizing American aristocracy, inferior
only to the haughty Old Families. (In Zenith, an Old Family
is one which came to town before 1840.) His power was the
greater because he was not hindered by scruples, by either
the vice or the virtue of the older Puritan tradition.
171
Sinclair Lewis
McKelvey was being placidly merry now with the great,
the manufacturers and bankers, the land-owners and lawyers
and surgeons who had chauffeurs and went to Europe.
Babbitt squeezed among them. He liked McKelveys smile
as much as the social advancement to be had from his
favor. If in Pauls company he felt ponderous and protective,
with McKelvey he felt slight and adoring.
He heard McKelvey say to Max Kruger, the banker,
Yes, well put up Sir Gerald Doak. Babbitts democratic
love for titles became a rich relish. You know, hes one
of the biggest iron-men in England, Max. Horribly welloff... Why, hello, old Georgie! Say, Max, George Babbitt is
getting fatter than I am!
The chairman shouted, Take your seats, fellows!
Shall we make a move, Charley? Babbitt said casually to
McKelvey.
Right. Hello, Paul! Hows the old fiddler? Planning to sit
anywhere special, George? Come on, lets grab some seats.
Come on, Max. Georgie, I read about your speeches in the
campaign. Bully work!
After that, Babbitt would have followed him through
fire. He was enormously busy during the dinner, now
bumblingly cheering Paul, now approaching McKelvey
with Hear, youre going to build some piers in Brooklyn,
now noting how enviously the failures of the class,
sitting by themselves in a weedy group, looked up to
him in his association with the nobility, now warming
himself in the Society Talk of McKelvey and Max Kruger.
They spoke of a jungle dance for which Mona Dodsworth
had decorated her house with thousands of orchids. They
spoke, with an excellent imitation of casualness, of a
dinner in Washington at which McKelvey had met a
Senator, a Balkan princess, and an English major-general.
McKelvey called the princess Jenny, and let it be known
that he had danced with her.
Babbitt was thrilled, but not so weighted with awe as to
be silent. If he was not invited by them to dinner, he was yet
accustomed to talking with bank-presidents, congressmen,
and clubwomen who entertained poets. He was bright and
referential with McKelvey:
172
Babbitt
Say, Charley, juh remember in Junior year how we
chartered a sea-going hack and chased down to Riverdale,
to the big show Madame Brown used to put on? Remember
how you beat up that hick constabule that tried to run us
in, and we pinched the pants-pressing sign and took and
hung it on Prof. Morrisons door? Oh, gosh, those were the
days!
Those, McKelvey agreed, were the days.
Babbitt had reached It isnt the books you study in
college but the friendships you make that counts when
the men at head of the table broke into song. He attacked
McKelvey:
Its a shame, uh, shame to drift apart because our, uh,
business activities lie in different fields. Ive enjoyed talking
over the good old days. You and Mrs McKelvey must come
to dinner some night.
Vaguely, Yes, indeed
Like to talk to you about the growth of real estate out
beyond your Grantsville warehouse. I might be able to tip
you off to a thing or two, possibly.
Splendid! We must have dinner together, Georgie. Just
let me know. And it will be a great pleasure to have your
wife and you at the house, said McKelvey, much less
vaguely.
Then the chairmans voice, that prodigious voice which
once had roused them to cheer defiance at rooters from
Ohio or Michigan or Indiana, whooped, Come on, you
wombats! All together in the long yell! Babbitt felt that life
would never be sweeter than now, when he joined with
Paul Riesling and the newly recovered hero, McKelvey, in:
Baaaaaattle-ax Get an ax, Bal-ax, Get-nax, Who, who?
The U.! Hooroo!
III
The Babbitts invited the McKelveys to dinner, in early
December, and the McKelveys not only accepted but, after
changing the date once or twice, actually came.
The Babbitts somewhat thoroughly discussed the details
of the dinner, from the purchase of a bottle of champagne
173
Sinclair Lewis
to the number of salted almonds to be placed before each
person. Especially did they mention the matter of the other
guests. To the last Babbitt held out for giving Paul Riesling
the benefit of being with the McKelveys. Good old Charley
would like Paul and Verg Gunch better than some highfalutin
Willy boy, he insisted, but Mrs Babbitt interrupted his
observations with, Yes perhaps I think Ill try to get
some Lynnhaven oysters, and when she was quite ready
she invited Dr. J. T. Angus, the oculist, and a dismally
respectable lawyer named Maxwell, with their glittering
wives.
