Wives of Tomorrow
By Frances McDonald
Possible Delinquents
In certain cities the police have a list of girls filed as “possible delinquents”—not because those girls have as yet actually committed any crime—but because they have been seen repeatedly at dance halls. This system seemed to me at first, a bit unfair.
“Why do you call them ‘possible delinquents?’” I asked the Chief.
“Because that just describes them. They are girls who are looking for trouble—and will probably find it. They are girls who have good homes, and the best of training—perhaps too much training—but in any case they are deceiving their parents, and deliberately seeking an unsuitable environment—and one where they are thrown with undesirables of both sexes.—The next step is the delinquent stage. A quarrel at home—or a jam of some kind at some dance. We see it all the time. We have police women you know who do nothing but make friends around dance halls. They can come pretty near to furnishing a fair description of each of these girls and her name and address. Just as soon as they notice that such a girl has formed the acquaintance of any of the men we are watching, that fact is recorded, so the little enterprising miss who persuades her girl friend to accompany her to a dance hall need not think that she is unobserved. Her progress is closely watched and carefully noted—all for her own protection.” And the Chief’s jaw snapped.
Protection—yes—and the girl who goes to a public dance hall surely needs protection. But isn’t it rather a pity that she cannot know these things. And is it really fair to assume that because she goes she is the type that becomes eventually delinquent? I put that up to a woman attorney, who loves girls and has frequently defended girls whose own recklessness has brought them into court.
“Not as unfair as you might think. The girl who takes chances usually ends in court. We still have girls who get into autos with men they have never seen before. They have read of the fate of other girls who have done the same thing—but still they take the chance—and meet just the same fate—if not on the first occasion that they try it then on the next. Then it is the police, and the police court. The same is true of the girl who sneaks out at night to go to some dance hall. She may not be crooked—but is she really straight? And she is the sort of material that criminals find easy prey. She usually is stubborn—yet weak. Stubborn in having her own way—yet weak where any question of principle is involved.
“And she really is the type of girl who eventually gets into trouble of some sort or another—so the police are not far off when they meet the situation by filing her as a ‘possible delinquent’—for that is just about what she is.”
And that’s that. And yet to-night hundreds of girls will slip out, probably for the first time and because some other girl has urged it, and join the list of possible delinquents. Do these girls ever stop to think that they are possible wives? Do they forget that they re the wives of to-morrow? Isn’t that to-morrow deserving of a little thought—to-day?
If you are a girl with a problem too big for you—write Frances McDonald.
[Brooklyn Citizen, December 12, 1923.]
Possible Delinquents
In certain cities the police have a list of girls filed as “possible delinquents”—not because those girls have as yet actually committed any crime—but because they have been seen repeatedly at dance halls. This system seemed to me at first, a bit unfair.
“Why do you call them ‘possible delinquents?’” I asked the Chief.
“Because that just describes them. They are girls who are looking for trouble—and will probably find it. They are girls who have good homes, and the best of training—perhaps too much training—but in any case they are deceiving their parents, and deliberately seeking an unsuitable environment—and one where they are thrown with undesirables of both sexes.—The next step is the delinquent stage. A quarrel at home—or a jam of some kind at some dance. We see it all the time. We have police women you know who do nothing but make friends around dance halls. They can come pretty near to furnishing a fair description of each of these girls and her name and address. Just as soon as they notice that such a girl has formed the acquaintance of any of the men we are watching, that fact is recorded, so the little enterprising miss who persuades her girl friend to accompany her to a dance hall need not think that she is unobserved. Her progress is closely watched and carefully noted—all for her own protection.” And the Chief’s jaw snapped.
Protection—yes—and the girl who goes to a public dance hall surely needs protection. But isn’t it rather a pity that she cannot know these things. And is it really fair to assume that because she goes she is the type that becomes eventually delinquent? I put that up to a woman attorney, who loves girls and has frequently defended girls whose own recklessness has brought them into court.
“Not as unfair as you might think. The girl who takes chances usually ends in court. We still have girls who get into autos with men they have never seen before. They have read of the fate of other girls who have done the same thing—but still they take the chance—and meet just the same fate—if not on the first occasion that they try it then on the next. Then it is the police, and the police court. The same is true of the girl who sneaks out at night to go to some dance hall. She may not be crooked—but is she really straight? And she is the sort of material that criminals find easy prey. She usually is stubborn—yet weak. Stubborn in having her own way—yet weak where any question of principle is involved.
“And she really is the type of girl who eventually gets into trouble of some sort or another—so the police are not far off when they meet the situation by filing her as a ‘possible delinquent’—for that is just about what she is.”
And that’s that. And yet to-night hundreds of girls will slip out, probably for the first time and because some other girl has urged it, and join the list of possible delinquents. Do these girls ever stop to think that they are possible wives? Do they forget that they re the wives of to-morrow? Isn’t that to-morrow deserving of a little thought—to-day?
If you are a girl with a problem too big for you—write Frances McDonald.
[Brooklyn Citizen, December 12, 1923.]
posted by A. Mattson at 11:49 PM
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