Three Days Before the Shooting ... (112 page)

“You told them, Chief; you said, ‘I’m a patient man of a patient people, but, hell, Judge, patience don’t mean
forever!
Time is growing short, so listen to what I’m saying! Look at our condition and see your mistakes and clean up this raping mess you been making of anything and everything!’

“And that’s when they hit you over the head and throwed you into the slammer! But then, Chief, God bless you, you served your time, and when they let you out, you went into righteous
action!
That’s when you struck a match like back there in ‘35 and ‘43 and led us in that mighty chorus of ‘BURN, BABY, BURN!’

“And when the buildings flamed and the windowpanes shattered and you saw that they
still
wasn’t paying heed to your warning, you turned the tables on the bastards by grabbing you a whole
gang
of those bitches and turning them inside
out—
and oh, what a mighty strategy and glorious tactic it was!

“‘Out, Out!’ you cried, ‘Life is but a raping shadow, therefore who’s to be or not to be, if we can’t be free? The tide has turned, the righteous soot has streaked the snow and time still marches, so we’re in time and in step with time! So what shall it be? You, or me, or us together?…’

“Chief, I tell you, I just sat there reading your confession—oh, no! That’s not what I mean! It was a great
oration!
That’s what it truly was! And there I was reading it and hearing it and laughing like crazy and crying like a baby! And my heart was breaking with pride and sadness…. And it was all because I understood for the first time what had happened to all our poor people who should have understood what you were trying to do. They should have learned the
lesson
you were teaching, but they let you
down!

“I know, because when they charged you with rape I gave up all hope and didn’t want to think about you anymore. I was so dumb and ashamed that I couldn’t think straight enough to work out the puzzle you were laying down for our instruction! Chief, that’s the truth! That’s the truth as I finally came to see it—no, Chief, wait! Don’t leave me now because I’m not
about
finished! There’s more to it—and please, Chief, don’t look at me like that! Forgiveness, Chief! I’m asking for
your forgiveness!
And after I’m through you don’t have to say a mumbling word, not even a smile if you don’t feel like it….

“Because I’ve been punished; yes, sir, I’ve been punished. After that trial I gave up and just lived from day to day, and I told myself that instead of being my true leader you were just one more hustler who’d come down with white-fever. So I tried to put it all behind me and lived my life in a hound-dog way—God damn it! It’s shameful but that’s what I did! I confess it! And not until I was reading that newspaper did I finally admit to myself that I was only that way on the surface. That’s right! It raised me from the dead and showed me the light! Because way deep down in my heart there was a part of what you had made happen that just wouldn’t die. I know it now, yes, sir! Because whenever I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, or maybe when I was sipping me a little taste of gin, the thought would come to me like a little voice way back in the rear of my head, and then the high hopes and excitement of the old days would come alive again, and I’d find myself thinking about you and getting worked up over how it used to be—the pride and the hope, I mean. That’s when your image would rise up and glow in my mind, and I could see you on the soapbox agitating, and leading those glorious marches! And I could see your gestures and hear your voice as clear as a bell! And that’s when deep down I’d truly feel the lost hope you gave us.

“But it wouldn’t last but a few seconds, and then I’d have to turn it off and think about something else. I simply couldn’t stand it! I couldn’t bear to think about those wonderful days and all we lost when they throwed you in jail. And especially when I considered that all that glorious promise was lost over some prissy pieces of poontang! Man, I tell you, that thing almost
killed
me! And in a way of speaking it did, ‘cause until only a minute ago when I happened to look out and see you walking along the street I’ve been a living dead man….”

“Dammit, Lee-roy,” Hickman heard suddenly from behind him, “you’re ‘bout the damndest fool in all D.C.! Here I been waiting to finish up with you and you’re out here fooling with some stranger! Leave that man alone!”

And now with mixed feelings of relief and distrust Hickman whirled, wondering what to expect next, and saw a short, rotund, freckle-faced man who wore a barber’s tunic with a fine-toothed comb sticking from its breast pocket.

“Oh, to hell with him, Chief,” Leroy said with a scowl and wave of his hand, “That’s Ivey, a cat who thinks cutting hair makes him some kind of philosopher….”