Neither Angus nor Maxwell belonged to the Elks or to
the Athletic Club; neither of them had ever called Babbitt
brother or asked his opinions on carburetors. The only
human people whom she invited, Babbitt raged, were
the Littlefields; and Howard Littlefield at times became so
statistical that Babbitt longed for the refreshment of Gunchs,
Well, old lemon-pie-face, whats the good word?
Immediately after lunch Mrs Babbitt began to set the
table for the seven-thirty dinner to the McKelveys, and
Babbitt was, by order, home at four. But they didnt find
anything for him to do, and three times Mrs Babbitt
scolded, Do please try to keep out of the way! He stood
in the door of the garage, his lips drooping, and wished
that Littlefield or Sam Doppelbrau or somebody would
come along and talk to him. He saw Ted sneaking about
the corner of the house.
Whats the matter, old man? said Babbitt.
Is that you, thin, owld one? Gee, Ma certainly is on the
warpath! I told her Rone and I would jus soon not be let
in on the fiesta to-night, and she bit me. She says I got to
take a bath, too. But, say, the Babbitt men will be some
lookers to-night! Little Theodore in a dress-suit!
The Babbitt men! Babbitt liked the sound of it. He put
his arm about the boys shoulder. He wished that Paul
Riesling had a daughter, so that Ted might marry her. Yes,
your mother is kind of rouncing round, all right, he said,
and they laughed together, and sighed together, and dutifully
went in to dress.
The McKelveys were less than fifteen minutes late.
174
Babbitt
Babbitt hoped that the Doppelbraus would see the
McKelveys limousine, and their uniformed chauffeur, waiting
in front.
The dinner was well cooked and incredibly plentiful,
and Mrs Babbitt had brought out her grandmothers silver
candlesticks. Babbitt worked hard. He was good. He told
none of the jokes he wanted to tell. He listened to the
others. He started Maxwell off with a resounding, Lets
hear about your trip to the Yellowstone. He was laudatory,
extremely laudatory. He found opportunities to remark that
Dr. Angus was a benefactor to humanity, Maxwell and
Howard Littlefield profound scholars, Charles McKelvey an
inspiration to ambitious youth, and Mrs McKelvey an
adornment to the social circles of Zenith, Washington, New
York, Paris, and numbers of other places.
But he could not stir them. It was a dinner without a
soul. For no reason that was clear to Babbitt, heaviness
was over them and they spoke laboriously and unwillingly.
He concentrated on Lucille McKelvey, carefully not
looking at her blanched lovely shoulder and the tawny
silken bared which supported her frock.
I suppose youll be going to Europe pretty soon again,
wont you? he invited.
Id like awfully to run over to Rome for a few weeks.
I suppose you see a lot of pictures and music and
curios and everything there.
No, what I really go for is: theres a little trattoria on
the Via della Scrofa where you get the best fettuccine in
the world.
Oh, I Yes. That must be nice to try that. Yes.
At a quarter to ten McKelvey discovered with profound
regret that his wife had a headache. He said blithely, as
Babbitt helped him with his coat, We must lunch together
some time, and talk over the old days.
When the others had labored out, at half-past ten,
Babbitt turned to his wife, pleading, Charley said he had
a corking time and we must lunch said they wanted to
have us up to the house for dinner before long.
She achieved, Oh, its just been one of those quiet
evenings that are often so much more enjoyable than noisy
175
Sinclair Lewis
parties where everybody talks at once and doesnt really
settle down to-nice quiet enjoyment.
But from his cot on the sleeping-porch he heard her
weeping, slowly, without hope.
IV
For a month they watched the social columns, and
waited for a return dinner-invitation.
