Three Days Before the Shooting ... (129 page)

“Was I wrong—I mean when my own folks scorned me and called me a bitch—was I wrong when I told those women who turned against me, ‘All right now,’ I said, ‘how many of you who call me a bitch have given birth to babies not because you loved them, but because you wanted to live free off Welfare? How many little saviors have you flushed down the toilet or thrown out with the trash because you were ashamed of how you got them?’

“That’s right, gentlemen! I
told them!
I said, ‘How many of you lost a chance to raise up a little black
savior
because you made your evil boyfriends or no-good husbands so mad that they kicked you square in your stomachs? Yes, and how many of you who have the nerve to give
me
a hard time lost your chance to help our race because after being given a little savior you didn’t love and prize him enough to keep him alive?’ Are you listening to me, Doctor Hickman?”

“Oh, yes,” Hickman said, “and carefully….”

“That’s good, because I want you gentlemen to understand what I believe in my heart, which is that one of those babies they miscarried might have been meant to be a great leader or savior—just as one of mine might have been, and might still come to be! That’s right! Otherwise, why is it that when most women only have
one
I was given
three?
Even with husbands all they came up with was
one
, and then they wasted him and denied him his chance at leading our people. Which is what I told them, gentlemen. And I told them how much I loved my babies and how I intended to keep them, no matter what
anybody
thought about my doing it! So now I’m asking you again, was I wrong? Tell me, gentlemen! You, the big, fine-looking one! And don’t bother straining for words—just speak from your heart to a poor black daughter of good Mother Earth who broke down on these Washington streets and cried!”

Moving on sudden impulse, Hickman felt the resistance of hot bodies as he pressed toward the staircase where little cross-eyed Maud waited with quivering lips as he heard the constricted sound of his voice saying, “No, ma’am, you weren’t wrong—”

“The hell she ain’t,” Barnes bellowed. “And after hearing her talk up under those women’s clothes you have the nerve to tell her she wasn’t wrong? Man, what kinda goddamn preacher
are
you?”

“No, ma’am,” he said with a quick glance at Barnes, “you weren’t wrong, even though your way of putting it was uncharitable. It was mean, but while I’m not sure I understand exactly what you’ve been telling us I feel in my heart that it contains a mysterious truth. Yours was an experience which most folks will
never understand, and don’t
want to
understand. But
I
believe that your dream contains the meaning of a powerful mystery in which many
many
aspects of our people’s experience have come into focus. And that mystery is so enduring that most of the time we’re too confused to recognize the role it plays in supporting the slavery-born hope that’s still working among us. So I bow to you, Sister Maud, and I pray that you’ll be blessed with peace and understanding. Because I believe that in your pain and suffering you’ve seen the Promise that keeps us striving. You’ve seen it in your own tortured terms and accepted the responsibility of announcing it to your friends and neighbors, regardless of what they might think. Yes, and announcing it to me in my
own
confusion. You’re reminding us of hopes and responsibilities that we as a people can’t afford to forget. God bless you!”

“Oh, I knew it,” Sister Maud sang from the stairs, “I
knew
it!”

And as he struggled to grasp the meaning of what he had said he saw others on the stairs moving aside from little Maud with mixed expressions of doubt, outrage, and wonder.

“I just
knew
you were sent here to bring me glad tidings,” she sang with her arms thrust toward him. “I just
knew
you two would ease my condition!”

“Ease
what
,“Barnes yelled. “Just what the hell did he say? Nothing! So now we have
another
damn nut on our hands! Folks, I don’t know this ole burly Negro from Adam’s off ox, but I swear he sounds as nutty as Maud! Next thing we know he’ll be telling us how many babies
he’s
lost! So all right, Mister Gentleman, go on and tell us how many whatnots, blowouts, washouts, and slip-outs you’re supposed to have lost!”

And with the hall exploding with laughter Barnes turned to the white detective, his eyes bulging with indignation as he bassed, “Officer, if you take my advice you’d forget about McMillen and get both these fools into that nut house at St. Elizabeth’s—and I mean in
straitjackets
!”

