Ishmael Reed - The Last Days of Louisiana Red

Radio: Still unconfirmed reports are trickling in from a shoot-out at the Berkeley Marina. As reported earlier this morning, two men apparently in a case of mistaken identity mortally wounded each other in gun battle. KDIA will keep you posted on further developments .

“What do you suppose it means, Minnie? Do you think that LaBas and Wolf have been injured?”

“No. Most likely an internal feud among the Workers. We’ll never know. You know how secretive they are.”

(Sister rises to go to the telephone.) “I’d better call and find out.”

“I’m amazed it’s even made the radio. They usually keep their little squabbles among themselves, never issuing information to anyone. Elitists,” Minnie says sourly.

Radio: More details are coming in on the shoot-out which took place at the Berkeley Marina early today. In what was apparently a case of mistaken identity in which each man got the wrong one, two brothers, the popular Street (the sisters gasp) Yellings, leader of the Moochers, and Wolf, his brother, Vice President of Solid Gumbo Works, shot it out, leaving each other dead . (Sister screams, throwing a hand over her mouth) The scene of the double murder is shrouded in heavy fog. Eyewitnesses claim that when the blaze of gunfire ceased, the two men could be seen in the death embrace .

(Minnie and Sister go to the closet, put on their coats and exit.)

LaBas sat inside his apartment on Grant Street, reading a copy of Fate magazine by candlelight. Fate magazine was pretty good at predicting the future. They had predicted in an interview carried in October 1963 that J.F.K. would be assassinated in November of 1963.

“I’m finished, Pop. Is there anything else you want? Something to drink?” (She advertised herself as “Madame. On San Pablo Avenue — Hablo Español. Readings $5.00. With this ad $2.00.”) She was a good old-fashioned woman who didn’t believe that housekeeping was beneath her. Housekeeping was important to LaBas; he thought that it was the only way one could be sure of security.

He had abandoned his woolens, sturdy boots and eastern attire for jerseys, corduroys and light footwear when he came to the west coast. He relaxed in the Worker’s garment worn only in privacy so as not to draw attention; a black blouse, black cotton pants. He was wearing the jet equilateral cross on a chain around his neck. The Watson cross.

“No, I don’t think so, though I know you make good drinks.” He gave her a check for her services.

“I did the floors with Van Van floor wash, and in front of each room I sprinkled some Silver Magnetic Sand. I scrubbed your room with Oil of Verbena and Oil of Rosemary.”

“Good.”

“Your bath water is drawn, and I put some Special Oil No. 22 in it.”

“That’s fine. You really do the job. Please lock the door when you go out.”

She stood there for a moment. She was wearing a kerchief over her beautifully wrinkled crone face. She wore a blouse and a colorful Haitian skirt.

“Pop, is there anything wrong?”

“Well, I don’t understand why Street would want to muscle in on the Solid Gumbo Works. His brother, Wolf, said he was never really concerned about it. I have a hunch somebody put him up to it, but I can’t prove it.”

“You want a reading?”

“No, not at this point. I’d like to solve this riddle myself.”

“If you want a reading, you know where to reach me.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“The people tell me that the boys were really put away nicely. I was talking to one of the sisters at the Pick ’n Pack supermarket. She said the Argivians looked so nice in their uniforms. Wolf and Street were real handsome in their caskets. That was good of you to put them away so nice, LaBas.”

“I did what I had to do. I told Wolf to get rid of that pistol. He wouldn’t listen. When he drew the pistol, that made the Argivians nervous. They ran, leaving Street behind. He was forced by his stupid machismo to stay there and pull his. A real old west scenario. I once saw a photo of Shattuck Avenue made in the 1850s. It looked like a set in Shane .”

“Yes, Pop. It was a bad fog that day. A friend of mine drove into a Berkeley entrance from route 101 and almost went over the divider on University Avenue, the fog was so thick.”

“I just can’t understand who would be behind Street. I know they brought him to spy on us, but it couldn’t be Minnie because they were representing rival factions of the Moochers. That doesn’t make sense unless she is more cunning than her words speak.”

(Telephone rings)

“I’ll get it, Pop.”

The domestic, Sister Jackson, went and picked up the phone. She returned to the room, running.

“Pop, you’d better come here quick, Solid Gumbo Works is afire.”

(Brother Brown and Fish walk toward each other on Telegraph Avenue. It has been two weeks since their falling-out. When they see each other, they both cross to the other side of the street. Noticing this, they start to return to their original side; when halfway across, they see that the other has done the same thing. They return to the side of the street opposite the one they started on. Then they try to walk past each other. They remain stationary, look at the sidewalk and then stare into the store windows, all the while looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Fish has a bandage still from where Andy cut him. Then, shyly, they walk towards each other with their heads down. They look up, and each simultaneously extends his hand to the other.)

Kingfish: Put er there … I mean—

Andy: Look, I—

Kingfish: Well, you started it by—

Andy: If you hadn’t—

Kingfish: Aw, Brother Brown, let’s be friends, fellow Moochers.

Andy: Yeah, that’s my philosophy too, Fish. Forgive and forget.

Kingfish: That’s right, Brown, I’ll forgive and I’ll forget. (Andy scratches his head) You know, I been thinking, Brown, the future is ours and all, but I’m still broke. The landlady put me out today. Aw, what I gonna do? Holy Mackerel there.

Andy: Yeah, Fish, I’m in the same boat that you am. Pretty soon it’ll be winter and I’m really uptight for money.

(A youth in saffron-colored robes and a shaved head walks by. Fish studies the man as he solicits them. They refuse. He smiles and walks on.)

Kingfish: Hey, that gimme an idea. You know, I see them boys up there at Sather Gate, saying Karmels over and over again, and people be putting coin into their hats. (Strokes chin) You know, Andy, I think it’s about time we went into the Karmel bizness.

Ms. Better Weather’s voice is heard on the intercom. “Rufus Whitfield of Gumbo Security is here to see you, sir.”

“Send him in.” Rufus enters. He is a large negro man with sharkskin suit, alligator shoes, skinny brim hat, pencil-thin mustache, Johnny Walker eyes.

“Rufus. It’s a good thing we saved most of the building. Terrible fire. Wonder who could have done it. Argivians?”

“That’s why I came up here. It wasn’t the Argivians.”

“What’s that?”

“Weren’t no Argivians who set that fire.”

“You know who it is? Why didn’t you use your techniques to repel them? Why didn’t you arrest them?”

“We were being true to our reputations. We had gone through the entire routine which would have been enough to repel them. My men were checking out some of the hostile waves being sent out. We thought they were from some of those hippie organizations.”