As the hosts of Sir Gerald Doak, the McKelveys were
headlined all the week after the Babbitts dinner. Zenith
ardently received Sir Gerald (who had come to America to
buy coal). The newspapers interviewed him on prohibition,
Ireland, unemployment, naval aviation, the rate of exchange,
tea-drinking versus whisky-drinking, the psychology of
American women, and daily life as lived by English county
families. Sir Gerald seemed to have heard of all those
topics. The McKelveys gave him a Singhalese dinner, and
Miss Elnora Pearl Bates, society editor of the AdvocateTimes, rose to her highest lark-note. Babbitt read aloud at
breakfast-table:
Twixt the original and Oriental decorations, the strange
and delicious food, and the personalities both of the
distinguished guests, the charming hostess and the noted
host, never has Zenith seen a more recherche affair than the
Ceylon dinner-dance given last evening by Mr and Mrs Charles
McKelvey to Sir Gerald Doak. Methought as we fortunate
one! were privileged to view that fairy and foreign scene,
nothing at Monte Carlo or the choicest ambassadorial sets
of foreign capitals could be more lovely. It is not for
nothing that Zenith is in matters social rapidly becoming
known as the choosiest inland city in the country.
Though he is too modest to admit it, Lord Doak gives a
cachet to our smart quartier such as it has not received
since the ever-memorable visit of the Earl of Sittingbourne.
Not only is he of the British peerage, but he is also, on dit,
a leader of the British metal industries. As he comes from
Nottingham, a favorite haunt of Robin Hood, though now,
we are informed by Lord Doak, a live modern city of
275,573 inhabitants, and important lace as well as other
176
Babbitt
industries, we like to think that perhaps through his veins
runs some of the blood, both virile red and bonny blue, of
that earlier lord o the good greenwood, the roguish Robin.
The lovely Mrs McKelvey never was more fascinating
than last evening in her black net gown relieved by dainty
bands of silver and at her exquisite waist a glowing cluster
of Aaron Ward roses.
Babbitt said bravely, I hope they dont invite us to meet
this Lord Doak guy. Darn sight rather just have a nice quiet
little dinner with Charley and the Missus.
At the Zenith Athletic Club they discussed it amply. I
spose well have to call McKelvey Lord Chaz from now
on, said Sidney Finkelstein.
It beats all get-out, meditated that man of data, Howard
Littlefield, how hard it is for some people to get things
straight. Here they call this fellow Lord Doak when it
ought to be Sir Gerald.
Babbitt marvelled, Is that a fact! Well, well! Sir Gerald,
eh? Thats what you call um, eh? Well, sir, Im glad to
know that.
Later he informed his salesmen, Its funnier n a goat the
way some folks that, just because they happen to lay up a
big wad, go entertaining famous foreigners, dont have any
more idea n a rabbit how to address em sos to make em
feel at home!
That evening, as he was driving home, he passed
McKelveys limousine and saw Sir Gerald, a large, ruddy,
pop-eyed, Teutonic Englishman whose dribble of yellow
mustache gave him an aspect sad and doubtful. Babbitt
drove on slowly, oppressed by futility. He had a sudden,
unexplained, and horrible conviction that the McKelveys
were laughing at him.
He betrayed his depression by the violence with which
he informed his wife, Folks that really tend to business
havent got the time to waste on a bunch like the McKelveys.
This society stuff is like any other hobby; if you devote
yourself to it, you get on. But I like to have a chance to
visit with you and the children instead of all this idiotic
chasing round.
They did not speak of the McKelveys again.
177
Sinclair Lewis
V
It was a shame, at this worried time, to have to think
about the Overbrooks.
Ed Overbrook was a classmate of Babbitt who had
been a failure. He had a large family and a feeble insurance
business out in the suburb of Dorchester. He was gray and
thin and unimportant. He had always been gray and thin
and unimportant. He was the person whom, in any group,
you forgot to introduce, then introduced with extra
enthusiasm. He had admired Babbitts good-fellowship in
college, had admired ever since his power in real estate,
his beautiful house and wonderful clothes. It pleased
Babbitt, though it bothered him with a sense of responsibility.
At the class-dinner he had seen poor Overbrook, in a
shiny blue serge business-suit, being diffident in a corner
with three other failures. He had gone over and been
cordial: Why, hello, young Ed! I hear youre writing all the
insurance in Dorchester now. Bully work!
They recalled the good old days when Overbrook used
to write poetry. Overbrook embarrassed him by blurting,
Say, Georgie, I hate to think of how we been drifting
apart. I wish you and Mrs Babbitt would come to dinner
some night.
