Jeffery Allen - Song of the Shank

Tabbs found it difficult to speak, his words hanging fruit, but out of reach. I’ve been cheated, he said. I’ve done all I can.

Of course, Coffin said. Of course. So this lawyer thinks he understands, knows Tabbs’s troubles, as well as Tabbs’s longings and aspirations; and as he took it all fully into heartfelt consideration he began to smile, not a cruel smile but one of pity. Mr. Gross, I offer no guarantee, but I believe a court should order General Bethune to square accounts and return the balance of your deposit, and also allow you some substantial monies to recuperate your legal costs and to compound reasonable interest. It may be that General Bethune will—

That won’t do, Tabbs said.

Simon Coffin didn’t say anything to this. I’m beginning to understand, he said. You seek revenge? Catch your thief in order to hang him.

No, sir.

Not that?

No, sir. Nothing of the sort. Tabbs said it as straight as he could, needing Coffin to believe that he could usefully influence Tabbs.

We’re at peace now, Coffin said.

Peace? Tabbs thinks. That’s milk for the birds.

Coffin leaned forward and inclined his fleshy face toward Tabbs, this lifting of the head suggestive of an immediate change in consciousness, all that was required for him to draw up a fresh thought and give — a redirecting of muscle and skin — Tabbs a look part smile, part smirk.

What’s done is done, he went on. Nothing can change that. Keep your eyes on the prize, on the future, he said. Blind Tom once had a dazzling career, he said. Perhaps he will again.

Indeed he will, sir. (Indeed he will.)

But the boy is beyond your reach. Coffin paused, as if to let the words sink in. The General took advantage of you. You honestly believed that he would keep his word, that he would give up the boy.

Unclear if Coffin was asking or telling.

Yes.

What a funny turn of thought you have. The lawyer almost laughed. (Did he?) He shook his head, staring at Tabbs with a pitying look. Well, I foresee it possible that a mule might someday become a king.

Tabbs couldn’t find a single word. What was there to say? Still, he didn’t want a silence to develop, so he uttered a platitude. We take a respected man at his word.

And I’m sure you did just that, Mr. Gross. That makes you all the more the innocent. His eyes blinked beneath thick eyebrows that clung like gray slugs onto his face. Too much for Tabbs. Can any court or authority compel the General to produce the boy from hiding? the lawyer asked. By what means?

Tabbs stood up from his seat, walked over to one of the wide windows, and stood looking down at the street three stories below. The end of the morning presented a particular shade of color he witnessed for the first time. He turned and faced the lawyer, who was observing him with none of his former amusement.

Mr. Coffin, I am not naive. I was not weaned on babe’s milk. I am here because I know that you are a man of intelligence and means.

Yes, I am.

Many of our citizens, the best and the worst, have sacrificed almost everything to secure the rights of my people.

And why do you report me this fact, Mr. Gross? The lawyer spoke in a quiet, unhurried tone. I am well aware of the recent course of history, as I’m sure you are fully aware of the far longer course, the many years, decades, I have spent offering fair and impartial representation for your maligned people.

Of course, sir. I am not accusing you.

You most certainly are, and in the worst way. With deceit and without forthrightness.

They talked like people close to last words. Tabbs could offer nothing in his defense.

As it is, Coffin said, I already face a dilemma. These days I am conflicted, tormented between two diametrically opposed callings. On the one hand, the longing for rest. And on the other, an acute awareness of our need to oppose human crime and human misery. With such serious decisions before me, what would compel me to entertain a flimsy claim? You choose to come before me with your own private cause.

No, sir.

Yes, Mr. Gross. Yes. Coffin sat watching and waiting for Tabbs’s response — measuring his reaction? — and would not say another word until he got one.

Sir, I must respectfully inform you that you fail to understand why I am here. It is not a matter of my person. I come before you because no other man, Negro or Anglo-Saxon, stands a chance of aiding me in this cause. I stand before you at the price of a certain sacrifice of dignity, because dignity alone is the only worthy currency. There. He had said it. Now the lawyer understood (should) that this, at root and wing, was the substantive matter at hand.

He saw Coffin’s eyes darken with kindness. Mr. Gross, I’m sure you are here on a pure impulse of the heart, but you must recognize that you are in an impossible position. General Bethune will never relinquish all that he believes is rightfully his.

Indeed, sir. He won’t. I’m certain of it.

Coffin leaned back in his chair, thinking. Mr. Gross, I am often asked why I have never taken on a junior partner, an understudy to whom I might pass on all that I have studied, learned, and mastered over the years. Actually, I would very much like to do so. But I will tell you why I never will. No matter how much we attempt to speak to novices, indeed to all young people, they never take the trouble to retain what is most important.

Now, Tabbs felt that he was on his own, so utterly alone that nothing had transpired since he stepped through the door, that some other person from a very long time ago in a place very far away had seen and said and heard and felt.

I foresee a time in the future, one year from now, perhaps two or three, when you will be seated once again as you are now before another man of my profession. The lawyer turned his face and lowered his gaze to the desk. So, at your insistence, Mr. Gross, I will immediately begin considering our best course of action. I will have our complaint served on the General personally.

This was what Tabbs had journeyed here to hear. (Nothing less.) Coffin knew General Bethune’s hiding place. And Tabbs would kick in the safe house door, snatch off the roof, burrow into the General’s secret hole underground.

Without looking at Tabbs — straight ahead, through the fully open door — the lawyer laid out two documents on his desk. I have here a letter of agreement in duplicate. You must sign both. Tabbs went over and signed each document with Coffin’s pen. Signing done, he stood looking at the lawyer, who was (now) returning his gaze. And I will need a sum of two hundred dollars as a retainer for my services. I can give you a few days to acquire the money if you so need it.

Tabbs was already reaching for his wallet. (Thought twice. Should he or shouldn’t he? Now’s the time. Now isn’t the time.) Produced a sheath of notes and laid one after another upon the desk. As he had earlier upon Tabbs’s appearance, Coffin stood up from his desk and offered his hand. Tabbs took it for a brief sweaty meeting of palms.

If you will excuse me, Mr. Gross. I should begin my work.

Yes, sir. I don’t wish to impose on your time, Tabbs said, but I kindly ask that you allow me to see you again after you have further reviewed the facts. Then I will leave town and return home.

Coffin stood looking at Tabbs, saying nothing for the longest time. Mr. Gross, you must know that there is no reason for you to remain in this city. Please leave at the earliest opportunity, today even. I assure you we will be in communication. In fact, you will find a wire awaiting you upon your return home.

That is so generous of you, sir. But you understand that I have come far. It will be a most difficult matter for me to return in my present unsettled state.