Three Days Before the Shooting . . .

by Ralph Ellison

  “That does it,” the detective shouted. “What’s your name?”

  “BARNES,” the pop-eyed man roared in a tone of high indignation. “The one and only, and well-known to the community! Are you satisfied? BARNES! LONNIE BARNES! And to you, Mister Barnes and a man who’s proud to be of service to this community!”

  “Now, Barnes, you listen to me,” the detective began—but with a contemptuous wave of his drumstick Barnes whirled back to the crowd.

  “So my friends—and as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—that’s all that’s happening. Therefore as your friend and fellow-tenant it’s my responsibility to hip y’all to the scam that’s going down!”

  “A.Z.,” Wilhite whispered, “I can’t figure out what’s going on, but from the way they sound some of these Negroes have got to be drunk! And this white man is right in there with them….”

  “No, Wilhite,” Hickman began, “it has to be more than that.” But now, seeing the detective turn in their direction, he held up his hand for silence.

  “Look, Officer,” he said, “could we please get this over with? I’ve tried to explain that we came here to deliver a message, and that’s the truth….”

  But suddenly the detective lunged, pushing him aside; and he whirled to see Barnes executing a dancer’s spin that ended behind the protective bodies of his fellow-tenants, and from where, stabbing a fuzzy arm at the detective, he shouted, “As you folks can plainly see, he don’t like the idea of my exposing him worth a damn. But as per usual that’s what he’s trying to do. Up to now he’s been getting away with pushing folks around while he prepares to drop him a stinking shuck, but with a man like me looking him dead in the eye he don’t know how. So now I’m spelling it out so that everybody will be forewarned the next time they see a scam like this going down:

  “First he shows up here in the line of duty—that’s right! But then, after casing the joint and finding nothing but colored folks, he decides to rename whatever it was that brought him here to his own convenience—which has got to be in the blurry category of crime….”

  “Crime,” the little woman screamed. “What crime?”

  “… and that’s because he’s a cop and, like it or not, cops live and thrive on CRIME! That’s a fact, so take it from your friend Lonnie! No cops, no crime! No crime, no cops! Either way it’s simply in keeping with the cops’ unwritten law of demand and supply. So any way you look at a cop you’re …”

  “… Up against crime,” a man agreed from the rear of the crowd.

  “That right, brother,” Barnes called with a slap of his hands. “These lousy cops eat crime, drink crime, breathe crime, and thrive on crime! And like that one standing there they buy their cheesy suits, shirts, shoes, ham hocks, and shinola with loot they make out of crime—and that includes everything from his funky drawers to the fillings in his snaggly teeth!

  “So take my word for it, his true business is breaking the law in the name of the law! And when he finds him some kind of questionable situation the stage is set. Because then all he has to do is go poking around until he finds some black man who he can drop slap-dab in the middle of it—and, behold, brothers and sisters, ladies and gents, he’s got it made!”

  “Amen,” a man shouted. “Give his butt hell!”

  “… Thank you, brother, your ‘Amen’ is most welcome…. So now, my friends,

  the rest of you are probably asking yourselves how has he been going about it in this particular instance? Well, my friends and fellow-citizens, all you have to do is gimme your ears and I’ll tell you:

  “As you all know by now he’s already picked Brother McMillen as his victim. And while I don’t know what his buddies are doing to the innocent man behind those closed doors you can bet it ain’t legal! Therefore, if I hadn’t decided to speak up, that one standing there was all set and ready to go. That’s right! Because between running out here and bossing us around he’s been in there trying to trap Brother McMillen into confessing to some bogus, unfounded, and ill-conceived circumstantial evidence! That way he means to force our neighbor, Brother McMillen, to own up to it. And if we keep standing around and letting him get away with it he’ll twist Brother McMillen so hard that he’ll give up and give in…. And then, brothers and sisters, ladies and gentlemen …”

  Barnes paused, shaking his head mournfully as he looked over the crowd, “all that so-called servant of law and order has to do is twist his Boot … and he’s got … his loot!”

