Catfish Alley

by Lynne Bryant

  "Would you look at that?" says Adelle. "She's acting right interested in this old place."

  "We'll see," I say. I'm still not sure about this woman.

  She disappears around the back for several minutes and then comes hurrying back to the car. Gets in all out of breath.

  "This place has incredible potential," she says, all excited. "I don't know a whole lot about the buildings in this particular era, but I can tell from some of the woodwork and finishes that it could be really beautiful. When do you think we can go inside?"

  I have to admit, I'm a little surprised by her enthusiasm. I look over at Adelle and she smiles like she's saying, I told you so.

  "We'll need to get the key from Mattie," I say. Truth be told, I'm not sure this woman is ready for Mattie Webster. But I keep this to myself. Come to think of it, might be interesting to see Roxanne Reeves and Mat-tie Webster in the same room. "I tell you what," I say as I make the decision, "let's head over to Pineview and see if we can get Mattie interested."

  "I don't believe I've visited this particular nursing home before," Roxanne says as we approach Pineview.

  "No, I reckon not," I say.

  Not many white people come to this side of town. I imagine all those old people she knows from the Junior League and the Garden Club live in those nice senior citizen centers with manicured lawns and flower gardens with rocking chairs on the porch.

  There's nothing manicured about Pineview. It's a simple one-story brick building with four wings jutting out from a central nursing station. As Roxanne and Adelle and I walk through the sliding glass doors into the sterile-looking lobby, I can see Roxanne trying not to crinkle up her little nose as the smell of age hits her head-on. I don't know why Mattie Webster insists on staying in this rundown place, either, but she's stubborn and there's been no changing her mind.

  It's as if Adelle is reading my thoughts. "I don't know why Mattie thinks she has to stay here," she complains. "With all her money, she could be in one of those nice places over on the other side of town."

  "Now, Adelle, you know Mattie likes it here," I say. "She doesn't give a hoot about those fancy homes. You and I better count our blessings. If we have to go into a home, this will probably be all we can afford!" I think then about Pecan Cottage and how I probably should count my lucky stars that I can live in a big old house like that. I just hope I keep my faculties about me. If I have my way about it, they'll take me out of there in a pine box.

  As we stop to hug and love on our old friends and neighbors parked in their wheelchairs along the long corridor, Roxanne trails behind us, looking uncomfortable.

  Pineview is a right gloomy place, but I swear all of that gloom disappears when we walk into the room labeled Matilda Webster. Mattie's got the walls painted a warm yellow the color of butter. She's hung some flowered curtains at the window and she has them open to let in the late-morning sunshine that has temporarily broken through the clouds. Through the window, I can see that bright red bird feeder Billy gave her for Christmas. Birds are all over that thing, pushing at each other to get to the food.

  Mattie insisted on bringing her own furniture from the hotel; I believe it's called Art Deco style. I remember Roxanne mentioning some kind of word like that when she got back in the car after looking in the windows at the Queen City. I'm certainly no expert at decorating style. Roxanne stops and bends down to look at the table by the door. And, of course, she stops to study the pictures. Mattie's got pictures of herself and Robert, Jr., with all the great musicians who came to the hotel back in the day: Mr. Louis Armstrong, Pearl Bailey, James Brown, B. B. King, Duke Ellington. Oh, those were the glory days of the Queen City Hotel. You can tell from the pictures how beautiful it was then.

  As usual, Mattie is dozing in her big old wing chair in the corner. She's got her record player going, and Billie Holiday's voice fills the room. Mattie's wearing her red pantsuit and her hair is combed into tight curls that frame her face. Mattie Webster always was a beauty. We used to say she looked like Lena Home with those high cheekbones and light skin.

  Adelle and I tiptoe over and pat Mattie on the arm.

  "Mattie, dear, wake up. It's Grace and Adelle come to visit," I say softly into her ear. Her eyes open and she looks confused at first; then she recognizes us and smiles with that mouthful of white teeth of hers.

  "My girls!" she says in her deep voice. "How y'all been?"

  Mattie reaches up and puts an arm around each of us as we stoop to kiss her cheeks. She sees Roxanne standing there, just inside the door, pulls Adelle down to her and asks in a loud whisper, "Who's that white woman?"

