“What? Are you thinking about that palm reader’s predictions, Mamie? Or, are you just using that as an excuse to lay some of that thigh on him?”
“If he’s the one the palm reader was talking about, I’ll lay it on him until he hollers, Leah. Until the boy absolutely hollers. He hasn’t ever had what I’m going to put on him. Hell, they don’t even have a name for it! You know at twenty, he’s still as hard as a rock and I’m going to hang on it like I was a coat. One hundred and thirty pounds of wildcat will wear his young ass out!”
“You’re crazy, Mamie!” Alice exclaimed.
Leah teased, “You better make that one hundred and fifty pounds, Mamie. It’s been a while since you danced in the chorus line.”
“But when I do dance, I always get applause,” Mamie asserted. The clinking of glassware and the sound of porcelain being scraped interrupted the conversation briefly.
“I think I’d like to see what that big man’s all about,” Leah said contemplatively. “What do you know about him?”
“Oh, I hear Aunt Iona calling me,” Alice complained. “Let me go see what she wants. You two can divide up the men between you.”
“I’ll save you a seat at the table when we eat,” Mamie offered. A minute or two of silence passed. Then Mamie said affectionately, “Poor Alice! She always seems to have problems finding good men. She lets her heart go in the presence of fools!!”
“Enough of her history,” Leah interjected. “Now, how about telling me about that big chunk of a man.”
“I don’t know much about him other than he was in the army with Jim,” Mamie answered. “I do know he’s only twenty-two or twenty-three years old. I wonder how did all these young guys get so much money?”
“He’s only three years younger than I am,” Leah said. “That’s nothing.”
Mamie countered, “Leah, please. I was with you when you celebrated your twenty-sixth last year. And I think that was the second time we celebrated it.”
There was no further conversation from the window. King smiled. He liked Mamie. Since he had arrived in New York, King had found himself going to prostitutes. The truth was that he did not understand the fast-moving New York women. He couldn’t figure out their motives or their actions. There were beautiful women around him all the time, some offering open invitations, yet he could not relinquish his guard. There was an instinctual fear of letting someone he did not understand within his defenses. When he paid for sex there was no personal investment, but all he got in return was purchased time. Inside him, there was a hunger for something more.
When Miss Mamie Walcott was asked to sing the “Star Spangled Banner” for the brave boys of the 369th, King took note.
A shapely, chocolate-skinned woman wearing a conservative, calf-length dress came up and stood beside the table. She began singing without preliminaries, starting off in a soft contralto, weaving her voice into the melody. She caught her audience by hitting some husky low notes. Then bar by bar she reeled them in, like a fisherman with a net. King was mesmerized like everyone else as she closed her eyes and threw back her head. Her next notes seem to hit the sky. King felt swept away, as if he were fifty feet off the ground, looking down upon his surroundings. Mamie ended the anthem by hitting the low notes once more. There was loud applause from everyone.
King had never heard the anthem sung so movingly. Mamie curtsied elegantly and then walked directly past him. He was still applauding when their eyes met. He smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgment of her effort. She nodded in return and headed for her friends.
“She’s got a voice, doesn’t she?” Jim asked as he ambled over to stand beside King.
“Like a bird,” King agreed. “I ain’t never heard nothin’ like it.”
Jim looked around at the surrounding people, some of whom were now eating from plates heaped with food. “There’s about five or six people here right now that know music better than Mamie Walcott, have more powerful voices, and have more talent in translating it than she does. Hell, damn near everybody here can sing. My Aunt Iona used to hit two octaves when she was in the choir. There’s talent bursting out at the seams and most of it will go unrecognized. It’s a daily tragedy. Talent is like a ladder, it’ll either take you up to God or down to Hell. It depends on how you use it.”
King thought Jim’s words over before he spoke. “Why, if there are people willin’ to pay, will they go unrecognized? There’s a thousand places that have music in New York.”
