Bell arrived at the office that Lane shared with Kent, with his camera bag over his shoulder to see her sitting at a microfilm reader, a newspaper page on the screen. The door was open so he rapped lightly. "Morning," he said
She looked up and smiled. "Come in, Paul. Have a seat. I am looking over some things about Chinatown," she said.
Bell noticed that Lane was reading one of the old Chinatown Gazette articles on Chinatown. Obviously, the Daily Planet had a well developed morgue, not only of their own paper, but of others as well.
"Thirty one thousand thousand two hundred and three people in Chinatown according to the 1940 Census. Nineteen thousand, seven hundred and twenty people who speak English in the home of those of Chinese ancestry." Lane read for a few seconds and looked up again. "There are three thousand and fifty-nine Indians?"
"Um-hmm," Bell answered. "I know some of them. They came looking for work because of the Depression. I think that a lot of them like the idea that most of the community looks more or less like them. American Indians and Chinese don't look the same, but there are some similarities. There are a lot of Indians that have some White blood. I have been mistaken for an Indian from time to time. The Indians are mostly Eastern Indians. I don't think hardly any of them are from any farther west than Oklahoma. They are pretty close with their home reservations. Most of them make at least one trip a year back home."
"Isn't Lenape the tribe our state is named after?" Lane asked.
"Yes ma'am and there are some Lenape in Chinatown." he answered. "I've looked at those numbers. Bear in mind, people have moved in since the census. I know that there are quite a few Chinese American families that aren't from the South, but of the Chinese Americans, they are the minority. There are about eighty of my people in Chinatown. That counts wives and kids. Except for one family, all of the Anglo Burmese fathers came through Hawaii and work for Mr. Pang, my father included. Mr. Pang is big on selling his board games abroad. There are some Asian Indians. Not all of them, but most of them are refugees and they do stick to themselves. I think it is because most of them are Hindus or Sikhs and the parents don't want their kids to assimilate too much. That was my impression when I dealt with them in school. There are some American Gypsies that live there. Most of them tend to be transient. Almost everybody else is either a refugee or their American born kids. We have Asian refugees from a lot of different places that the Japs have attacked. Don't ask how they got her with the anti Asian laws."
"You went to school with the refugee kids? What were they like?"she asked.
"I went to school with some of them. If there is one trait that almost all Asians have in common is that education is highly valued. A lot of the Chinese Americans grew up with stories about their grandparents and great grandparents struggle with English and to actually see others going through it gets to some of the kids. A lot of kids try and help as much as possible, especially with the Chinese kids who don't speak English. American born kids of refugees are usually fluent in English after the first grade," Paul said.
"You know your stuff," Lane said.
"When you work for a paper that covers that stuff so extensively, it is hard not to know it. We better get going," he said, looking a the clock. As she put on her coat, Clark Kent entered the room with a disturbed expression on his face and sat at his desk.
"Something wrong, Mr. Kent?" Bell asked, concerned.
"It has to do with an expose that I'm working on. It is confidential so I can't tell you about it. Have a nice day, you two," he answered.
Lois and Bell went to the garage and got into her car. As they pulled onto the street, to make their way to Chinatown, traffic was heavy. It had not snowed last night and the temperature was about thirty degrees. Until they got out of downtown, it was bumper to bumper. While Lane concentrated on driving, Bell looked everywhere. "You are looking like the kid from the country and this is your first time in the city. I thought you were born in Metropolis." she said.
He looked abashed. "I was born here. I've not seen this part of the city from the street, before. Most of the time, I'm riding the subway or the bus. This is the first time that I've seen downtown from a car. It looks different than what I'm used to," he replied.
As they left downtown they started entering established ethnic neighborhoods. Irish, German, Jewish, Italian. "I wonder how that works, a Jewish neighborhood next to a German and an Italian neighborhood," Lois mused.
"I've never heard of any riots. Have you?" Paul commented.
"Good point," Lois replied.
As they headed passed the neighborhoods, they entered an industrial area. Entering the borough of Hobbs Bay, Lois noticed that she was low on gas.
"How much do you want?" Bell asked as soon as the car stopped at a gas station.
"Fill it, please," she answered.
He started to pump the gas when a man yelled, "Hey! what do you think you're doing? Can't your read! Whites Only!" A man came charging at Bell with a crowbar. Bell quickly steps between the island to get some distance. Lois starts to yell at the man but he ignored her. "Crazy Indians! This is a White's Only establishment!"
