Oscar Micheaux - The Oscar Micheaux Omnibus

I went to a hotel run by colored people, and at about seven-thirty that evening, called up the house to see if Orlean had returned. She came to the phone but before we had said much, were accidentally cut off. Hearing her voice excited me, and I wanted to see her, so hung up the receiver and hurried to the house, some ten or twelve blocks away. When I rang the bell, Claves came to the door. Before he could let me enter, Ethel came running down the stairs, screaming as loudly as she could:

"Don't let him in! Don't let him in! You know what papa said! Don't you let him in," and continued screaming as loud as possible.

I heard my wife crying in the back room. Claves had his hat on and came outside, saying:

"For God's sake, Ethel, hush up! You'll have all the neighborhood out."

She continued to scream, and to stop her, he closed the door. We went together on State street and I took a few Scotch highballs and cocktails to try to forget it.

The next day being Sunday, Claves said he would try to get Ethel off to church and then I could slip in and see Orlean, but she refused to go and when I called up, about the time I thought she would be gone, she was on guard. My wife was at the phone and told me to come over and she would try to slip out, but when I called, Ethel had made her go to bed. It seemed that she ran the house and all in it, when the elder was away. Mrs. McCraline came outside, took me by the arm and led me over to Groveland park, near the lake. Here she unfolded a plan whereby I should find a room nearby, and she would slip Orlean over to it, but this proved as unsuccessful as the other attempt, to steal a march on Ethel. She held the fort and I did not get to see my wife but one hour during the four days I was in Chicago. That was on Tuesday following, after Claves had tried every trick and failed to get Ethel away. This time he succeeded by telling her I had left town, but when I had been in the house an hour, Ethel came and started screaming. I had to get out before she would stop.

The next day I called up and suggested to Orlean that I bring a doctor and leave her in his charge for I must return to Dakota. She consented and I went to a young negro doctor on State street and took him to the house, but when we arrived, Ethel would not admit us. The doctor and I had roomed together before I left Chicago, while he was attending the Northwestern Medical School, and we had always been good friends. He had been enthusiastic over my success in the west and it made me feel dreadfully embarrassed when we were refused admittance. When I called up the house later Ethel came to the phone, and said:

"How dare you bring a 'nigger doctor' to our house? Why, papa has never had a negro doctor in his house. Dr. Bryant is our doctor."

Dr. Bryant, a white doctor, is said to have the biggest practice among colored people, of any physician. That recalled to my mind some of the elder's declarations of a short time before. He had said on more than one occasion:

"I am sacrificing my life for this race," and would appear much affected.

After I returned home, my wife began writing nice letters, and so did Claves, who had done all a hen-pecked husband could do to help my wife and me. He wrote letters from the heart, declaring his intention to be more than a friend. He would be a brother. I received a letter from him, which read:

Chicago, Ill., May 30, 19—.

Dear Friend Devereaux:

Your kind and welcome letter was received a few days ago and the reason you did not receive my last letter sooner was because I left it for Ethel to mail, and she didn't do so. I am glad to hear you are getting your flax in good shape, and the prospects are fair for a good crop, and now I will tell you about Orlean. She seems happier of late than she has been at any time since she came home. Now, I don't know how you will feel, but I know it relieves my conscience, when I say that your wife loves you, and talks of you—to me—all the time.

Those papers, and pamphlets you sent telling all about the display Nicholson brothers had on at the Omaha land show. She had opened it and when I came home she told me she could not wait because she was so anxious to hear about the Little Crow. She told me that Nicholson brothers were your best friends. I imagine they must be smart fellows for every paper in the batch you sent me had something about them in it. She took the money you sent her and bought some shoes and had some pictures made, so as to send you one. Mrs. Warner was over the next day, and said; "Where did you get the shoes?" and she answered, "My husband sent them to me."

Now, I hope you will not worry because she told me as soon as she was well enough she was going back to Dakota, and as for me, I intend to be more than a friend to you. I'm going to be a brother.

From your dear friend,

E.M. Claves.

My wife had written at the same time and used many "we" and "ours" in her letter, and I felt the trouble would soon be over and she would be at home.

That was the last letter I received from Claves, and when I heard from my wife again, it was altogether different. Instead of an endearing epistle, it was one of accusation, downright abusive. I made no complaint, nor did I write to Claves to inquire why he had ceased writing. I had always judged people by their convictions and in this I knew the cause.

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During the first half of the sixteenth century, Menno Simons founded a denomination of Christians in Friesland, a province of the Netherlands. Many of these Mennonites settled in Northern Germany. This religious belief was opposed to military service and about the close of the American Revolution the Mennonites began emigrating, until more than fifty thousand of their number had found homes west of the Dneiper, near the Black Sea, in Southern Russia, around Odessa. These people were fanatical in their belief, rejected infant baptism and original sin, believing in baptism only on profession of faith, and were opposed to theological training

In Russia, as in Germany, they led lives of great simplicity, both secularly and religiously and lived in separate communities.

The gently rolling lands, with a rich soil, responded readily to cultivation, and history proves the Germans always to have been good farmers. The Mennonites found peace and prosperity in southern Russia, until the Crimean war. Being opposed to military service, when Russia began levying heavy taxes on their lands and heavier toll from their families, by taking the strong young men to carry on the war, the Mennonites became dissatisfied under the Russian government, and left the country in great numbers, removing to America, and settling along the Jim river in South Dakota.

Among these settlers was a family by the name of Wesinberger, who had grown prosperous, their forefathers having gone to Russia among the first, although they were not Mennonites. Christopher the youngest son, was among those drawn to go to the war, but the Wesinbergers were prosperous, and paid the examining physician twelve hundred and fifty rubles (about one thousand dollars) to have Christopher "made sick" and pronounced unfit for service. With the approach of the Russian-Japanese War, when it was seen that Russia would be forced into war with Japan, the boys having married, and with sons of their own, who would have to "draw," the Wesinberger brothers sold their land and set sail for America. At the time the war broke out, John and Jacob were living on homesteads, in the county adjoining Tipp county on the north, Christopher having settled in western Canada.

It was while they were breaking prairie near my sister's homestead, that I became acquainted with the former, who, at that time owned a hundred and fifty head of cattle, seventy-five head of horses, hogs, and all kinds of farm machinery, besides a steam prairie breaking outfit and fifteen hundred acres of land between them.