Three Days Before the Shooting ... (180 page)

“Anyway, since I knew better than to interrupt what the words were saying to my visitor I listened, and this is what they said:

“‘So when he stops laughing the chief steward gives the chief cook the high sign and decides to hang loose. But since his wise Irish mother didn’t raise her a fool, he takes a good look at Big Smith’s kids and their little red wagons and thinks warm thoughts about his own little kids and his wife’s nice disposition, her fine corned beef and cabbage, plus her sweet, sweet jelly-roll. Which reminds him why he has to work hard and look out for them and their best interest. And especially his job.

“‘So he rushes off to check out his meat box, his storeroom, and his bin of fresh vegetables. And this leaves Big Smith time to spend with his six little children and his pretty little missus before the Santa Fe Chief takes off for Texas. And now as the kids focus on that big greasy bag they start firing him some questions.

“‘ “What’d you bring us for supper, Daddy?” the six little children say. But although they’re fishing like Trojans they aren’t about to get a bite. Because by now Big Smith the daddy has gone to gazing at their mama with genuine larceny, and she’s smiling back with what they’d come to understand is a sleepy bedroom look in her eyes. So then they start making them some wishes.

“‘ “I hope it’s roast beef,” the oldest one says.

“‘ “I hope it’s mutton,” the second oldest says.

“‘ “I hope it’s corned beef hash with some good ole giblet gravy,” the third oldest of them says.

“‘ “Now me,” the fourth one says, “I could use some good ole sausage, and I mean the Brookfield kind.”

“‘ “Shucks, I hope it’s round steak cooked as tender as Jim Jeffries’ head after Jack Johnson got through right-crossing and left-jabbing,” the fifth one says, “and a great big bucketful of good ole onion gravy—yeah! And a skillet full of cornbread, and some good ole turnip greens with the turnips on the side.”

“‘ “Then the little Big Smith baby sticks out his tongue at his brothers and says, “Shucks, all of y’all ain’t nothing but some greedy greedy-guts. But I don’t care
what
Daddy brought us in that bag, long as there’s some sweet Virginia
ham
hidden in it. And you want to know why? It’s ‘cause I got this brand-new tooth which needs something truly
special
for me and it to try….”

“‘So pretty soon they get so worked up and hungry that they almost get to fighting. But then they hear the Chief’s engine shooting off steam and ringing its bell and turn to have a look before the long train leaves the station.

“‘Because by now the fireman is in position with his big scoop on the ready, the engineer sits gripping on the throttle with his white-gloved hand, the steam domes, the sandbox, and the long bulging boiler are all bright and gleaming, and its valves are jetting steam. While lined in a row near where we’re watching, the waiters in white and porters in blue are looking stern and handsome like the Coldstream Guards we used to see marching side by side in the newsreels.

“‘So now, with the passengers all seated with the crew in place and the big stationmaster standing at attention with his megaphone in hand, here comes the conductor who’s in charge of the Chief’s long journey, who’s stepping like he’s listening to a band.

“‘Dressed in a blue uniform with his jacket rowed with medals and the black visor of his cap aglow with golden braid, he’s strutting like a general on parade. And when he comes to a halt he throws back his head, and when he sings out “AAAAL-ahhh-BOARD!” he reminds me of how Miss Kindly tries to encourage us to like classical music better than jazz by having Enrico Caruso yell
Aida
through the horn of her Victrola!

“‘Then down the tracks as far as we can see, the signal lamps and semaphores are glowing green, green, green. And that’s when Mister Big Smith beams down at his chair-step children as proud as a king. Then he turns to his pretty little missus and looks very soulful as he says, “I want you to save it, pretty mama, and I mean all of it, for me!”

“‘And Missus Big Smith says, “Oh, that’s no trouble, no trouble a’tall. Not as long as I get your kind attention on your next trip through!”

“‘ “And if I don’t, I truly hope,” Mister Big Smith says, “that something big and mean will bite me!”

“‘ “Never you mind all that innocent-sounding jive,” Missus Big Smith says, “‘Cause
you
know, and
I
know there ain’t nothing that big and reckless even down there in Dallas! Anyway, after all your endless traveling it’s time you had some rest and quiet diversion. So you hurry home and
see me
, you hear me?”