“Most of those places don’t pay a living wage. You can scrimp along on the edge of the entertainment world for years without ever making enough to pay two months’ rent in advance. That’s why my . . . er, our club is so important. I pay top wages to everyone. All I ask is that they be very good at what they do. Because the Rockland Palace has prestige, artists who work in it have the opportunity to be seen and make a name for themselves. I want the Rockland to be the birthplace of stars. The other thing that makes the Rockland important is that in all of New York, there are not many top-of-the-line cabarets that let our people in as part of the audience. Mostly, we provide the entertainment, serve, and clean up. The Rockland Palace is different. We welcome ladies and gentlemen of color. We give them the chance to see the best colored musicians, singers, and dancers that New York has to offer.”
Mamie Walcott walked over with two heavily laden plates. “You boys interested in eating?” she asked with a smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” King responded, taking a plate from her. “I appreciates yo’ kindness.”
Mamie nodded to him and turned to face Jim.
“Thanks, Mamie,” Jim said with a smile. “Have you met Sergeant King Tremain? He was in my company when we were fighting for the Red Hand in France. He was complimenting your performance.”
“Glad to meet you, Sergeant Tremain,” Mamie said, offering her hand.
“It’s my pleasure, ma’am,” King answered, taking her hand. “But just plain King Tremain will do. The uniform is gone, the man remains.”
“I see,” Mamie said, arching her eyebrows. She slipped her hand out of his and then turned into the milling traffic, heading for the tables where the food was set out.
“I need to sit down to eat.” Jim gestured to two spaces at the end of one of the tables. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to continue our conversation.”
King nodded. He knew that Jim wanted to talk about the situation with the Minettis. It was clear Jim didn’t want an out-and-out war, that he would rather pay. It wasn’t a question of courage. Jim had proven his mettle in the frontline trenches, under the constant bombardment of German cannon. The real problem was that King was not prepared to be slapped around or bullied and he knew of only one way to protect his dignity and his investment. He didn’t see any place to compromise and he realized that serious disagreements of this nature ended partnerships and occasionally friendships. King carried his plate toward the table. With each step his appetite diminished.
Although he knew a lot of people, King Tremain had very few friends. Jim Europe was both a friend and a mentor. King had no wish to force what he felt was inevitable and lose Jim’s friendship. Jim could concede security to him or buy him out. There wasn’t much else. King realized that they were approaching the matter from very different angles. To King it was a business matter, but to Jim it was a dream, a cause, a mission. King had learned through watching men die that if you wanted to live, passion didn’t matter. You had to take precautions.
“King,” Jim said in a low voice, “I need to know what you’re doing with the Minettis. I think I’m entitled to know what’s going on. I’ve got my heart and soul tied up in the Palace. I don’t want it lost over misunderstandings of what is important.”
“What’s important, Jim?”
“Remembering what we’re about. My grandfather used to say the way you tell who’s most intelligent is find the man who remembers what he is about longer than the others. So, what are we about here? Are we interested in carving a piece of territory out of the Minetti holdings or are we interested in providing a quality stage for colored performers and audiences? I’m interested in the latter. I’ve had my stint of warfare and I didn’t like it. My creative spirit just shriveled up and died. That’s why I was happy to transfer back to the band assignment after I was injured. I didn’t want to go back on the front line again. It killed something inside of me. Whatever it is, now it’s alive again and I don’t ever want to take a chance of killing it again. It might not come back.”
Jim stopped to wave at some new arrivals before he continued. “Have you been listening to my recent arrangements? I’m into something new. This music is part of the new jazz trend. Even LaRoca is copying my stuff. I am really cooking right now; the creative juices are flowing. I feel like this music is going to be heard all over the world.”
“What’s your point, Jim?” King asked.
“No amount of money is worth losing this spirit I feel. I mean, I hear the angels singing and I’ve been putting it on paper. I’ve got me a connection to God that I can’t risk breaking. I don’t have time to fight the Minettis! All I want to do is orchestrate my music and book shows at the Palace. The money isn’t important!”
“I said you could pay the next Minetti man that comes to collect,” King answered. “But now we’re in the middle of a fast-running stream. Ain’t no way to change directions now.”
“You sure there’s no chance they’ll hit the Palace?”
“If they do, it’ll be the Milanos and only because they think you’re in Minetti’s pocket. But I don’t think the Milanos will have time for that.”
“How do you know so much?”