His diatribe was interrupted by Superman landing in front of him. Taking the crowbar Superman twisted it into a pretzel and tossed it onto the roof of the building. Superman glared at him, but the man didn't back down.
Bell went from nervous to amazed. Here was the Man of Tomorrow right in front of him, defending him! Lois Lane went up to Superman and started telling him what happened when he said that he saw it from the air.
"You do realize that attempted murder is against the law?" Superman said ominously.
"So's what he's doin' and no jury would convict me. So go ahead Mr. Law and Order! Call the police!" He walked around Superman and took the nozzle out of the car and looked at Lois. "That's thirty cents, Why a White Woman would associate with such trash is beyond me."
"Pay this...person Lois, before I lose my patience," Superman said disgustedly.
QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ
"I have never seen anyone as bad as that guy." Bell said when they were on the road. "Restaurants are one thing, but my dad has never had trouble getting gas."
"That man would have brained you! Paul, I'm sorry. If I had thought something like that would happen..." she began.
"I didn't think about it either. Besides, it doesn't happen every day. Did you see the way Superman twisted that crowbar? That was just way too keen! I can not believe that I got to see that!" Paul said, excitedly.
"I've seen him do things like that for years. It never gets old." she replied. If he wanted to drop it, maybe she should, too.
"You know, you're not the kind of person that I thought you'd be," Paul blurted.
"What kind of person did you think I would be like?" Lois asked.
At this point, Paul felt that he had stuck his foot in it. He had been thinking about how Lois didn't match his preconceived notions. He normally wouldn't have said anything, but he was still full of adrenaline and he had said more than he had intended
After a moment's silence, Lois asked,"Well?"
"I don't know. I have read a lot of your stories and I always figured that you would have to be tough as, I don't know, Torchy Blaine, I guess," Paul answered.
"Torchy Blaine, huh?" she chuckled. "I used to be very much like Torchy Blaine, once. I'm still as tough as she is, but over the years, I have learned that being as tough as a man doesn't mean that I should act like one. I made that mistake when I started out. To be a good investigative reporter requires the ability to get people to talk to you, to confide in you. Men want to talk to women. They want to confide in them. That doesn't mean that I act like a tart. I would never do that. The trick is the ability to ask the right question the right way to get the information that you need. Investigative reporting is very psychological. Men do it one way and women do it another. Once I realized that is when my career took off."
Fifteen minutes later, they drove under a train bridge and entered another world. "Welcome to the Foreign Section of Metropolis," Paul Bell said. They drove past row upon row of tenement housing interspersed with factories and some small businesses, many with signs in both English and various other languages. Poverty was obviously everywhere here. Having just come out of the Depression, both of them were used to seeing extreme poverty.
"I wonder how these people get along?" Lois asked rhetorically.
"Not well. Most of these people have fled either Hitler or Stalin, but that doesn't make them friends. In fact, a lot of them are traditional enemies. Poles hate the Russians. Serbs and Croats hate each other. Greeks and the Armenians hate the Turks who hate them back. Loads of people with loads of Old World hatred. Oh, almost everyone here hates the Jews. The Jews that do get in, President Roosevelt won't let most of them in, live in the more established Jewish neighborhoods. It's safer. Take a left at the next block." Bell said
Several minutes later they enter another industrial area. As they got to the other side, Bell said, "Welcome to Chinatown."
Bell gave directions to his church. They parked in the church parking lot and approached the front door. Lois saw a Dedication Date written into a concrete slab by the door. Metropolis Chinatown Presbyterian Church Dedicated May 11, 1941. "This church building is new!" she said
"Yeah, it is. Right this way," Bell led her into the building. She could see that the sanctuary was through a set of swinging doors straight ahead. To the right was a set of stairs that went down to a lower level. "That leads to our fellowship hall, kitchen and Sunday School classrooms. This way." Just past the stairs was a closed office door with the blinds pulled. Bell rapped lightly on the window and opened the door. "Okay to come in?"
A woman's voice answered, "Oh Paul! Come in. Is this that reporter? I didn't know that there were lady reporters. Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I hope that I didn't offend you!" the woman behind was in her mid-thirties. What caught Lois off guard was that the secretary was an Oriental-Negro mix.
