Lanie Price: A Character Study (Part 3)
"Lanie is a brilliantly drawn character." —Caribbean Life
This is the final installment of a three-part study on Lanie Price, the society columnist featured in Darkness and the Devil Behind Me and Black Orchid Blues. I'll discuss what makes Lanie tick, what drives her and why she does what she does.
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Lanie Price
We see that Lanie is drawn to the darker side of life, but not because of any morbid fascination with death. It has more to do with the grief she carries from the loss of her husband and the empathy and compassion she has for those who likewise suffer.
This sense of compassion compels Lanie's relentless pursuit for answers. She simply cannot give up. Her tendency to become emotionally invested is perhaps one reason why she became so burnt out before. In Black Orchid Blues,, her desperate effort to save the life of Queenie Lovetree, the kidnapped cabaret singer, is a direct result of her having known the victim and having been present at the crime. Later, more events construe to draw Lanie deeper and deeper into the web of intrigue surrounding Queenie's abduction. In short, Lanie couldn't stay away if she tried.
But others don't see it that way.
Take Sam Delaney, for example. He's her editor and lover, and her often impetuous willingness to risk life-and-limb is of constant concern to him. His is the voice of reason. In Black Orchid Blues, he vents his worry and frustration.
"You keep running off, taking chances that could get you killed. You act as though you don't matter to anyone but you. Well, you do. You matter to a whole lot of people."
Before I could answer, he held up an index finger. "That's number one. Number two is that I am your boss, Lanie. It is my job to know your whereabouts. Your welfare, the welfare of everyone in that newsroom––is my responsibility. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, but …"
"But nothing."
Lanie, however, will not be silenced. She responds with an answer that makes her position perfectly clear:
I could feel my temper rising. "Staying safe is not why I got into this business." I cocked my head. "I've told you how much it means to me to not just cover parties, but did I say why I wanted to be a reporter to begin with?"
"I assume it was because you wanted to help people."
"Yes! I wanted to tell the stories that no one else would tell. Ida B. Wells and Nellie Bly, they're my heroes. I wanted to be like them: do important stories, significant stories. But the fact is, I'm a coward. I don't have Ida's guts to fight lynching or Nellie's courage to go inside an insane asylum."
He narrowed his eyes. "But you do."
"No, I don't. But every now and then I find a story that I do have the guts to cover. A story that could make a difference."
"And you think this is one of them?"
"Yes, I do."
Ida B. Wells Barnett
Lanie is unapologetic about the risks she takes. She tells Sam straight out that "staying safe" is not her primary concern as a journalist. What is, is a burning desire to "tell the stories that no one else would."
Significantly, Lanie considers herself a "coward," because she doesn't believe she has the guts to do what Ida B. Wells and Nelly Bly did.
Most people would agree that both Wells and Bly were willing to risk their lives for causes they believed in.
Take Wells, for example. In 1884, a train conductor in Memphis ordered Wells to give up her seat. She refused to budge, 71 years before Rosa Parks. It took three men to drag Wells off that train. Then she sued the railroad company. She was not a woman to give up.
Wells took up the struggle against lynching after three of her friends were murdered by a mob. For the rest of her life, she would persevere against threats to her life in order to write and speak out against lynching and the cover-ups that kept killers free.
Bly was cut from the same determined and courageous cloth. She faked insanity in order to be committed and wrote an eye-opening first-hand expose on the now legendary horrors of 19th-century mental institutions. She wrote about the sufferings of the working poor, especially women, especially factory workers.
Nellie Bly (1890)
In short, the work done by Wells and Bly was both dangerous and of national social significance. In Lanie's time, their names were synonymous with investigative journalism. They're Lanie's heroes, two women whose courage and refusal to compromise both inspire and guide her.
But what about common sense you might ask. Being an ardent admirer of Wells and Bly and determined to do good doesn't mean you have to give up common sense, does it?
I hear you. You're saying, "Like, let's keep it real. I mean, being brave is one thing, but getting in a car with a stone cold killer, that's something else, and doing so without telling anyone where you're going? I mean, is that necessary?"
I would say that yes, that act showed questionable judgment, but Lanie would say that she had a chance and she went for it. She would also say that under certain circumstances, common sense is a luxury one can't always afford.
I've seen male characters make extremely risky decisions and no one seems to bat an eyelash. No one talks about "common sense" or "being careful"; no one says "foolhardy" instead of "brave." As a matter of fact, we applaud them for their bravura, their willingness to forge ahead or take initiative even when faced with the risk of dire consequences. So I have to wonder. If Lanie were male, would people be so stunned at the risks she takes?