  “Now Lonnie, you listen to me,” the cross-eyed woman screamed from the stairs. “You stop your referring to our people as ‘Boots,’ you hear me? Don’t do it! Don’t be giving that white man the immoral satisfaction of hearing you talking so common! Can’t you see that that’s his only reason for letting you run your big mouth? He’s the kind who likes to twist and turn everything a colored person says and does wrong-side out! And if you’d stop running your mouth long enough you’d see it! He’s just taking in everything you say so he and his friends can laugh about it! He’s the kind that has so little respect for folks like us that if he sees us ladies being escorted a few times by different gentlemen he’ll be calling us prostitutes! You know that! And that’s because as far as our people go, he has a low-rating kind of mind….”

  “… And now, Maud,” Barnes called with a judicious bow of his head, “you’re catching on to him! You’re getting his low-rating number—but it ain’t uncommon. And, like I say, after he’s yeasted a situation like we have here this evening to his own satisfaction he badmouths and blackjacks his victim ‘til he confesses. Which is how he twists the Boot for the loot—that’s right! And that, thanks to Maud’s calling it to my attention, also goes for the personal loot of you beautiful ladies who’re known far and wide for y’all’s beautiful fine brown frames!”

  “Lonnie,” the cross-eyed woman screamed, “LONNIE!”

  “… However, it is my sad duty to point out that in the case of you womenfolks Buster there makes him a fine distinction. Because instead of busting y’all for breaking the law he’ll be breaking down your doors demanding FREE TRADE! Which I would describe as his way of compounding the criminal offense of misnaming an iffy situation with the age-old crime of bearing false and malicious witness with an act of de facto—I said DE FACTO—bribery! In other words—twisting the Boot for some loot!”

  “LONNIE,” the woman screamed with a violent tug of her wig, “I HAVE TOLD YOU!”

  “… But that,” Barnes continued, “is just one more way of upending a Boot for some loot or plunder—which … in the special case of the female species … I’d define as ‘under-plunder’ or ‘booty-loot’!”

  “A.Z.,” Wilhite said in a whisper, “if I were superstitious and that woman was blazing at me like that I’d cross my fingers and spit in my hat! That crazy detective is letting Barnes’ mush-mouthed legal talk upset him, but she’s the one he has to watch—just look at those eyes!”

  With a disapproving glance at Wilhite, Hickman looked to see the little woman stab a finger at Barnes.

  “I’m telling you, Lonnie,” she screamed, “if you don’t hush up I’m going to read you! I’m warning you now: I’m going to READ you!”

  “You’re going to read who?” Barnes growled. “And where do you get the right to be threatening a man like me? Read me what? Hell, everybody in the community knows I don’t go for no little skinny women, so what can you tell them about me? Besides, this is a free country and open to all kinds of opinion! Therefore I have a right …”

  “… NO! And you listen to me, Lonnie Barnes! You listen to ME!”

  Frowning, with his forehead wrinkling beneath his stocking cap, Barnes turned to Hickman.

  “Hell, man, I been on to cops like him since I was a boy, therefore I know about his kind of hype better than anybody. So how come I have to listen to someone as ignunt as her?”

  “I’ll tell you how come,” the little woman screamed. “In the first place, you’re so full of bull doo-doo that everybody know
s it excep’ for that white man! And for another I want you to shut up so those gentlemen can listen to someone who really has problems!”

  “So you’ve finally come up with something intelligent,” Barnes said as he turned to Hickman, “because she really does have some problems! But that’s no sweat, because all she needs is some orga-ni-zation!”

  “Organization,” the little woman screamed with a stamp of her foot. “Go organize your mama!”

  And surprised by her language, Hickman exchanged glances with Wilhite as he heard Barnes shout, “Dammit, Maud, that’s going too far! What do you mean by bringing my mama into a discussion like this?”

  “MEEE?” the little woman screamed. “It was you who brought her into it yourself by acting such a clown after all the trouble she had bringing you into the world! The only reason I mentioned your mother is because of your interfering with my telling these gentlemen my troubles! So think about that and keep your big mouth shut! Yes, and stop rolling those blood-shot eyes at me!”