  I walk over and take Roxanne's arm and guide her closer to Mattie. "Mattie, this is Mrs. Roxanne Reeves. She is the director of the Pilgrimage Tour here in Clarksville. She wanted to meet you."

  Roxanne smiles politely.

  Mattie scowls. "Home tour? Why does she want to meet me? Ain't nobody in my family ever worn no hoopskirt! Why you bringing some white woman running a show about big houses with slaves running around waiting on white people hand and foot to see me?"

  Adelle always gets nervous when Mattie starts acting like this. "Now, Mattie," she says. "Be nice. Mrs. Reeves here wants to talk to you about the Queen City Hotel."

  "The Queen City? Since when do they want a black hotel on the home tour? Ain't that the wrong side of town for all those Yankees from up North? They might get the wrong impression about how black folks live if you take them over to my side of town, you know. Ain't that right, Grace?"

  I smile. Mattie always did have a wicked sense of humor. Adelle is still patting Mat-tie's arm and looking horrified. Roxanne stands there with her mouth open, trying to figure out what to say. I think I might enjoy this.

  "Roxanne here is trying to start an African-American tour, Mattie. Let people see some of the historical places of black folks in this area. We thought the Queen City Hotel should be part of that tour. We thought we might get the key from you so's Roxanne can look inside the place."

  Mattie is still scowling. She reaches into a crocheted bag hanging over the arm of her chair and pulls out her Jim Beam. Roxanne's eyebrows shoot up as Mattie picks up a coffee cup on the table beside her chair. She hands the cup to Adelle.

  "Pour that out for me, will you, Adelle?"

  Adelle obediently carries the cup over to the sink and rinses it out. She gives the cup back to Mattie, who proceeds to pour herself a drink. A look of sadness suddenly comes over Mattie's face.

  "I'm afraid the Queen City Hotel is not in any shape for tourists. Most places around here where black folks did business back in our day are either all shut up or have been torn down. Why would anybody want to tour that?" Mattie looks directly at Roxanne for the first time, her black eyes challenging, her mouth set in a defiant line.

  Poor Roxanne! She looks like she's about to cry. Here she is trying to do the right thing by the black folks and we are just not cooperating. I almost feel sorry for her. I reckon right now she wishes she was at home worrying over what kind of lace to sew on the next dress she's having made for some little white girl working in the tour. But Mattie's not done with her yet.

  "Mrs. Reeves, come over here and sit down."

  She points with her gnarled old fingers to the bed beside her chair. Roxanne obeys, just like Adelle did. That's what people do when Mattie Webster speaks. Adelle and I pull some chairs from over by the sink closer to Mattie. This should be good.

  Mattie studies Roxanne for what seems like forever before she finally asks, "Just what kind of information are you planning to give to the people who take this tour?"

  Roxanne looks at us as if we'll answer, but we are as curious as Mattie is to hear her answer.

  "Well, um ... I'm not sure yet, Mrs. Webster. I'm just trying to learn about places around here myself." Roxanne fidgets and clears her throat. "I'm planning to have the traditional historical markers that list the year the structure was built and a short amount of information about it. Those would be placed near the s
treet where people could see them from a car...."

  Mattie interrupts. "So this is going to be a driving tour. People just get in their cars and drive around on their own?"

  "No, ma'am, not exclusively. I was thinking we would do a guided tour. Have someone with a good knowledge of the area conduct the tours and explain about the locations. Um ... maybe the Queen City could be a bed-and-breakfast ... or some kind of place for meetings."

  I decide to chime in. "Adelle has agreed to let her house be on the tour. They'll be talking about Dr. Jackson."

  Mattie looks from Adelle to me and back.

  "Y'all are like sisters to me. We've been through more together in the years we've known each other than I ever thought a human being could bear. How can you want to have people tour all of those places where all of our memories are? How can you stand to have them talking about how wonderful everything was when we know the truth?" There is a hard edge to Mattie's voice. "Especially you, Adelle, after what happened to you. And, Grace, what about what happened to Zero?"