Gazing at Barnes with a calm expression Hickman felt an impulse to smash his face with a blow of his fist but restrained himself as out of the corner of his eye he saw the flicker of a grin on the detective’s white face. How often had he seen such grins when white men were watching Negroes fighting one another? And hearing sounds of anger mixed with the laughter as he stared at Barnes he thought,
With a bone stuck through that knot in his stocking cap he could pass for a comic-strip cannibal, but inside he’s dangerous. So grin if you like, but if this keeps up it’ll soon turn against you
.

“Frankly, Sister Maud,” he said, “I won’t pretend that I have answers to all your questions, but never mind Brother Barnes, because as we both know, there’s one like him around whenever our folks come together. He’s the particle of truth in the lies other folks use to justify being against us. So forget him, Sister Maud, because … well, it’s against my religion to call
any
man a fool, but I think you’ll understand if I call him a
clown….”

“Yes, darlin’, yes! That’s
exactly
the kind of fool he is!”

“… So you just forgive him and anybody else who’s unable to grasp what you’ve been telling us. What happened to you has a deep meaning, a profound and
marvelous
meaning! I can’t say that I fully understand it, but I’ll tell you that I
feel its
truth deep in my heart. And because it speaks to my faith and says something comforting to my own troubled mind. And therefore I truly believe that if other folks would only listen to you with their hearts it would comfort them too. So cherish your dream and forget the clowns and the cynics. Folks like us are sustained by hope and by faith, so we have to put doubters aside and hold on to the promise and hope that’s concealed in our dreaming….”

“Oh, yes, darlin’, yes! And if you were close enough Maud would give you a great big hug! But don’t stop now, darlin’, because what you’ve said is so good to hear that I need more of it!
Much
, much more!”

And as little Miss Maud thrust out her arms to blow him a kiss he saw her robe fall apart and was shocked to see a tiny brown breast flip from the embroidered bodice of her scarlet nightgown.

“Watch it, you slut,” a woman beside her screamed hysterically, “or you’ll end up letting him see that boat in the bulrushes you been boasting about!”

“Oh, woman,” Sister Maud said as she calmly rearranged her nightgown and robe, “you give me a pain in my bottom! Can’t you see that’s no ordinary man? Shucks, he’s already looked deeper into womenfolks than the place you’re so worried about. This man is looking into the depths of my
soul!

“So please, darlin’, don’t stop now,” she said as she fixed him again in her cross-focusing gaze, “because no matter what these others think about you, Maud understands. Just tell her some more. Tell her that she hasn’t really lost her three little babies! Tell her it isn’t so! Tell her—you hear me, darlin’? Tell her!
Tell
her! Good God almighty, darlin’, say
something!
And if you tired, then let your friend take over! Tell me that stone is stone-gone stone! Tell me my flesh is still flesh with bone underneath it! Tell me I’m not awake and standing here in the middle of the night but really up there in my bed with my three little babies safe beside me while I wait for my righteous
bridegroom
! Speak to me, darlin’, SPEAK to me!”

“BRIDEGROOM?” Barnes bellowed. “Now she’s
really
blowing her store-bought wig!”

“… Tell me that pretty soon my righteous bridegroom will come tipping over that pretty blue carpet that Mister Rockmore had laid in my room, and that those pretty pink roses will still be there on my
wall
paper! Oh, yes! It’ll be so
goo-ood!
So tell me all, tell me
everything
!”

“Woman,” Barnes roared, “have you up and blown that beat-up wig you’re wearing? Answer me!”

“Ignore him, darlin’, and tell me! And after that they can do with me whatever they will, but you tell me! Speak to my soul! And then, darlin’…”

And extending her clasped hands in a gesture of prayer the little woman leaned toward him, crying, “Please answer a question which
no
good woman should ever have to ask: When will my bridegroom with those sweet, soothing hands start protecting us from white men like that nasty, stinking, little mammy-grabber who’s down there doing his best to knock the foundation out from under our home! So you tell me now! I say, TELL ME! AND THEN SHOW ME YOU
MEAN WHAT
YOU SAY!”

Poor woman
, he thought,
she’s losing control, and from the stares they’re giving this white man so are some of the men…
.

“Go ahead,” Barnes said, “prove what she says about your being a leader by showing us how Uncle Toms like you and your buddy’ll go about dealing with this D.C. policeman!”

“Very well, Brother Barnes, but I’ll start by warning them against listening to an opportunist like you!”

“Opportunist!”
Barnes roared with a jerk of his head. “Y’all heard him, folks, so y’all be the judge. I’m urging you to defend your God-given rights against a cracker policeman and he calls me a hustler! Hell, if that’s his idea of leadership his friend Mister Charlie has him and his buddy bowing and scraping!”

“Listen, you,” the detective said, stepping forward, “that’s enough of that!”

“The hell it is,” a man called from the stairs. “And what’s more, we’re tired as hell of being told to turn the other cheek for somebody like you!”

“Tell whitey about it,” Barnes called. “Let the sucker know we’re
tired
of that kind of leadership—yeah! And if this one and his buddy don’t like it, I’ll start kicking butt ‘til they bleed like fountains! The nerve of them coming in here insulting folks like us with some Uncle Tom bullshit!”

“Well, now,” Wilhite said with a quick step forward, “since it’s your idea, why don’t you give it a try?”

“No, Wilhite,” Hickman warned, “we didn’t come here for that!”

And seeing a man moving closer to Barnes with a hostile glare, he grabbed Wilhite’s arm.

“I know, A.Z.,” Wilhite said, “but it’s time somebody taught this clown the difference between our character and the region we come from!”

“No, Wilhite,” he said, holding on, “because he’ll still go on thinking that all black Southerners are clowns and all white folks racists!”

“Hell, let the sucker go,” Barnes yelled from a prizefighter’s posture, “let’s get it over with….”

“Right on, Lonnie,” a man called from nearby. “You take him and I’ll take the big one!”

“Yeah,” another man said as he moved to join Barnes, “and we’ll see that whitey keeps out of it!”

“Oh, no,” the detective warned as he unbuttoned his jacket, “not if you consider the consequences!”

And in looking past Wilhite, Hickman saw Barnes’ defender’s startled expression as suddenly those around him fell back at the sight of a gun in the detective’s white hand.

“That’s right,” the detective warned with a gesture toward Hickman, “and before things get out of hand, you two get into that room behind you—now move!”

And seeing Wilhite still staring at Barnes, Hickman whirled him around and propelled him forward.

“Wait, darlin’, WAIT,” he heard from the stair. And seeing the detective facing the crowd with his gun raised for action, he pushed Wilhite into the room and followed.

[TERROR]

W
HERE
, partially blinded by the sudden intensity of light, he let go of Wilhite and heard shouts from the vestibule become suddenly muted by the slam of the door.

“This way,” the detective said, “and watch your step, this place is a booby trap.”

And hearing Wilhite and the detective moving away, he proceeded slowly forward by ear and by touch. And now, his eyes adjusting, he found himself moving through an aisle crowded with appliances and furniture and was surprised by the change of environment.

For now he was passing a collection of small circular tables and stacked wooden chairs, the carved headboards of mahogany bedsteads, an ancient wash-stand with a washbowl and pitcher. Two movie projectors stood surrounded by stacks of circular film cans, a tin weather vane in the shape of an eagle stood on a table with its wings spread wide above a troop of miniature Minutemen armed with flintlock muskets, a toy fire wagon drawn by galloping horses, a bugle, a banjo, and an old phonograph with a flared wooden horn. And in recalling the metallic sounds of such early machines his eyes were assaulted by the blinding glare of electric lamps.

Attached to the wall on his right, the lamps were fashioned in the forms of torch-bearing cherubs, and suddenly struck by their angelic smiling, he paused.

I get it, he thought with a surge of amusement: In case I’m here in all this blinding confusion in search for something important you little fellows will help me, but you’re smiling because you know that otherwise I’d never lay hands on it.

But now, moving toward where Wilhite and the detective were standing, in what appeared to be the only clear space in the wall-to-wall clutter, his puzzlement was increased by the disorder around him. And as he gazed upward and wondered at the waste of electricity he realized that the source of much of the
dust-filtered glare were four theatrical spotlights attached near the tops of the high-ceilinged walls.