  “Why you little cross-eyed, nappy-headed, narrow-butted, piece-a—,” Barnes shouted. “What makes you think you can talk to me like that? Why, I’ll …”

  [MAUDE EYE]

  “OH, NO,“the detective said, “there’ll be none of that—and that’s an order!” “Order my butt,” the little woman snapped as she eyed the detective with a stare of contempt.

  “And forgive me, gentlemen, if I sound unladylike. But as you can see the only way I could get Lonnie’s attention was by mentioning his mama. And then, after he’s disturbed our peace in the middle of the night that big mouth beside him has the nerve to stand there yelling about order!

  “Anyway, gentlemen, what I’m trying to tell you is that we’re all out here at this time of night because something terrible has taken over this house—which is our home, understand? And when a thing like that happens it’s awful, but especially when it come to a woman like me. Because then she has to have her some answers! So since that white man down there won’t tell you what caused all this commotion I’ll tell you the little I know:

  “The police have Mister Rockmore, our landlord, and Mister McMillen, our super, back there in Mister Rockmore’s apartment. And while I don’t know the reason, it has to be serious. Otherwise that big-time detective, the one who’s in charge, wouldn’t be here. And now to go back a bit—and I don’t mean to be meddling—but early this evening it sounded like some kind of party was going on in Mister Rockmore’s apartment—which is truly unusual, because nobody here can remember Mister Rockmore’s ever doing any partying….”

  “And that’s the truth,” a woman called from the shadows. “He never parties….”

  “Never!” the cross-eyed woman said. “And then there was a heap of stomping around and a woman laughing and carrying on….”

  “… Yes,” a male voice said, “and all that ear-busting music!”

  “Right,” the cross-eyed woman said, “and dance music at that! And pretty soon everybody’s out here stumbling around trying to find out what’s happening. And when I rush out to see for myself there’s all kinds of rumors running riot, and I’m near knocked off my feet by the smell of whiskey! Understand?”

  “Go on, ma’am,” Hickman said, “Go on….”

  “So with folks all excited over all these white policemen invading the premises I see one in uniform who’s guarding Mister Rockmore’s door. Which truly upsets me because nobody seems to know the truth about what’s happening. And even after that white man down there comes out and starts ordering us around he refuses to tell us or let us get in to see for ourselves….”

  “Right,” Barnes said, “and that’s because him and his buddies consider Jessie Rockmore just another Boot they can twist for some loot!”

  “There he goes again, so ignore him, gentlemen,” the little woman shouted, “because what I’m telling you is as much as we know. And personally I’m calling for your help because having a thing like this happen in the middle of the night makes me feel that I’m losing my mind.

  “That’s the truth, gentlemen! Understand? And being a natural-born woman it gives me the flashes, and I mean the kind that sizzle and blister! Like I say, it’s terrible, and having to breathe this whiskied-up air is making it worse! Understand? What I mean is: When something like this hits a person like myself she doesn’t any longer know who she is, where she’s at, or what she’s doing!”

  “All right, lady,” the detective said. “I’ve let you speak your piece, so now be quiet while I get on with my duties….”

  “Listen, Mister White Man,” the little woman screamed, “you haven’t let me do anything—so forget it! Anyway, gentlemen, and as you can smell for yourselves, this building is reeking with whiskey! Which is strange, because other than for Lonnie this is a respectable building that’s never been a hangout for any winos, bootleggers, or bums. But yet and still, and even though our landlord, Mister Rockmore, is a respectable gentleman who never entertains, there’s been some heavy partying going down…. That’s the truth, gentlemen. And so now, after going this far, I might as well tell it all—because what I’m about to tell you is exactly what’s got this detective so upset: Some say that there’s a white woman …”

  “Now there she goes,” Barnes groaned as he looked at Hickman, “and it’s exactly where I knew she was headed! She’s invading the man’s privacy and dragging his bedtime business down the middle of the street! Give these old maids even a ghost of a chance and they’ll run off at the mouth like a broken-down faucet!”

