Three Days Before the Shooting ... (102 page)

“This has been quite interesting,” she said with a tense smile, “but I’m afraid
that I must disappoint you. Because here we have a strict rule that all appointments with the Senator must be made in advance. It is not my rule, but the Senator’s, and what’s more, I’m also afraid that the information you’ve supplied me simply doesn’t justify my setting up an appointment in the future. I will
not
break the rule and interrupt the Senator’s busy schedule.”

“But, ma’am,” the nigra Hickman said, “just as there’s a time for being born and a time for dying death, there’s also a time for rules, and a time for putting rules
aside
. Now is such a time. I’ve told you the truth: Our business is so urgent and so crucial to the Senator that we took time out to
fly
up here to see him. That’s just how urgent we think it to be. So if you would just say to him that Reverend Hickman is here with some important information I’m sure that he’ll forgive you for breaking the rule. What’s more, we only have to see him for a few minutes. You have my word on that. We won’t take up any more of his time than’s needed to impart our information and answer any questions he might wish to ask us. Then we’ll leave. And, ma’am …” the nigra Hickman paused, staring earnestly into her face.

“Yes?”

“Before you refuse maybe you ought to consider the possibility that our
not
seeing him might turn out to be much worse for everybody concerned than your breaking a rule.”

“Doctor Hickman,” the secretary said in a quivering voice, “I’ve noticed that while you hint around and use an awful lot of words, you actually
say very
little. Now who are you,
really?
And what is it that makes you feel that you have some special claim on the Senator’s time? I’d really like to know—and please, a straightforward answer! Are you his constituents? If so, you should take up your problem with your district leader. There are, after all, procedures for such matters, whether you know about them or not—”

And realizing that the big nigra was smiling and shaking his head the secretary stared with a reddening face.

“Forgive me, ma’am,” he said, “but the idea of our being the Senator’s constituents got to me. We’re anything but that, and what’s more, I doubt that he has anyone like us in his entire district. No, ma’am, the fact is that we’re
nobody’s
constituents, not even down there where we come from. You might say, ma’am, that while we’re sometimes among the counted we’re seldom numbered among the heard. Instead, the politicians herd us around according to their
own
political interests and seldom ever listen to how
we
feel about it. And I doubt if that holds true of the Senator….”

And with the words “herd” and “heard” echoing in her ear the secretary thought, Why, this nigra’s insulting me with
double-talk!

“No,” she said, “and none of that justifies your seeing the Senator. Nor has anything else you’ve said, as far as
I
can see. But if you’re sincere you’ll give your information—whatever it is—to me, and I’ll pass it along to the Senator. So tell me now:
What is this all about?”

Searching her face with a grave show of patience, the nigra Hickman paused as though weighing his answer.

“Ma’am,” he said, “I’m sorry, but since it’s his business rather than ours I’m afraid I’ll have to leave that to the Senator to explain. All I’m free to say, and I’m truly sorry that I can’t tell you more, is that it’s urgent, and a matter of …”

“Now please don’t tell me that it’s a matter of life or death,” the secretary said as she threw up her hands in mock alarm, “because it simply won’t work!”

“Ma’am,” the nigra Hickman said, staring down, “I wasn’t about to say anything about it being a matter of life or death. I honestly wasn’t. But who really knows? In this world some things appear to be but aren’t, while others appear not to be—but, lo and behold, they are. The Scriptures tell us that in life we are in death, and in death there is life …”

“… Everlasting,” a voice from the group added solemnly.

“Amen!”

“And that’s the Lord’s complicated truth!”

“You said it!”

“… But ma’am,” Hickman continued, “you can rest easy in the knowledge that we didn’t come all the way up here to waste anybody’s time playing games….

“… Amen!” …

“… Neither did we come here asking for political or any other type of favors,” the big nigra said as he paused and gestured for silence from those behind him. “And if you have his interest at heart you’ll believe me. All you have to do is step into his office and tell him that we’re here to have a brief word with him…. That we—Why, yes, that’s right!”

