Chester Himes - If he hollers let him go

I could picture the doctor, a little cheap, small-hearted, lecherous, cushy-mouthed, bald-headed, dried-up, parchment-coloured man in his late sixties, who figured he was a killer with the women. He was probably out chasing some chippy chick right then and I caught myself about to say, 'Strictly a humanitarian.'

Instead I said, 'Yes, he is,' lifting my feet high to keep from stumbling over the thick nap of the Orientals. Their house reminded me of a country club in Cleveland where I worked summers when I was in high school; you knew they had dough, you saw it, it was there, you didn't have to guess about it. 'Of course the money he's making ought to compensate in part,' I added evenly.

'Well, we could do without some of the money,' she began. 'It's so hard on all of us. You know Charles, our chauffeur, was drafted, and Norma left us to take a defence job. We only have Clara now, and she's getting so temperamental, I do declare-' She broke off, looking at me. 'Bob, you look very nice tonight. You wear evening attire very well indeed.'

'Almost as if I was a gentleman-or a waiter.' I grinned, dropping into a chair before the fireplace and fumbling for a cigarette. 'The boys out at the shipyard wouldn't know me now.'

She took a seat across from me and smiled graciously. 'I imagine some of the white young men at the shipyard in some of the more advanced departments are college-trained; but I understand our Negro workers are mostly Southern migrants.'

'Oh, there're quite a few Negro college graduates working in the various yards,' I said, and got my cigarette going.

'Oh, is that so?' She raised her eyebrows slightly. 'However, I don't imagine any of them have much occasion to wear evening attire.'

I blinked at her; I wondered why she was giving me all that. I knew her, I was one of the family, more or less. But I played along with her. 'No, I guess not. You can't be a gentleman and a worker too.'

'The doctor tells me that most working people spend their leisure time at the movies or in bars,' she went on. 'I think that's really a shame. Of course the doctor and I enjoy the legitimate theatre best, but since the war he hasn't been able to leave his practice long enough for us to visit New York City for the season. We have our season tickets to the Hollywood Bowl, of course-we're on the sponsor list, you know-but I do so wish we could go East this fall and see some of the new shows-'

I caught her digging for a breath and put in, 'Can I fix you a highball?' I knew it was crude, but if I had to listen to her I was at least going to have a drink.

'No thanks, dear,' she declined. 'The doctor has stopped me from drinking entirely. It aggravates my high blood pressure, you know. But fix one for yourself, do, if you like-and one for Alice too. She'll be down in just a moment, I'm sure.' When I stood up she added, 'You know where everything is, of course.'

'Yes, thanks,' I said. I went across the hallway into the doctor's pine-panelled study and mixed a couple of Scotch-and-sodas at his built-in bar. Then on second thought I took a couple of slugs straight to get even for the three drinks I'd bought him the last time I met him at a bar. I was grinning when I returned to the living-room.

'You look quite pleased about something today, Bob,' she observed. 'I suppose you're elated at the prospect of returning to college this fall.'

'This fall?' I looked at her.

'Alice tells me you're going to arrange your work so you can attend the university in the mornings,' she informed me.

'Oh yes, that's right.' I didn't want to tell her that was the first I'd heard about it. 'Yes, I'm going to join the ranks of the Negro professionals.'

'It gives me a feeling of personal triumph, too, to see our young men progress so,' she said. 'I like to think that the doctor and I have contributed by setting an example, by showing our young men just what they can accomplish if they try.'

That was my cue to say, 'Yes indeedy.' But she looked so goddamned smug and complacent, sitting there in her two-hundred-dollar chair, her feet planted in her three-thousand-dollar rug, waving two or three thousand dollars' worth of diamonds on her hands, bought with dough her husband had made overcharging poor hard-working coloured people for his incompetent services, that I had a crazy impulse to needle her. The Scotch had gone to work too.

So I said, 'Well now, to tell you the truth, Mrs. Harrison, what I'm so pleased about today is I've just found out how I can get even with the white folks.'

She couldn't have looked any more startled and horrified if I'd slapped her. 'Bob!' she said. 'Why, I never heard of such a thing!' Her hands made a fluttery, nervous gesture. 'Why on earth should you feel you have to get even with them?' But before I could reply she went on, 'Bob, you frighten me. You'll never make a success with that attitude. You mustn't think in terms of trying to get even with them, you must accept whatever they do for you and try to prove yourself worthy to be entrusted with more.' Now she was completely agitated. 'I'm really ashamed of you, Bob. How can you expect them to do anything for you if you're going to hate them?'

'I don't expect them to do anything for me they can get out of doing anyway,' I said.

'You've been talking to those Communist union agitators out at the shipyard,' she accused. 'You mustn't let them influence you, Bob, you mustn't listen to them.' She was genuinely concerned; I felt sorry for her. 'Take the advice of an old lady, Bob. The doctor and I have many, many white friends. They come here and dine with us and we go to their homes and dine with them. We have earned their respect and admiration and they accept us as social equals. But just a few of us have escaped, just a few of us.'

I started to say, 'Maybe they think the few of you are white,' but thought better of it.

'I'm really hurt and worried about you, Bob,' she went on incoherently. 'You must talk to Alice about this. White people are trying so hard to help us, we've got to earn our equality. We've got to show them that we're good enough, we've got to prove it to them. You know yourself, Bob, a lot of our people are just not worthy, they just don't deserve any more than they're getting. And they make it so hard for the rest of us. Just the other day the doctor went into a restaurant downtown where he's been eating for years and they didn't want to serve him. Southern Negroes are coming in here and making it hard for us…' Tears came into her eyes. 'We must pray and hope. We can't get everything we want overnight and we can't expect the white people to give us what we don't deserve. We must be patient, we must make progress…' She was just rattling off phrases now that didn't even make any sense to herself.

'Maybe the white folks can run faster than we can,' I muttered. 'Then what do we do?'

But she didn't even hear me. 'You must read Mrs. Roosevelt's article in the Negro Digest,' she was saying.

The old sister was so sincere I felt ashamed; I had no idea I'd touch her that much. I got up and took her hand. 'You're right, Mrs. Harrison,' I said. 'Perfectly right, you and Mrs. Roosevelt both.' I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying, 'How could you and Mrs. Roosevelt possibly be wrong?' Instead I said, 'I really didn't mean it the way you construed, but you're right about it.'

'Right about what?' Alice said from the foot of the spiral stairway, and fell into the living-room like Bette Davis, bigeyed and calisthenical and strictly sharp. She was togged in a flowing royal-purple chiffon evening gown with silver trimmings and a low square-cut neck that showed the tops of her creamy-white breasts with the darker disturbing seam down between; and her hair was swept up on top of her head in a turbulent billow and held by two silver combs that matched the silver trimmings of her gown-a tall willowy body falling to the floor with nothing but curves. Black elbow-length gloves showed a strip of creamy round arm. I gave her one look and caught an edge like a rash from head to foot, blinding and stinging. She was fine, fine, fine, so help me.