The other woman's apology gave Lois the time to compose herself. "There aren't a lot of women who are reporters so I can understand your surprise." Lois extended her hand. "Lois Lane."
The other woman looked surprised but took her hand. "Ruby Peete. Nice to meet you. Pastor Deng is in a meeting that is running a little late. Have a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"Yes, thank you," Lois answered
"How do you like it"
"Cream, one sugar." Lois answered.
"I prefer sugar without cream," Bell said
"You, young man are too young to be drinking coffee," the woman said entering the next room. From the other room, they could hear her continuing on. "You kids think that you have to grow up so fast. My Leon is just like you. He is a year younger than you but he has got to rush and drink coffee and rush and get a part time job, after school." She came in and handed Lois a cup of coffee and she gave Paul a cup of hot chocolate. "When I was a girl, I had to grow up fast. I married just after I turned eighteen and had my Leon after I turned nineteen. Not that I regret marrying my Jonas, mind you, but you kids need to slow down and enjoy being kids!"
He took a sip. "I don't think that Hitler and Mussolini will let us do that," Paul said. By the look of her body language it was obvious that Paul had hit home. She was worried about just that. "Sorry," he said.
She waved it off. "God is in control right? Amos 3:6 and all that. right?" she was interrupted by the pastor's office door opening. Two parents and what looked to be a daughter in her late teens or early twenties came out of the office. They smiled and left the office.
Another man came out and introduced himself as Clifford Deng, the church's pastor. He was a friendly man in his late forties. who was very wiry, with a trace of cigar smoke about him. Lois had never heard an Oriental speak with a Southern accent, before. Intellectually, it made sense, but for whatever reason, it didn't feel right to her.
When they were seated in his office, he turned to Paul. "Paul, you didn't see anyone leave my office today, did you?"
"Nooo sirr" Paul started to say slowly. "Iiii just saw Mrs. Peete give me some hot chocolate and Miss Lane some coffee."
"Good, Everyone needs to speak with the minister from time to time. Most of the time, it is best if it is confidential, Right?" he encouraged agreement.
"Absolutely," Lois said.
"Yeah sure. I didn't see anything,"
That settled, Deng smiled and said, "How can I help you?"
Lois went on to describe the kind of story that she wanted to write. He listened. "It sounds like you are writing two different stories. One story is about war refugees. The other story is about the Asian American community in the "Foreign Section of Metropolis."
"You think that you could arrange some interesting interview for both stories?" she asked.
"Let me make a few phone calls. I have an idea. We have a potluck on the first Wednesday night of the month as well as the third Sunday after church. Why don't you dine with us tonight? You can see how American most of us are. Maybe our aspiring photographer can even get a shot or two," Deng suggested.
She thought for a moment, "Sure, why not?"
"Okay. I have another question that I want to ask Paul. Have you run into any serious racial trouble at work?" he asked.
Bell described the conflict in the cafeteria and the altercation at the gas station. His voice got really animated when he described the actions of Superman. Pastor Deng was more focused on something else.
"Do you understand why those Negroes were laughing at you?" he pressed.
"Because they were jerks?" Paul guessed.
"No. Those Negroes and those Irishmen were both in the grip of the same sin: envy. Envy is not covetousness. Covetousness is wanting what you can't have. Envy is destroying what the other person has because they can't have it. Those Negroes wanted to tear you down because they couldn't sit where you could sit. Those Irishmen were trying to tear you down because they are low in the racial pecking order of White society and by tearing you down, they think that it makes their status in life more secure. Envy is a greater temptation for a poor person than a rich person. Envy is a form of murder. As a minister, it is one of the regular sins that I have to point out. I want you to think about that and we will talk more about it, later. Now, if you and Miss Lane will wait in the office, I will make some phone calls."
"I do have one last question that I haven't had a chance to ask. Are there any Jap Americans in Chinatown. It might be interesting to interview them." Lois asked.
Pastor Deng looked away for a second. "Except for the kids in the orphanage, I haven't spoken to a Jap American since I was fifteen years old living in Memphis. That's where I grew up. I moved here in 1932. I don't know of any Jap Americans living in Metropolis other than some of the orphans."
There was a moment of silence before Paul spoke up. "Um Miss Lane. Can I talk to Pastor Deng for a moment please." Bell asked. They shared a glance and she left the room.