“If you’re interested in soldierin’, I’ll tell you. If you just want to do your music, let me handle the security side of things.”
“You know they’ll kill everyone in my family if they find out?” Jim asked, looking straight into King’s eyes. “My aunt, my uncle, everybody they can find.”
“Ain’t gon’ happen,” King responded. “I’m keepin’ an eye on every turn. There ain’t nothin’ to lead them to us.”
“Isn’t there any way to stop what’s going on and just pay the money?”
“No. Anyway, they wouldn’t have stopped at a payoff,” King explained. “The men we picked up told us all about their plans. They wanted a big percentage of the business and they would’ve pushed you until they got it! You was gon’ get yo’ butt whipped a lot! And in the end they was gon’ take it over!”
Jim gave King an incredulous look. “They never took over the Clef!”
“They liked the Rockland, Jim. They wanted it,” King confirmed. “I heard the man say it myself.”
“I have no choice but to trust you, King. I sure hope you’ve got this as well thought out as you think.” Jim stood up and put his hand on King’s shoulder. “I’m trusting the lives of my family in your care.” He picked up his plate and walked away, leaving King with his thoughts until Big Ed sat down across from him.
“Smitty’s here,” Big Ed said quietly, “and he’s got some real news.”
“That’s right!” Smitty agreed as he sat down. “Solomon McGee’s been watchin’ the Minetti collection house like you ordered and he saw the Milanos hit it around noon today. They blew off the front door with dynamite and just fired their machine guns into the smokin’ building.”
“Damn! That means we ain’t gon’ be able to take them for a while,” King said with exasperation. “Did Cap find out from that man we dropped off where the Milanos’ collection house is yet?”
“No,” answered Smitty, “but we know the route the Minettis’ll take to collect their money from their different businesses. Since they can’t use their collection house, they’re using a van to make the cash pickups.”
“I think we’ll lay low for a while,” King said. “We don’t want to give either of them reason to think that maybe they had some help at killing each other. Cancel the meeting at your house, Smitty. We’ll get together next week at Cap’s. Let’s just go and enjoy the show tonight at the Lincoln.”
Smitty smiled. “That sounds good to me. If you don’t mind, I’m gon’ go over and play some bones.”
“Go ahead,” King said with a nod of his head. Smitty smiled again. His white teeth flashed against the dark brown contrast of his skin. King smiled in return and for a brief moment thought back to the day Slick was killed. He remembered how sunken Smitty’s eyes were on that day.
“You alright?” Big Ed questioned.
“Yeah, I’m just thinkin’,” King said.
“I see that big-leg girl, that dancer from the Palace. I’m gon’ go and talk to her,” Big Ed said, standing up. “I’ll catch you later.”
For nearly twenty minutes King watched the ebb and flow of the numerous shades of brown faces eating, laughing, and talking around him. He wished he could join them, but the luster of the afternoon had gone. Had he come by himself, he would have left, but he and Big Ed had come together. He felt the weight of Jim’s trust on his shoulders and knew that he would have to use all of his skills to keep Jim’s family from being in danger.
Aunt Iona came over to the table where King was sitting and said, “Young man, I need to clean off this table because the music is about to start. Do you mind moving?”
King rose. “No, ma’am, it ain’t no problem.” King left the house and went to find Big Ed and say good-bye to Jim Europe. He found Big Ed standing by the gate with Professor, Smitty, and Jim Europe. They were in intense discussion.
When King approached, Jim turned to him. “I’m not happy with this! I’m not saying that you’re not right about Minetti, but I tell you this, I don’t want any gunplay at the Rockland or around me! The minute that happens, our partnership is finished. My life is the music and I won’t let anyone taint that! I don’t want the gloom of war around me! I’ve got a booking in Boston for the orchestra coming up in a couple of weeks. We’re booked there for a month.”
“I plan on bein’ at the Palace regular like,” King advised Jim.
“Of course,” Jim answered. Jim offered his hand to King. “I know you’re probably saving my life, but I’m not happy with this. This isn’t what I dreamed. I’m going in to help my aunt clean up. I guess I’ll see you gentlemen later at the Lincoln.” He shook hands all around, then hurried away toward the house.