  Adelle looks down at her hands and doesn't say a word. I stand up and go over to the window to study the birds. I don't know what to say. Mattie's right. Every place I take Roxanne Reeves has some memory of my own or my people. They aren't all bad. It's just that, with memory, I can't have one kind without the other. They all come to me together these days. This woman is just doing her job. She doesn't have any idea what she's opened up. Oh, Lord, she's talking again.

  "Ladies, we don't want to deliberately dredge up any painful memories for people. We want to showcase the successes of the black, um, African-American people in this community. I guess we thought it would help y'all feel more included, um ... not ignored."

  Mattie snorts. "Mrs. Reeves, it don't work that way. You might be able to dress your little white girls up in pretty hoopskirts and have them sashay around the big house telling people about the fancy furniture and the big parties and the barbecues on the lawn. But you can't tell the history of the black people of this community and leave out the pain. They are one and the same." Mattie's getting her dander up. She pours another finger of Jim Beam.

  I can tell Roxanne doesn't know what to say, so I decide to try again. I'm still not sure why I'm doing this.

  "Mattie, you're right: A lot of things have happened over the years, good and bad. But can't we —"

  "People need to know, Grace. People need to understand. Is this tour going to help people understand, or is it just another gimmick white people have come up with to make it sound like things have always been fine down here? Make it sound like we're just complaining all the time and not willing to work hard?"

  After a moment I reply, "I don't have the answer to that yet, Mattie. Adelle and I just brought Roxanne here so that you could tell your part of the story. And we thought this tour might help your Billy get interested in Clarksville again. Maybe inspire her to figure out something to do with the old place. Roxanne told me there's money available to fix up places like the Queen and other historic places that have gotten rundown."

  "Billy's not going to come down here and fix up the Queen. She's got no interest in that old place. She's hardly got the time to come see her grandmother. It's different where she lives up in Chicago. She gets some respect up there now. It's not like here."

  Adelle, who has been sitting there listening quietly, speaks up. "We can't live our lives hating, Mattie. It just doesn't do any good. You remember what my papa always said?"

  "Yes, I know, I know. 'Keep moving forward.' But your daddy was an educated black man. He was a doctor. He didn't have the same problems as the poor working black folks around here."

  "Now you just hold on a minute, Mattie Webster!" Adelle snaps. It makes everybody jump. "It wasn't always easy for my papa—"

  "Sisters, sisters!" I say, interrupting Adelle. 'Let's not argue among ourselves. Let's remember the good times. Let's tell Roxanne about the night Louis Armstrong played at the Queen City."

  Adelle and Mattie both nod. I always could distract them.

  "What happened?" asks Roxanne.

  "Grace, you tell it," says Adelle. "You're the best storyteller."

  "All right then," I say. "It was so exciting! Mr. Louis Armstrong was booked for the Clarksville Auditorium, but Robert Webster talked him into doing a late-night show just for the black folks. We couldn't go to the show at the auditorium, you know."

  "What do you mean you couldn't go to the show at the Clarksville Auditorium?" Roxanne asks.

  I'm beginning to think this woman is a little thick in the head. When is she going to understand? "They didn't allow colored people to go there."

  "Not even to hear a black musician?"

  "No, we weren't allowed in. But it didn't matter that night because we were going to have our own show! And the best part was that Mr. Louis Armstrong himself asked Junior to play that night. Adelle and I had just graduated high school and Zero was working to save money for Alcorn State —"

  Adelle interrupts me. "I was just beside myself because Zero wasn't there to take me to that show."

  I think of Zero's beautiful, smiling face, looking at me across Grandma's kitchen table that afternoon. I was irritated with him because he was going to be late, if he made it to the show at all. He kept saying he had business to attend to. "Don't you fret, Grace," he said. "I'll try to get there, but this is something I need to do." Everything changed after that night. But Roxanne doesn't need to hear that part of the story.

  Chapter 5

  August 1931

  Grace

  Adelle and I are upstairs in her bedroom primping. Adelle's taking longer to get ready than me, even though Zero's not here to take her to the show.

  "Ain't you girls ready yet?" Junior calls up the staircase. I step down to the landing and peer over the rail so I can see him in the foyer, pacing back and forth.