Bell felt awkward. His pastor was lying to him and he had to call him on it. Pastor Deng was shutting down He stared straight ahead. "How can I help you, Paul?" he asked innocently.
Bell held his breath for a second. "She is wondering why you lied to her. She is a first rate reporter. If I could see that you were not being completely honest, so could she. She will probe if she thinks there is a story in it, too."
Deng covered his eyes with his right hand. " You're right. She will. All right, tell her this. I know one person who is half Jap. This person is ashamed of it and has nothing to do with anyone that is Jap. This person would not want to be interviewed. Tell Miss Lane that I'll apologize tonight. Now I need to make some phone calls."
Bell went into the lobby and told Lois what Pastor Deng had said. "I think it is a woman. He was so careful not to mention gender," Bell said as a clang from the coffee room. The went in to see if Mrs. Peete was all right to find her staring at them, the color drained from her face.
"It's you, isn't it," Lois said softly.
After a second she nodded. After they cleaned the mess, Mrs. Peete locked the door to the office. She looked at Bell. and said softly. "Are you going to tell?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Not even my parents," he said.
"No one picks their parents," Lois said.
"Tell me about it," she said bitterly. She sat at her desk. "My...mama, she wasn't the most moral woman. I guess you would call her a kept woman. I grew in Bronzetown. That's the Negro section of town nearest the Jap Consulate. My daddy was some kind of diplomat with the Consulate. When I was six, he went back to Japan and we never saw him again. Mama went from man to man after that. She died when I was twelve. Me and my three brothers finished growing up with our grandma. My two brothers just after me had the same daddy. My youngest brother had a Negro daddy, one of Mama's boyfriends. When I was sixteen a girlfriend got me to go to a church with her. After a few months I asked Jesus to save me from my sins. A few months after that, I met my Jonas. He said that since God had adopted me He was my daddy now, not some Jap who forgot about me years ago. About a month before I turned eighteen, Grandma died. We were sent to an orphanage. As soon as I turned eighteen I got out of there. It was a bad place," She started to sob. "Jonas married me, but he couldn't help my brothers. Three years later, the State let my two full brothers go into the navy together. They were twenty and seventeen at the time. My baby brother had to wait until he was twenty-one before they let him leave the orphanage. He couldn't join the navy when he was seventeen because of the Depression. He just drifts from job to job. He still lives in Bronzetown The other two are still in the navy. They all go from woman to woman just like their daddys."
"Miss Lane," she said. " I read the papers. I know folks are worried about sabotage. I don't know no Fifth Columnists."
Lois said, "I believe you," as Reverend Deng came out with the contact information for them.
The interviews went well. Lois called the paper and told White how it was going and that they would be attending the potluck tonight. When she hung up the phone, Paul asked, "What did he say?"
"He said to enjoy the potluck and to tell you that he didn't mind you getting out of a subway ride, but he was going to have you punched out at six. By then you should have some decent photos and that he is not paying you to eat," Lois answered.
On the way to the church, they drove past a small hospital. "That is new, too. Before Mr. Pang built it, everyone had to go to the city hospital in Kensington if they got sick. I was born at the city hospital."
When they returned to the church, it was a little after five o'clock. There was a small playground on the church property that several children were making use of. There was a streetlight to provide the lighting as it was already dark. The reflection off the dirty snow provided even more ambient lighting. They went to the fellowship hall where some older children were putting out place settings at the various tables. Delicious smells were coming from the kitchen along with the sounds of several women's voices.
"A lot of women bring the food here and cook it. Not everyone has cars and it is a lot safer than trying to carry a dish on a bus or an icy sidewalk," Paul explained. "There are also two stoves in the kitchen. That helps, too."
Over the next half hour Lois met a lot of the members of Paul's church. What surprised her was the normalcy of it all. It was like any potluck that she had ever gone to at her own church. She had almost gotten used to the Southern accdents of most of Chinatown. How Paul didn't have a Southern accent was beyond her. Pastor Deng came down shortly before food was being served. He indicated that he wanted to talk with them so they entered an unused classroom and he closed the door.
"I apologize for lying. I hope that you understand why. She told me that she told you. She is an excellent secretary. She works part-time so she can be home when her kids get out of school. She'd never help the Japs. She just doesn't want people to know. Since she is married, everyone assumes that her maiden name was Chinese and that is just the way she likes it," he explained.