“‘ “Oh, yes,” Mr. Big Smith says, “but ‘til then you save it, pretty mama, ‘cause I’m really going to need it!”

“‘Then, with a hug and a kiss, he presents her with that big greasy bag, and tosses the six little kids some hard rock candy of the kind that’s flavored with peppermint and cinnamon, and they go racing down the tracks so they’ll be there waiting when the Chief comes rolling south on its way to Texas.

“‘So then we take off down the tracks a piece so we can have a better view. And my, oh,
my!
When it hits that back-o-town grade it’s a-huffing and a-puffing and a-ringing its bell. And when it takes that sweeping curve past the cottonseed mill the little Big Smith kids are already there with their little red wagons. Then, as the dining car gets closer it starts to belching out this eye-bugging bounty of pork chops, lamb chops, veal chops, and mutton, beef steaks, calves’ liver, and bacon, and crates of chitt’lings—which Big Smith
had
to get in
Chicago, or else K.C., ‘cause even the richest white passengers of the Santa Fe Chief weren’t up to being served such special colored folk’s food as chitterlings. And next thing we know those six little Big Smith children are hustling along the tracks snatching and grabbing as they gather in the grub. And when they come dragging their wagons back all loaded down with loot and the oldest sees us gawking like we can’t believe our eyes, he wrinkles up his nose and sings out real sassy,

I don’t know about
y’all’s
daddies,
But
ours
treats us truly fine
‘Cause he’s the best chief cook On the Santa Fe line!

“‘And as though to prove he’s not telling us a lie, when we take our last look at the Santa Fe Chief, Mister Big Smith, their dear ole daddy, is leaning out the window waving to his missus and his boys with a big loving smile on his face. And as we watch him fade down the tracks we both want to cry. Why? Because it’s made us understand far better than we can say about what we’ve missed by being orphans….’ ”

And now, as Cliofus suddenly paused to stare in his direction, Hickman watched openmouthed as the big man in the wheelchair clasped his hands in a gesture of benediction. Then, spreading his arms like a dedicated preacher, Cliofus said with a throb in his voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, I still don’t know what those words were up to or how my visitor took them, but take my advice: Whenever times get so hard that you doubt your earthly mission, just remember Big Smith the chef and his family! Yes, and keep the spirit of its mother, its father, and its six little children in your minds! Then give praise to Glory for sending us such a self-persevering, hope-inspiring example for our instruction!”

And as Hickman whispered Amen and joined the crowd’s applause, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder and turned to see the driver who had driven him to what had turned out to be a cave of surprises.

“Didn’t I tell you he was something else?” the driver said.

“You surely did, my friend,” Hickman said with emotion, “but even after your warning I wasn’t prepared for anything like what I’ve heard here tonight. And would you believe it, after seeing me in the audience he signified at me by ending his wild parable of a tale like it was some kind of
sermon
!”

“Yeah, but you liked it, didn’t you?”

“And you’d better believe it. I liked it almost as well as some of the wise old lies I heard in barbershops and pool halls back in the old days. But hearing that kind of thing in a nightclub makes a man wonder what’s happening to this country and us as a people.”

“Oh, we’ll make it, and you can bet on that. But what about Cliofus?”

“Well, even after knowing him since he was a big clumsy infant I’ll have to say that he’s turned out to have the strangest way with words that I’ve ever heard. But who knows? Maybe he’s not only a man who’s plagued by his words, but a man of the Word transcendent….”

[MOVIE]

A
ND NOW, AS
H
ICKMAN
watched Cliofus throw his hands above his head and bow, the room rang with cheers and applause. Then, feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned to see a grinning face within inches of his own.

“Didn’t I tell you he was something else?” the face said, and he recognized the taxi driver.

“You surely did,” Hickman said, “but I wasn’t prepared for anything like this, not in a nightclub….”

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?”

“I’ll have to admit that I do, almost as well as I did in pool halls and barber-shops. But hearing this kind of thing in a nightclub is still pretty strange….”