“Mister,” Ivey said, “you’ll have to excuse Lee-roy for hitting you with all that crap of his, because he don’t mean no harm, not really. It’s just that he’s what they call a ‘moon freak’—which means that when the moon’s in the full he simply can’t help but act the fool. Did he rough you up?”

“Why, no,” Hickman said, “but he’s certainly got me confused with someone I’ve never even
heard
about….”

“I know what you mean,” Ivey said, “‘cause when Lee-roy’s like this he’s apt to grab
any
big, well-dressed black man who comes along and insist that he’s
some cat who goes by the name of Chief Sam. Hell, Lee-roy ain’t even
seen
the man, he only heard about him from his
grand
dadd
y
who’s supposed to have run into him years ago somewhere out west. What’s more, Lee-roy’ll admit it when he’s normal. But when he’s like he is today he thinks every big, dark-complected fellow who comes along is some kind of cross between a conjur-man, a pimp, a prizefighter, a foot-racer—you name it—and some kind of chippy-chasing civil-rights leader—who
he
claims is operating somewhere underground. That’s just how scrambled he gets. It’s never a doctor, lawyer, educator, scientist, or judge—much less a politician, of whom we
do have
a few in Congress—hell, no! It’s got to be some cat who so far as anybody has been able to find out, has never even
existed
!”

“Aaaw, man,” Leroy said with an angry wave of his hand, “you are a
drag—
you know that? You’re a faithless drag! You got no vision and can’t even think from breathing all that hair and concentrated funk!”

“Yeah,” Ivey said, “I’m a drag because I want you back in my chair so I can finish with your butt! But now you better git moving, or else I’ma drag you over to St. Elizabeth’s and see to it that they give you some attention! I mean it, Lee-roy, so git moving! It’s either that or the cops—and you
know
you don’t want that to happen again, not after they caught you with your britches down orating and quoting the Constitution to your rusty pecker. And just look at the mess you’re making of that neck-cloth! You trying to look like some kinda A-rab or something? Come on!”

“Chief, you hear that,” Leroy said. “You try to bring our people a life-saving message and show ‘em the way out of all their confusion and they call you crazy! What the hell do I care about what those jokers at St. Elizabeth’s think! What the hell do
they
know?”

“… Come on, Lee-roy!”

“… Shit! Black people are the most complicated folks in the whole fucking
world
, but when those damn St. Elizabeth doctors come up against a man like me all they can do is put him down as a motherfucker! They think all the trouble in the world comes from some simpleminded crap like that! Hell, if that was the case all they’d have to do is round up all the motherfuckers and they’d have a perfect world—which they sho in hell don’t want—and if they did they’d still blame us when things went wrong….

“Anyway, Chief, it’s been a pleasure to see a truly great leader again and make my confession. Keep up the good work and I’ll keep doing my part in spreading your message!”

And now, turning to Ivey and moving away, Leroy frowned.

“Come on, man,” he growled, “and this time forget those moth-eaten Afros you been peddling and make sure you give me a true feather-edge!

“And yeah, Chief,” he said, turning back, “here’s something else that needs your attention! These young dudes of ours are being messed up, down, and
straight through the middle by wearing these Afros and platform shoes! They think they look proud when in fact they’re getting rump-busted and stoop-shouldered from carrying all that weight on their ignorant heads! Why is it that so many of our folks keep trying to substitute
hairstyles
for political action? Hell, after slavery was ended the old folks grabbed for the ballot. But today these young dudes grabbed the Afro like it was some kind of freedom. But while they swagger and strut and admire themselves the crackers just laugh and grab for more power! Hell, Chief, these young folks of ours are into
magic
and don’t even know it—hey! Watch it, man!”

And suddenly thrown off balance by Ivey’s yank on his arm, Leroy danced around the corner with a swaying, camel-walk wobble.

[CHRIST]

W
ATCHING THE BARBER’S NECK-CLOTH
disappear with a snap and a billow, Hickman turned, grasping the guardrail through a dream-like haze.