"It will be kept in the strictest confidence," Lois said reassuringly. "So, she is not here?"
"No, she and her family live in Kensington. She attends a sister church there," he answered. "Let's eat."
Lois sat with Paul's family. She found the Bell family very gracious. "Is everyone in your church American born Chinese?" she asked.
"Except us? Nah. Some American Indians are also members. Other Anglo-Burmese and some Anglo-Indians come and a few others. There are even a couple of Asian Indian families that are Christian that come. Some of the Chinese refugees come and some refugees from other places come. See that guy over there?" Paul pointed to a man in his mid-twenties. "He is from French Indochina. His name is Thai Tran. He was a sailor on a French ship. When France fell to Germany, his ship was in Metropolis Harbor. Most of the ship's crew asked for Asylum. Since Japan has invaded his colony, he doesn't have anywhere to go. He lives with three or four of his former shipmates. I think that he is working as a janitor. Like I said, there are other refugees that come to church here too. Some more will be here before the night is over. This is the only home cooked meal that some of them get. Just a second, Hey Sonny!" he called out to an American Indian youth who had just walked into the room. "Had somebody else call me an Indian."
Sonny laughed and shook his head.
"Are you Miss Lane?" a boy of about twelve asked at her elbow.
"Yes."
"There is a phone call for you, a Mister White," he said.
As she stood, Paul rose, all business, and said, "I'll show you the nearest phone."
They made their way to the kitchen where the phone was off the hook. Lois could see that Paul wanted to listen in so she held the earpiece so they could both hear. "What's up Chief?" she asked.
"Is Bell with you?" he asked agitatedly
"Yes, sir," he answered.
"You said you were a photographer. Do you have your camera on you?" he asked.
"Yes, sir!"
"Lane, you and Bell get over to the Harbor Precinct House! You're the closest! I have it on good authority that Walter Lazenby is being arrested as we speak! Get a statement and if possible some photos. Got it!"
"Harbor Precinct House! Got it!," she said as the line went dead.
"You have film?" she asked.
"Absolutely!" He tapped his camera bag. "Let's grab our coats and go!" It took almost five minutes to for the window to be thawed enough to drive and almost half an hour to get across to the Harbor Precinct House. Bell pulled out his press badge an attached it to his coat.
"I'm glad Mr. Kent thought to give me this," he said.
"He did? Good. Don't ever tell him that I said this, but Clark does have his moments." Lane said "Here is the plan. Harbor doesn't have an enclosed parking lot like a lot of other stations, They have to bring him from across the street. Make sure the police can see your camera. That is key. Get the shot without interrupting the officers. That's how you start to make friends. If we are lucky we'll be first, but I don't expect us to be alone. Some of the other photographers and reporters will try and shove you around. You must not let them get you mad. If they can get to you they will do it forever. Here we are," she pulled into a parking spot. The got out of the car and walked up to the building. There were three steps to the door from the sidewalk.
They were the first there. They waited outside for almost ten minutes before the police car arrived. As soon as he had a view of the man in the back seat, Paul started shooting. He kept shooting until the police escorted the racketeer into the station all the while Lois was trying to get a statement. They followed the entourage of police into the station house. Paul kept shooting until they went passed a secured door.
"Now we wait for a statement," she said. After a while, other reporters started showing up. None were too happy that a girl had beaten them there with some Indian photographer. They started making racial comments towards him.
Bell went up to the desk sergeant. "Do you have a Colored restroom?" he asked
The sergeant pointed across the busy room. "Go to the end of the hall on the right."
"Thank you," He made his way to the sound of someone yelling. "Stay there!"
When he entered the restroom, he made sure it was empty. He changed out his film. hiding the precious roll in one of the paper towel dispensers. "Just in case," he said. He returned to the crowd. After a while someone says, "Hey I just learned that the Planet photographer got pictures of the arrest!"
"Hey guys! Early bird gets the worm! Be sure and buy a copy of the Planet tomorrow." Bell taunted.
"I don't think so," someone said behind him and that man grabbed for Bell's camera. A couple other reporters jumped in. Before the police could intervene, one of them ripped open the back of Bell's camera and pulled the film out. Dropping it to the floor he stomped on it to Bell's cries of outrage.