Suddenly the nigra Hickman’s face brightened as though he’d stumbled on the solution to a difficult problem. And with a quick glance at the nigra on his right he smiled as though sharing a profound revelation.

“Ma’am,” he said with a smile, “it just came to me that the best and quickest way of getting the importance of our presence across to the Senator is for you to say to him, ‘Mister Senator, Hickman has finally
arrived
.’ If you put it to him in those exact words it won’t be necessary to tell him that our message is important, because he’ll recognize it for himself….”

“… And, honey,” a tall, fierce-looking, black-skinned woman interrupted, “that there’s the truth if you ever heard it told! Yes, and while you’re at it, you can tell him also that not only is Revern’ out here waiting to see him, but that Deacon Wilhite and …”

Hickman turned, saying, “Sister Bea!”

“… That’s right, dahling,” the woman said, “tell him that Deacon Wilhite, Sister Wilhite, and all the rest of us is …”

“… Sister Bea,” Hickman said, “the lady …”

“… What I mean, honey,” the woman said, “is that you can tell him that we have
all
arrived!”

“Now that’ll be enough, Sister Bea,” Hickman said. “The lady understands that I’ve been speaking for all of us—you included.”

“Well now, Reveren’,” Sister Bea said, “I’m sorry, but I was only trying to save precious time. I apologize—and to you too, miss….”

But the damage was done. At the nigra woman’s interruption the secretary went rigid with rage. These were nigras such as she had known during her childhood—and old ones at that; people whose lives in Georgia had to have disciplined them in the traditional attitudes and manners that governed relations between themselves and those of her own race and status. And yet, after having barely set foot in the District of Columbia, here they were trying to take advantage of what they doubtlessly considered to be “Northern” freedom and were deliberately violating the traditional code that had been developed—and under the most difficult of social and political conditions—to guide them in dealing with their superiors. And now, pretending to apologize, they were playing that disgusting nigra trick of looking humble while
acting
uppity! Worse, one nigra wench had so forgotten her place as to begin giving orders! They should have been thrown out the moment she saw them, but against her better judgment she had entertained the possibility that barging in unannounced they were simply from the country and ignorant. But now something in their attitude, and especially in that of the nigra Hickman, confirmed her initial suspicion. The nigra was using his double-talk to imply a relationship with the Senator which not only negated her authority, but left her without voice or substance. Indeed, they now appeared to be staring straight through her with eyes that focused upon some mysterious arrangement of human possibility which they assumed to be hidden beyond the door behind her.

These nigras are treating me as though I were a child, she thought, and was taken with a dream-like sensation of having plunged through a trapdoor and jolted to rest upon a platform which was bouncing and teetering just below the eye level of the shortest member of the group, a little black woman from whose chin white scraggly hairs protruded, while looming above her head the others were waiting with calm nigra faces. And now, trembling inwardly, she had a fleeting sensation of looking upward into the faces of a delegation of dark-skinned foreigners who had wandered in by mistake and were attempting to find their direction through a burly old whiteheaded spokesman whose command of English was so faulty that he failed to grasp the meaning of anything she had been attempting to say. Then, seeing that two of the old women were waving palm-leaf fans in a slow, undulating motion as though defying the room’s air-conditioning, it came to her that behind their words and manner the nigras were stalling. Yes, they were hanging around in the hope that by keeping her occupied the Senator would notice her extended absence and step out of his office. If so, they’re terribly mistaken!

“Ma’am,” the nigra Hickman was saying, “I realize that our pressing you to let
us see Senator Sunraider might seem impolite, so I apologize. But as you know, ma’am, things aren’t always what they appear to be. Time is running out so now we’re
begging
you to take us on faith and let us see him.”

“Yes,” she said, “you have indeed been
most
impolite. And what makes it worse is that you realize it. Not only have you taken up far too much of my time but I’m sure that it must have occurred to you by now that the Senator isn’t here—not to say that it would have made a difference if he were….”