Suddenly, through waves of applause and shouted requests for
^*
about the Big Smith family, Hickman was surprised to hear Cliofus call out, “Hey, you! The big gentleman back there in the rear! Now that these words of mine have their nasty habits on, what would
you
like to hear?”

Surprised, and seeing customers turning to stare at him with expressions of amusement, Hickman hesitated.

“Go ahead, Ace,” a freckle-faced man said with a friendly nudge, “tell the man….”

“Oh, no,” Hickman said, “he doesn’t mean me….”

“The hell he don’t! You’re the biggest one back here, so he
has
to mean you. Tell the man, and he’ll give it to you.”

“Okay, so now we’ll see,” Hickman said as he called to Cliofus. “Was your question meant for me?”

“Yes, sir,” Cliofus called back—“that is, if you’re the one I think you are. Aren’t you in town to visit a certain lady?”

“Why yes,” Hickman said, “as a matter of fact, I am….”

“I thought so,” Cliofus said with a nod. “And you dropped in here because you knew Buster and me from years ago and you wanted to see how we were doing—isn’t that right?”

“Yes, that’s true….”

“Right! But that’s not all of it, because the words keep telling me that you’re really here because you have a question that’s weighing heavy on your mind,
and somehow it’s connected with the fellow who got them started the other day. So now that they know you’re in the room they want to get out and get on with it. If I’m right, just say so and maybe they’ll let both of us have a little peace.”

“Very well,” Hickman said, “and if it wouldn’t interrupt your regular routine too much I’d be grateful if you’d have your words give us an account of a moving picture which was produced out here many years ago—or so I’ve been told….” And as he waited for the big man’s reaction he thought,
So there, I’ve asked

what Love would probably call the wrong question of the wrong man, in the wrong place…
. Then he saw Cliofus nod, slap his thigh, and lean forward. But just as Cliofus was about to answer an elderly woman who sat at a table just below the stage whirled in her chair.

“A
moving picture
,“the woman shouted. “Mister, I don’t know who you are, but I’ve lived here since I was a young girl and never in my
life
have I heard about anything like that!”

With a sudden forward movement Cliofus looked down, saying, “Now wait!
Hold it!”

“That’s right,” the woman shouted, “never!”

“But madam,” Hickman called with a smile, “while I’m sure that you haven’t, couldn’t it be because you were too young?”

“Oh, no, Ace,” the freckled-faced man beside him said, “I know for a fact that Anna there has been here since Adam messed up with Eve, but in those days you’re referring to she was always out in the country picking cotton….”

“Now that’s a cotton-mouthed lie,” the woman shouted. “I was never even
near a
cotton patch!”

“Don’t tell
me,”
the freckled man laughed, “‘cause you spent more time picking cotton than you did in school!”

“And that’s another cotton-mouthed lie! I’ve never picked cotton!”

“Now, I wouldn’t know about that,” Cliofus called down from the stage, “but according to Miss Janey you can take some folks out of the cotton patch, but you can’t take the cotton patch out of their kids. What’s more, you’re suggesting that the gentleman who mentioned a movie is telling a lie. Well, I’m telling you that if he tells you that a hen dips snuff all you have to do is look under her wing and you’ll find a can of
Garrett’s!”

“And just how I’m supposed to take some stranger’s word about a movie?”

“Because he’s a man of his
Word,”
Cliofus said, “that’s why! But if you won’t take
his
word about that movie, take mine. I was just a kid but I remember a few things about it, and since the gentleman has admitted that the words are onto something, why don’t you just listen and see what they come up with?”

“Hey, Cliofus,” a man called from the bar, “that’s not fair! How come you letting a stranger who nobody’s ever seen before break into your regular routine?”

“Don’t blame it on me, Lonzo,” Cliofus called, “it’s the
words—
and besides, that man is no stranger, because I remember him from when I was a kid….”

“Get on with it, Cliofus,” Buster called over the sound system. “Time’s a-wasting, so get on with it.”

With a sudden twist Cliofus stared into the shadows behind him, shouting, “Now just what the hell do the words care about
time?”
Then, turning and stabbing his finger in Hickman’s direction, he continued.