Four policemen intervened and separated them with threats to arrest them all if it happened again. The leader laughed in Bell's face and said. "All's fair in Love and Getting a Scoop!"
Lois came over and started to read the reporter the riot act to which he responded, "This is the Big Leagues, Sister," and walked away.
Still fuming, she asked if Paul was all right. "This is the Big Leagues," he said as he reloaded the film. "Let's get a statement."
Ten minutes later after listening to wisecracks from all of the other reporters, a police lieutenant came out with a statement. Bell took his picture as did all the other photographers. Lazenby the racketeer had been caught by using wiretapping to get the goods on him. He would be arraigned the next day at 10 AM on charges of racketeering, embezzlement and tax evasion.
A lot of the reporters rushed to the phone booths to call in the story. Lois was still disgusted. Paul knew he had to be careful. He wanted to burst out laughing but then the jig would be up. He had to look as angry as he could. He looked at Lois and said, "Why don't we call from somewhere else. I don't want to wait here till they get done."
"Why not. We didn't get anything that good anyway," she said dejectedly.
"You go warm up the car. I am going to step into the restroom," he said. She looked at him a little funny as if to say, didn't you just go? but she nodded and went outside.
As he turned, the photographer who smashed the film, came up to him and said,"Don't take it personal kid. Call it your baptism by fire. Name's Sloane. Gavin Sloane. Gotham Sentinel. We have been waiting for Lazenby to slip up for a long time, now. Once you earn your stripes, you'll learn how to keep your pictures. What's your name, kid?"
"Bell. Paul Bell."
"Well, Bell. Better luck next time," Sloane said and walked away.
Bell made his way to the restroom and used it. After drying his hands, he retrieved the film and slipped it into his pocket. He slapped the back of his hand five or six times to help wipe the smile off his face. He started thinking as many negative thoughts as he could. He knew that would help him get out he door. He kept his head down until he was on the sidewalk. He almost got to Lane's car when he heard Sloane shout, "BELL!"
Bell jumped into the passenger seat and yelled, "Step on it!" as he quickly locked the door.
Lois Lane, a veteran of many a high speed chase, put the car in gear and backed onto the street. she put the transmission in first gear as Sloane tried to open her door. She let out the clutch and started forward. Sloane lost his grip on the door handle and fell into the street. she stopped at the corner and looked over her shoulder. Three or four reporters were in the street and Sloane was on his feet gesturing angrily. She kept going.
"What was that about," she asked as they started toward the Daily Planet.
"Oh, I think that Mr. Sloane of the Gotham Sentinel just realized that he failed in his attempt to destroy my photos," Bell said casually with the biggest Cheshire Cat grin on his face.
"What!" she shouted. After he explained what happened they were both laughing. 'How did you know to do that," she asked.
"I saw it happen to somebody else, once" he replied.
Lois took a detour of a couple of blocks and found a pay phone and called White and told him that they might have pictures. The slight detour was necessary. Lois could envision the other reporters catching up to them if they stopped somewhere along the fastest route to the Planet. With Metropolis being such a big city. a slightly longer route pretty much assured they would get the pictures to the office.
When they arrived, Perry White escorted Bell and Lane to Developing while Lane briefed White. she then goes off to write her story. "Bell, whether these pictures turn out or not, you are going to get a little bonus for creative thinking. I would never have thought of using a Colored restroom like that," White said.
"I bet Miss Lane pulls that stunt all the time," Bell replied.
"You may be right about that. If she didn't before, she will definitely keep it as an option, now," White said.
"Uh, Mr. White if the pictures turn out, can I have a byline?" Bell asked and held his breath.
White looked at him , stared at him for a few seconds. Bell began to wonder if he had pushed too far.
"Yes," he finally said. "If they turn out, you deserve it."
Author's Note. Metropolis has been placed in several States over the years. It has been listed as being in Connecticut, New York, New Jersey and Delaware. The State that I am opting for is Delaware.
The Torchy Blaine movies followed the adventures of a fictional woman reporter. I saw a couple of them on television. The movies were made in this era, so Lois and Paul would both be familiar with the character.
At that time, legal age for a woman was eighteen and for a man was twenty-one. Mrs. Peete's brothers couldn't legally leave the orphange before they were twenty-one without legal permission.
French Indochina was a name for most of what we now call Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia.