And I knew what I was going to do.
Next day, after my chores were done, I walked to The Cedars, Mr. Lee Davis's plantation. I expected that Aunt Lou, his cook, would answer the back door, but it was Aunt Minnie instead. Yes, Mr. Lee was at home, and she'd see if he would speak with me.
He came to the door, a fat, messy man in white linen trousers, white shirt, and a red necktieâthe only outfit I'd ever seen him in. Mr. Davis greeted me with a hearty smile and asked about how my family was doing. Then he wanted to know all about Randall: where he was, how the training was going, and when he would be going overseas.
I answered all Mr. Davis's questions, saying "Yes, sir" and "No, sir" as I'd been taught, never looking the man in the eye. On the outside, I was polite, but inside, I would just as soon spit at him as beg him for work.
At last, Mr. Davis asked why I was there. It wouldn't do for me, or any Negro, to speak first. With eyes fixed on the dirt, I asked could I please work in his fields for the summer, now that Henry couldn't.
"Cecil come by this morning to tell me about that," Mr. Davis said. "He mentioned something about trouble Henry got into."
I wondered how much Brother Johnson had said, and whether he'd made Nathan and me look bad.
"Didn't say what the trouble was, and I didn't ask. None of my business, after all."
Mr. Davis didn't mean that. He made it his business to know everything going on within twenty miles of Davisville, but maybe he didn't think the troubles of some of his colored boys were worth knowing about.
I waited, like I had all the time in the world and the grass was the most interesting thing I'd ever seen.
"So you want to work here."
"Yes, sir."
"I thought you was goin' to work with your daddy."
I was ready for this. "I was goin' to, Mr. Lee, but Pop ain't gon' have as much work as he thought. 'Sides, I ain't a very good carpenter." I kept my voice low and humble, and I was careful not to use the proper grammar Ma had worked so hard to pound into me.
The man pulled out a crumpled white handkerchief and mopped his forehead. "I don't really need no extra help in the fields. Not with our new guests in town. You seen 'em yet?"
"You mean the prisoners, Mr. Lee?"
"That's right! I can't wait to see how they handle hoes and shovels. Hell of a lot better than the rifles they was aiming at our boys in Africa, the goddamn Nazi sons of bitches."
I said nothing, just kept my eyes on my shoes.
"You really do need a job?" he asked doubtfully.
"Oh, yes, sir. Especially now that Randall gone."
"That's true. We don't want your family to go through hard times because your brother is off serving his country. That wouldn't be fair, now, would it?"
"No, sir. I reckon not."
"Tell you what. The Dixie Belle already looks like it's gonna be a big success. I'm half owner, you know."
"I heard that, Mr. Lee."
"That place is a gold mine! Even with a war on, folks got to eat."
Where was he going with this?
"How'd you like a job in the kitchen? Lou told me just last evening that they can use a boy to wash dishes. Think that's something you could do?"
Now I was sorry I'd come. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was work at the Dixie Belle. But it was too late to say no. You never refused a white man's offerânot if you knew what was good for you.
"It'd be hard work," he warned. "Hot, too, with summer comin' on, and all that boilin' grease for the chicken heatin' up the kitchen even more. Think you could handle it?"
There was no choice. "I think I could, Mr. Lee. Thank you for offerin' it to me."
"I can pay you same as my field hands getâten cents an hour."
"Thank you, sir."
"Can you start tomorrow? Say at six? We open for breakfast at seven, and there's work to do before that."
Not even Mr. Davis's field hands had to be on the job that early, and Pop never left the house to go to a job until after seven. Working with him suddenly looked like heaven compared to this.
But I
Next day, after my chores were done, I walked to The Cedars, Mr. Lee Davis's plantation. I expected that Aunt Lou, his cook, would answer the back door, but it was Aunt Minnie instead. Yes, Mr. Lee was at home, and she'd see if he would speak with me.
He came to the door, a fat, messy man in white linen trousers, white shirt, and a red necktieâthe only outfit I'd ever seen him in. Mr. Davis greeted me with a hearty smile and asked about how my family was doing. Then he wanted to know all about Randall: where he was, how the training was going, and when he would be going overseas.
I answered all Mr. Davis's questions, saying "Yes, sir" and "No, sir" as I'd been taught, never looking the man in the eye. On the outside, I was polite, but inside, I would just as soon spit at him as beg him for work.
At last, Mr. Davis asked why I was there. It wouldn't do for me, or any Negro, to speak first. With eyes fixed on the dirt, I asked could I please work in his fields for the summer, now that Henry couldn't.
"Cecil come by this morning to tell me about that," Mr. Davis said. "He mentioned something about trouble Henry got into."
I wondered how much Brother Johnson had said, and whether he'd made Nathan and me look bad.
"Didn't say what the trouble was, and I didn't ask. None of my business, after all."
Mr. Davis didn't mean that. He made it his business to know everything going on within twenty miles of Davisville, but maybe he didn't think the troubles of some of his colored boys were worth knowing about.
I waited, like I had all the time in the world and the grass was the most interesting thing I'd ever seen.
"So you want to work here."
"Yes, sir."
"I thought you was goin' to work with your daddy."
I was ready for this. "I was goin' to, Mr. Lee, but Pop ain't gon' have as much work as he thought. 'Sides, I ain't a very good carpenter." I kept my voice low and humble, and I was careful not to use the proper grammar Ma had worked so hard to pound into me.
The man pulled out a crumpled white handkerchief and mopped his forehead. "I don't really need no extra help in the fields. Not with our new guests in town. You seen 'em yet?"
"You mean the prisoners, Mr. Lee?"
"That's right! I can't wait to see how they handle hoes and shovels. Hell of a lot better than the rifles they was aiming at our boys in Africa, the goddamn Nazi sons of bitches."
I said nothing, just kept my eyes on my shoes.
"You really do need a job?" he asked doubtfully.
"Oh, yes, sir. Especially now that Randall gone."
"That's true. We don't want your family to go through hard times because your brother is off serving his country. That wouldn't be fair, now, would it?"
"No, sir. I reckon not."
"Tell you what. The Dixie Belle already looks like it's gonna be a big success. I'm half owner, you know."
"I heard that, Mr. Lee."
"That place is a gold mine! Even with a war on, folks got to eat."
Where was he going with this?
"How'd you like a job in the kitchen? Lou told me just last evening that they can use a boy to wash dishes. Think that's something you could do?"
Now I was sorry I'd come. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was work at the Dixie Belle. But it was too late to say no. You never refused a white man's offerânot if you knew what was good for you.
"It'd be hard work," he warned. "Hot, too, with summer comin' on, and all that boilin' grease for the chicken heatin' up the kitchen even more. Think you could handle it?"
There was no choice. "I think I could, Mr. Lee. Thank you for offerin' it to me."
"I can pay you same as my field hands getâten cents an hour."
"Thank you, sir."
"Can you start tomorrow? Say at six? We open for breakfast at seven, and there's work to do before that."
Not even Mr. Davis's field hands had to be on the job that early, and Pop never left the house to go to a job until after seven. Working with him suddenly looked like heaven compared to this.
But I
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