  “Oh, shut up, fool,” the little woman snapped. “All I’m trying to do is give these gentlemen the facts. That’s all I’m trying to do. So gentlemen, as I was saying, everybody who lives in this building knows that when it comes to entertaining, Mister Rockmore has as little to do with white folks as he has with colored—which is very little by anybody’s standard. Therefore I have serious doubts about him partying with a white woman—because if that’s what he wanted he has plenty of us colored to choose from.

  “So I’m asking you gentlemen: What does it mean? We’re crowding this hall because we want to help our good neighbors in their time of distress, but as things now stand we don’t know its name, we don’t know its face, and to be blunt about it, we don’t even know its race! Which is truly upsetting. Because like any good neighbors we want to be helpful, but we simply don’t know where to start. Our peace has been disturbed since around about midnight but all we can get out of that rookie detective down there is some stupid talk about Mister McMillen being a bootlegger—which as all of us know is nothing but garbage! So now that you two fine, intelligent-looking gentlemen have stepped into this mess and haven’t been here long enough to get confused, I’m asking you to please, please tell me something that I personally need to know—Which is, what shall we dooo?”

  “What shall you do,” Barnes shouted with a step toward the stairs. “Dammit, Maud, the answer is organize and pick you a leader! Which is what I been telling you Negroes for years!”

  “Yes, gentlemen,” the little woman said, “and Lonnie thinks he’s a leader, but all he does is rant and rave and make threats like he has some kind of invisible army behind him. And then, when things come to a showdown, he’s off in some bar swilling his beer! Which is probably the reason the white folks keep letting the old micturating clown run around Washington yelling about Marcus Garvey and changing Old Glory from red-white-and-blue to red-white-and-black—so hush, Lonnie Barnes!”

  “And that goes for you too,” the detective said with a frown. “Cut the talk or I’m booking you for subversion and resisting an officer.”

  “Resisting an officer,” the little woman screamed. “Man, what’s the matter, can’t you stand hearing the truth? Am I breaking the law by telling these gentlemen what’s been happening? And besides, how’re you going to arrest me—sprout wings and fly over the heads of my neighbors? Shucks, man!”

  “I mean it,” the detective said, “and when I do there’ll be plenty of force t
o support me!”

  “Yes, and then you’ll brutalize me the way those others are brutalizing Mister McMillen!”

  “That’s right, Maud, tell him about it,” a man called from the crowd.

  “No, she’s mistaken,” the detective said, “because no one’s laid a finger on McMillen, he’s only being questioned….”

  “That’s what you say,” the little woman snapped as she pointed a finger, “but we know better! And now, gentlemen, before I’m interrupted again I’d like you to answer me this: How long are our menfolks going to keep standing by while these white police run around dragging their filthy-dirty minds into neighborhoods where we colored folks are forced to live whether we like it or not? That’s what I want to know! How long are our D.C. menfolks going to stand for it?”

  “But, ma’am,” Wilhite said, “why are you asking us? We just walked through the door….”

  “I know, and that’s exactly why I’m calling on you for an answer! I know you’re strangers, but since you’ve shown up in the middle of the night and at a time when all this trouble’s upon us you must have been sent here for a purpose….”

  And suddenly with hands on her hips the little woman leaned forward and stared at Hickman with a sudden widening of her cross-focusing eyes.

  “Wha … what happened to the other one, gentlemen? Why isn’t he with you?”

  “With whom, ma’am,” Hickman said. “What are you saying?”

  “With the other one, your friend …”

  “But, lady,” Wilhite said, “nobody came here with us—who are you talking about?”

  “Oh, but yes he did,” the woman said with a defiant toss of her warp-wigged head, “when you two gentlemen started out there had to be three of you. There must have been! So what happened, did he stop by the way to have him a beer?”

  “Madam,” Wilhite shouted, “what are you talking about! Who do you mean?”