  "You just hold your horses, Junior. We'll be down in a minute," I call down to him. I can see him looking in the mirror, fixing his tie. Mrs. Jackson walks through on her way to the kitchen.

  "Don't you let me hear you say 'ain't' again," she scolds, and then smiles up at him. She brushes a piece of lint from his jacket. I can see from the landing that she's got tears in her eyes.

  "You look so much like your father," she says as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

  "Are you sure you and Papa can't come tonight, Mama? This is my big chance to break in. Just think, Mama, Louis Armstrong! I'm going to play piano with Louis Armstrong. Do you have any idea how famous he is?" Junior is lit up like a Christmas tree with excitement.

  "Now, Junior, you know your papa has patients he has to visit. But we'll be thinking about you. I know you're going to make us proud. Besides, you know this kind of music isn't exactly what your papa likes."

  "I know, Mama, but if he would just come hear it one time. It gets in your blood, you know." Junior starts tapping his foot, then moves his shoulders to a rhythm in his head. "And then before you know it, you just got to move!" He grabs his mama and swings her around the foyer, scat singing the rhythm of the music.

  Mrs. Jackson laughs and throws her head back. I stand at the stair rail watching the two of them. Lord have mercy, I love to see Junior Jackson move! He will never be as serious as his daddy. I think his mama secretly loves that Junior wants to play jazz music for a living. Now that Zero's talking seriously about college, maybe Junior's daddy will ease up on him just a little bit. After all, Zero's like another son to Dr. Jackson. Zero has worshipped Dr. Jackson since the day Junior and the boys brought him here after he took that beating from Ray Tanner and his gang.

  Finally Adelle is ready and we walk slowly own the stairs to show off our finery. Mrs. Jackson and Junior look up to watch us, and we giggle as Junior lets out a low whistle.

  "Whew, Lordy, don't y'all look fine!" I can't help but notice Junior never takes his eyes off me. I get that same little quiver inside that I always do when I'm around him.

  My new dress is white with a b
lue ribbon around the waist and I've got my hair done up in that new curled style. I'm even wearing lipstick, which is rare. I hope it'll make Junior want to kiss me.

  "Oh, Mama," Adelle whines, "I feel like such a third wheel. I hardly get to see Zero anymore and he's never here for the important things."

  Mrs. Jackson puts her arm around Adelle. "Now, sugar, you know Thomas is working as hard as he can to save money for college. He'd be here if he could; you know that."

  "I know, I know," Adelle says. "I just miss him, that's all. There won't be anyone there for me to dance with tonight."

  "I'll dance with you, sis," Junior offers. "That is" — he puts his arm around me — "if my beautiful date doesn't mind."

  I smile and push him away. "Don't be silly, Junior Jackson. Of course I don't mind. Besides, once you get up on that stage, you're probably not going to even know Adelle and I are there for the rest of the evening. We'll be lucky to get a ride home, won't we, Adelle?"

  We laugh and make our way out to the porch. As we're getting into Junior's old Model T, Dr. Jackson drives up. He waves at us, and Junior calls from the car window, "Sure wish you would come to the show, Papa. It's going to be great."

  Dr. Jackson smiles stiffly and nods his head, as if he can't quite hear what Junior is saying.

  "Let's go, Junior," Adelle says. "I don't want to be late!"

  The Queen City Hotel is already crowded when we arrive. Colored people from all over Mississippi, Louisiana, and Alabama have driven in to see the show. There are old cars, new cars, trucks, wagons, and even a few mules tied in the shade of the big magnolia trees out back. Robert Webster himself is standing out on the front porch of the hotel, wearing a fine suit and shaking hands with everyone coming in.

  Adelle and I look around for our friend Mat-tie Johnson. Mattie will be dateless tonight, too, since her beau, Robert Webster, Jr., will be helping his daddy keep everything running.

  Adelle spots her first. "There she is, over here by the door. Oh, my, look at her dress!"

  Mattie Johnson is wearing a red, close-fitting dress that flares out at the bottom and a matching cloche hat. She outshines us, as usual, with those perfectly placed curls and stylish clothes.