And as she paused the nigra Hickman recoiled as though slapped in the face, saying, “Ma’am, did you say that the man isn’t
here?”

“Yes, I did, and you’ll have to take my word for it.”

“But, ma’am, I called from the airport and was told that he was talking on another phone….”

“I can’t help that, the fact is that he isn’t here, and now I am asking you people to vacate these premises!”

“Very well, ma’am,” the nigra Hickman said in a voice tense with emotion, “but you could have saved us all a lot of time and trouble by telling us that in the first place. While you’ve been wasting time the matter we came here to see the Senator about has gone on developing, so whether you believe it or not
he
needs to know about it. Why are you making it so hard for us?”

“… Because she don’t know what she’s doing, that’s why,” the tall wench said. “If ignorance was money that woman would be a multimillionaire!”

“I will not be referred to in that manner,” the secretary said, “I simply will not!”

“I apologize for the sister,” the nigra Hickman said, “and we accept your word that he’s not here. But before we go, maybe you’ll tell us how to reach him by telephone. Would you just do that? Because given the little time we have left it might even be better that way. We can give him our information, and if he doesn’t want to see us it’ll be up to him.”

“Doctor Hickman,” the secretary shrilled, “I wish you’d tell me what it is that I can say that will make you understand that I am
not
going to allow you to break into the Senator’s schedule. It is
im-
possible! He is
unavailable
!”

“Brother Alonzo, are you going to just
stand
there and let that woman speak to you in that tone of voice?” Yes, it was the tall wench again, who now pushed forward as she said, “I’m getting sick and tired of her talking to us like she’s that man’s mama!”

And seeing the nigra Hickman turn to the impudent wench the secretary whirled and rushed to her office; where, slamming and locking the door behind her, she snatched up the telephone and called the security force for assistance. Then, still fuming with outrage, she stationed herself close to the door and stood listening until the guard arrived and then rushed out and demanded that he clear the reception room.

Rushing into the reception room the guard who accompanied them there
stared into the secretary’s face with his hand on his holster as he waited to be told what the Negroes (who seemed relatively calm) had done. But receiving no explanation he opened the door and pointed.

“All right, folks,” he said, “let’s do it the easy way.”

And with a nod from the big Negro the group began moving out as quietly as they had upon entering.

And now, looking out through the doorway, the secretary watched as they filed past the waiting Hickman and headed for the elevator; then, as the last old man passed through, lugging the trombone case, she saw Hickman turn to face her and was struck by his sheer height and girth as he loomed in the doorway.

“Miss Pryor,” he said, “I’m afraid that you’ve made a grave mistake. Because whether you believe me or not the Senator does know us, and given the circumstances he’d want—”

“
… Knows
you,” the secretary said, hearing the rising of her voice, “KNOWS YOU! Why, I’ve heard the Senator state quite definitely that the only colored he knows is the boy who shines shoes at his country club!”

“Is that right,” Hickman said with his head cocked to one side. “Well, ma’am, if that’s what he says I won’t dispute it. Anyway, we apologize for causing you trouble, and I want you to know that it’s only been because we think that it’s to the Senator’s interest to know that we’re here on the scene. It really is, and I hope you’ll tell him that we have arrived. And soon, ma’am, because otherwise it might be too late….”

There was no threat in his voice, only an echo of that odd, resigned sadness which she had detected in the faces of the other nigras just before the guard ordered them out of the room.

“Good day, ma’am,” Hickman said, and was blotted from view by the closing door.

In the hall the group exchanged no words as they followed the guard, who, turning now to Hickman, said, “What was
that
all about? What got her so upset?”

“Maybe a case of mistaken identity,” Hickman said. “Or a loss of memory. All I really know is that we asked to see the man for a few minutes but for some reason she refused us.”

“Well,” the guard said, “being strangers I guess you haven’t heard about the Senator.”

“I guess we haven’t,” Hickman said; “I guess we haven’t.”