Babbitt boomed, Fine! Sure! Just let me know. And the
wife and I want to have you at the house. He forgot it,
but unfortunately Ed Overbrook did not. Repeatedly he
telephoned to Babbitt, inviting him to dinner. Might as
well go and get it over, Babbitt groaned to his wife. But
dont it simply amaze you the way the poor fish doesnt
know the first thing about social etiquette? Think of him
phoning me, instead of his wife sitting down and writing
us a regular bid! Well, I guess were stuck for it. Thats the
trouble with all this class-brother hooptedoodle.
He accepted Overbrooks next plaintive invitation, for
an evening two weeks off. A dinner two weeks off, even
a family dinner, never seems so appalling, till the two
weeks have astoundingly disappeared and one comes
dismayed to the ambushed hour. They had to change the
date, because of their own dinner to the McKelveys, but at
178
last they gloomily drove out to the Overbrooks house in
Dorchester.
It was miserable from the beginning. The Overbrooks
had dinner at six-thirty, while the Babbitts never dined
before seven. Babbitt permitted himself to be ten minutes
late. Lets make it as short as possible. I think well duck
out quick. Ill say I have to be at the office extra early tomorrow, he planned.
The Overbrook house was depressing. It was the second
story of a wooden two-family dwelling; a place of babycarriages, old hats hung in the hall, cabbage-smell, and a
Family Bible on the parlor table. Ed Overbrook and his
wife were as awkward and threadbare as usual, and the
other guests were two dreadful families whose names
Babbitt never caught and never desired to catch. But he
was touched, and disconcerted, by the tactless way in
which Overbrook praised him: Were mighty proud to
have old George here to-night! Of course youve all read
about his speeches and oratory in the papers and the
boys good-looking, too, eh? but what I always think of
is back in college, and what a great old mixer he was, and
one of the best swimmers in the class.
Babbitt tried to be jovial; he worked at it; but he could
find nothing to interest him in Overbrooks timorousness,
the blankness of the other guests, or the drained stupidity
of Mrs Overbrook, with her spectacles, drab skin, and
tight-drawn hair. He told his best Irish story, but it sank
like soggy cake. Most bleary moment of all was when Mrs
Overbrook, peering out of her fog of nursing eight children
and cooking and scrubbing, tried to be conversational.
I suppose you go to Chicago and New York right
along, Mr Babbitt, she prodded.
Well, I get to Chicago fairly often.
It must be awfully interesting. I suppose you take in
all the theaters.
Well, to tell the truth, Mrs Overbrook, thing that hits
me best is a great big beefsteak at a Dutch restaurant in
the Loop!
They had nothing more to say. Babbitt was sorry, but
there was no hope; the dinner was a failure. At ten, rousing
Sinclair Lewis
out of the stupor of meaningless talk, he said as cheerily as
he could, Fraid we got to be starting, Ed. Ive got a fellow
coming to see me early to-morrow. As Overbrook helped
him with his coat, Babbitt said, Nice to rub up on the old
days! We must have lunch together, P.D.Q.
Mrs Babbitt sighed, on their drive home, It was pretty
terrible. But how Mr Overbrook does admire you!
Yep. Poor cuss! Seems to think Im a little tin archangel,
and the best-looking man in Zenith.
Well, youre certainly not that but Oh, Georgie, you
dont suppose we have to invite them to dinner at our
house now, do we?
Ouch! Gaw, I hope not!
See here, now, George! You didnt say anything about
it to Mr Overbrook, did you?
No! Gee! No! Honest, I didnt! Just made a bluff about
having him to lunch some time.
Well... Oh, dear... I dont want to hurt their feelings.
But I dont see how I could stand another evening like this
one. And suppose somebody like Dr. and Mrs Angus came
in when we had the Overbrooks there, and thought they
were friends of ours!
For a week they worried, We really ought to invite Ed
and his wife, poor devils! But as they never saw the
Overbrooks, they forgot them, and after a month or two
they said, That really was the best way, just to let it slide.
It wouldnt be kind to THEM to have them here. Theyd
feel so out of place and hard-up in our home.
They did not speak of the Overbrooks again.
Chapter XVI
I
The certainty that he was not going to be accepted by the
McKelveys made Babbitt feel guilty and a little absurd. But he
went more regularly to the Elks; at a Chamber of Commerce
luncheon he was oratorical regarding the wickedness of
strikes; and again he saw himself as a Prominent Citizen.
180
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