Ishmael Reed - Mumbo Jumbo

We’ve been banned in Boston! We’ve made it. (As a journalist in the 1932 movie Doctor X said, “Sensationalism? Why the sons of guns love it.”)

While the staff celebrate, Hinckle Von Vampton contemplates his next move. He glances at the poll he devised as a feature for the newspaper. The Jazz Poll. Bix Beiderbeck wins the Trumpet category. Paul Whiteman the Big Band. Something is missing. Something colored. It will take time to get the Talking Android. In the meantime they need a Negro Viewpoint.

ACROSS TOWN THE CITY room of the New York Tribune is in stitches. The reporters, rewrite men and managing editor are on the floor convulsed with laughter. Woodrow Wilson Jefferson stands in the middle of the room barefoot, his bags dropping chicken feathers, his cuffs the length of what are called “high waters.” He is bewildered at the response he is receiving.

The cherubic-faced balding man sitting at the desk prods Jefferson. Tell us again who you want to meet?

Why…why Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels.

Another round of laughter. But when the editor-in-chief walks into the room they stop.

What’s going on here? Don’t you know we got an edition to get out. You. C’mere.

Jefferson points to himself.

Yeah, you. C’mere.

Jefferson walks up to the man.

Now, what’s on your mind, Mac?

I want to meet Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels.

Well they don’t work here no more, they were promoted. Now get outta here.

The city room breaks up. Woodrow Wilson Jefferson slowly walks out, undaunted. He is an ambitious man. If he wasn’t going to find these men here, he was going to return to the room he rents above Frimbo’s Funeral Home and look them up in the phone book. He is walking down University Street in Greenwich Village when he comes upon the sign in the window.

NEGRO VIEWPOINT WANTED

As soon as Woodrow Wilson enters the office of the Benign Monster holding the sign, Hinckle Von Vampton starts licking his chops.

Yes young man, what can I do for you?

I came about the Negro Viewpoint job.

Yes, what is your experience?

I have read all the 487 articles written by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels and know them by heart.

The perfect candidate, Hinckle Von Vampton decides. He doesn’t mind the shape of the idol: sexuality, economics, whatever, as long as it is limited to 1.

You’re hired.

But don’t you want to hear about my contributions to the County Seed packages, my descriptions of the bulbs and the germs?

That’s enough. You’ve convinced me.

Hinckle Von Vampton informs Woodrow Wilson Jefferson of his salary and the other terms of the position as Negro Viewpoint.

We’ve an office for you in the rear of Spiraling Agony, my estate, and you will also be required to perform certain chores in addition to your responsibility as a columnist. We are doubling-up due to our very limited resources.

Well what will my double-up be? Woodrow Wilson asks, overjoyed at having found a job the 2nd day in New York.

Ask the cook when you reach Spiraling Agony.

Hinckle Von Vampton summons 1 of his drivers to take Woodrow Wilson to a rented room above Frimbo’s Funeral Home in Harlem to gather his things and then go on to Long Island.

1 thing, Mr. Von Vampton?

Yes, what is that Woodrow?

Can you introduce me to Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels?

…Hinckle thinks he would have to really mold this 1 but it would give him good practice for when he discovered the Android. Come into my office just 1 moment, Woodrow. I’ll explain.

S.R.: IN HAITI IT WAS PAPA LOA, IN NEW ORLEANS IT WAS PAPA LABAS, IN CHICAGO IT WAS PAPA JOE. THE LOCATION MAY SHIFT BUT THE FUNCTION REMAINS THE SAME. CREOLE BANDS CONCEAL JES GREW FROM CHICAGO’S PSYCHIC DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC HEALTH. ERZULIE WITH HER FAST SELF IS SHELTERED IN A “VOCALISING” TRUMPET WHICH SINGS FROM MUTE TO GROWL. LEGBA TAKES REQUESTS FROM BEHIND THE DERBY-COVERED BELL OF A “TALKING” SLIDE-TROMBONE. (He is a loa who has always worked for his keep.—I.R.)

A few months later Hinckle Von Vampton has familiarized himself with Afro-American literature of the 20s. He has written the 14 people who are sending the book about in a chain. None has answered however. The mails are terribly slow. Often it seems that the U.S. government service national state and local is in a state of collapse. (In Boston there is a police strike.) But as soon as he received the book he would burn it. And if that didn’t dissolve it the Talking Android would certainly remove its steam.

He has already interviewed 3 candidates for the position of Talking Android, the 2nd phase of the plan to stamp out Jes Grew. They had declined; explaining that as potential victims they did not feel that they would be immune to its drawing power. Well, there are 3 months left; surely someone will turn up. Hinckle’s disguise in Manhattan circles is that of Negrophile, patron-of-the-arts and of course controversial publisher of the Benign Monster magazine. He has attended many parties and come in contact with the poets, novelists, even being invited to a reception at Irvington-on-Hudson, and finding the Hostess “charming” and “vivacious.” The circulation of the magazine has soared since the article or story about Wa-Wa who went down to the railroad station and was handled by all of those conductors.

Tonight, he sits in his dressing gown, picking at a snack of tiny non-poisonous snakes, crocodile eggs and Nile crabs, provided for him by W. W. Jefferson’s other duty. As he sits enjoying this meal, he thinks about his next plans in recruitment.

Don’t know what to do with W.W. If he wasn’t so good at gathering these er…er…delicacies. What’s this? mmmmmm-mmmmmmmmmmm-MMM! Weeds gathered at the grave site of a recently dead infant? Why I haven’t savored this since…well since those parties we used to have many many years ago in our private guarded Chapter House…W.W. would be all right if he’d just avoid those Marxist-Engelian and sociological clichés. Economics, integration, separation…capitalism. No one took this seriously. Why, this Soviet business would blow over. Each day the New York Times experts were predicting that the monarchy would be returned to power and when this happened then his magazine would seem out of step with the times which was ½ of its appeal — being-in. His column only did 1 thing…confuse the state of Black letters which was good because then they would be isolated and he could be like the wolf approaching the sheep who wanders away from the variegated herd. Yes indeed W.W.’s column which pitted 1 writer against the other called “The Pat Juber”…saying each new writer made the former resemble…how had W.W. put it, “resemble interlocutor in a minstrel show?” This column had its good points, but W.W. didn’t seem to have that razzle-dazzle. That jargon he used bored people…A…here comes the dope now.

Hinckle Von Vampton is content. He daubs his 2 faint pink lines where lips should be.

I don’t know what I would do without you, W.W., he says between jawfuls to W.W. who is refilling Von Vampton’s cup of tea. Where were you able to find these morsels which so intrigue my palate?

I’m glad you like them, Mr. Von Vampton. When you told me you had the junkie tongue for these types of food I sought them out. It turned out that they were near me all the time. You see when you told me that Mr. Marx and Mr. Engels were dead it was such a blow to me I went to this potter’s field out in the country to meditate. There was a swamp near by the tombstones and there I found many crawling things.