stereotyped and static. Los Angeles was a happy contrast in all respects.
On registration day, Emma Lou rushed out to the campus of the University of Southern California one hour before the registrar’s office was scheduled to open. She spent the time roaming around, familiarizing herself with the layout of the campus and learning the names of the various buildings, some old and vineclad, others new and shiny in the sun, and watching the crowds of laughing students, rushing to and fro, greeting one another and talking over their plans for the coming school year. But her main reason for such an early arrival on the campus had been to find some of her fellow Negro students. She had heard that there were to be quite a number enrolled, but in all her hour’s stroll she saw not one, and finally somewhat disheartened she got into the line stretched out in front of the registrar’s office, and, for the moment, became engrossed in becoming a college freshman.
All the while, though, she kept searching for a colored face, but it was not until she had been duly signed up as a student and sent in search of her advisor that she saw one. Then three colored girls had sauntered into the room where she was having a conference with her advisor, sauntered in, arms interlocked, greeted her advisor, then sauntered out
