From the time she entered the crowded room, Jane was unable to tear her eyes away from the speaker. He stood on the podium, above the noisy crowd, imploring them to be quiet. Lloyd Hammer, the man pictured on the flyer, held up his hands and waited for silence.
“It is vital to our country,” he shouted, “that we insist there be no involvement of either our men or our resources in this trouble in Europe.” His accent, with absent Rs, sounded strange to Jane’s New York ears, but she had no time to think about it as a roar of protest rose from the crowd.
“I have family there,” shouted one man. “We can’t ignore them.” Several people echoed his protest.
Lloyd Hammer held up his hands. “We must,” he said, as the assembled people quieted. “We have just struggled through an era of terrible poverty. We cannot and we must not risk losing what we have worked so hard to rebuild.”
Jane watched people turn to each other, questioning what they heard. She questioned it herself. The thought of ignoring the dreadful trouble in Europe went against her principles and her upbringing. Her father, while too old to have fought in the Great War, had several younger cousins who had, of whom he was exceptionally proud. It was at the wedding of one of them that he had met Hope, a woman who, even though much younger than he, shared his concern for the downtrodden of the world. From everything her father had told her, Jane could not imagine either of her parents agreeing with the man on the stage.
Yet he held her riveted, as he did so many others standing beside her.