Hickman
, he thought,
what on earth did you do to deserve all of that? And with hundreds of big Negroes wandering around this town, why would he pick on
you
? Man, if I weren’t fully dressed and in my right I’d swear you’re dreaming!

Which was impossible, because the same brassy automobile horn was blaring as before Ivey snatched Leroy away, the street facing the building still filled with window-shopping people, and the odor of Leroy’s Mum and bay rum still clinging to his jacket. Yes, and his hands were clutching the brass rail from which Leroy had relieved himself of his wild confession. Yet something seemed missing, some teasing segment of reality lost in the wild encounter.

Then in a flashback he was dangling again in the air, but now through the translucence of Leroy’s tricolored skin he saw himself standing in the pulpit of a crowded church holding a Bible while conducting the funeral of a prominent minister. Then the scene fell apart, and as he stared down at the features of the corpse in the coffin the man’s face twitched with a sarcastic smile and became that of a child. Whereupon he felt himself being raised even higher and the scene was taken over by two women mourners who leaped from their seats in a whirling, veil-snatching, hair-pulling brawl. And as he stared at the blur of their air-flailing arms the coffin’s lid flew shut with a slow-motion fall….

Then through a crescendo of street sounds he was staring at the windowless wall of the building which towered beyond and above the guardrail. And with the disrupted funeral still vivid in his mind he recalled that the man dead had been a highly esteemed minister and the brawling women his girlfriend and wife. Then in a flash he realized that the man was not the minister. And struck by the incongruity of a dead man smiling and shrinking to a child in an adult’s coffin struck home he flooded with sweat, reached for his panama to wipe his
brow, and felt it slip from his fingers. And before he could move the hat teetered on the guardrail like a bird taking flight and swooped down to the area below him.

Grasping the guardrail in perspiring hands, he looked down to where his hat lay white in the shadows; and with a sigh of disgust followed the guardrail around to the steep flight of stairs that led down from the street, and with a sigh began making his descent through an updraft of cool air.

Now, reaching the bottom, he stood in the empty loading area of a courtyard that lay two full stories below the street and surprisingly larger than it had appeared from above. Against a nearby wall garbage cans humming with flies stood in the angle of nearby walls that were part of a vast open space, and to his right he could see ranks of white pillars that ended at a wall which loomed in the shadows; and to his left the open roofless space through which his hat had sailed extended to yet another wall that appeared to support the sidewalks which flanked the building’s side street and frontage.

What a waste
, he thought as he looked around,
what a waste!
And in stooping to retrieve his panama he looked up to find himself facing a massive bronze door.

Tarnished green from neglect, the door might have graced the entrance of a prosperous bank, but now [it was] tightly closed, with its handles missing, its bronze laurel wreath dangling off center, and its panels scarred as though battered by John Henry’s hammer.

Thinking,
But what an odd place for such an elegant door
, he stared. Then, repelled by the odor of garbage and humming of flies, he jammed on his hat and turned to leave—but not yet. For, suddenly catching sight of a copper-clad structure projecting from the wall to his left, he took an impulsive step to its front and found himself facing a wide, plate-glass window of the type usually found in busy shopping areas.

But why down here below street level?
he thought, and, stepping closer, saw what appeared to be a badly splashed house-painter’s drop-cloth that covered the enclosure’s rear wall. Then, in a flash, the confusion of brushstrokes and splashes sprang to form, becoming a large, unframed painting.

Then came a chilling shock of surprise. For here, in the last place in the world he would have expected, he was staring at a depiction of Christ marching to Calvary. And with the disappearing legs in the Longview’s tapestry springing to mind it was as though he were staring into the window of a storefront church.

For now, through the clouded glass, he recognized the painting as a type of religious folk art familiar to Negro neighborhoods—an association of style and place immediately confirmed by the heavy symbolism of the scene’s faded colors. For while the jeering, spear-wielding soldiers were unquestionably white, the skin of the thorn-crowned, cross-bearing Christ was unmistakably black. And with a gasp he asked himself,
But why in a Southern town like Washington, D.C., would one of
our
churches be down here in the basement of a
white
business building?
And
appalled by the rush of implications released by his question he pressed his forehead to the clouded glass and was struck by a feeling of dread.