Being Clem
Page 16
I had never in my life thought about running a newspaper until I started delivering them. Every morning, when I sat folding them, it took me twice as long as some of the other boys, at first because I needed to get the hang of the fold, but then, even after I figured how to fold them just right, I couldn’t stop reading the stories. Articles they called them, from all around the world. It felt like traveling without ever leaving Chicago and made me wonder if I could be one of those Defender reporters traveling to all the places I’ve seen on my maps and writing stories from Japan and Europe. Having the time all to myself in early-morning Chicago was the part I wasn’t looking forward to because it was the only time of the day when I had to be quiet. But with the quiet came time for me to think about things that my talking didn’t let me think about. Things about Lymon, Errol, Langston, Kendrick, K.J., Clarisse, Annette, and Momma. But mostly things about me and Daddy.
Instead of thinking if my daddy would be proud of me doing this on my own and helping my family, I realized for once I wasn’t thinking about my daddy, my momma, or my sisters. I was thinking how for the first time, I was proud of me. I wasn’t sure if this was what bravery felt like or what responsibility felt like. But it sure felt good.
I was Clemson Thurber Junior. Clemson. Clem. I was all of those. Not half my daddy, but part him and part Momma too, but mostly me. I couldn’t spend my time worrying about who I was supposed to be. I was finally happy with just being Clem.
Author’s Note
Writing historical fiction allows me to research and explore periods from America’s past that were never discussed in the classrooms of my youth. In Finding Langston, I boarded a train during the Great Migration, wandered alongside young Langston in the stacks of Chicago’s Cleveland Hall Branch library and read the poetry of Langston Hughes. In Leaving Lymon, I traveled to Mississippi, heard the stories of prisoners in Parchman State Penitentiary, and sang along to the music of traveling blues musicians. And now, in Being Clem, the final book in the Finding Langston trilogy, I journeyed to San Francisco and the site of the Port Chicago Disaster and cheered as the Bud Billiken Parade marched by. In each of these journeys into the past, I am faced time and again, with the stories of people who in their quest for fairness, respect, and equality, were instead faced with injustice and discrimination. Yet the obstacles they encountered at every turn produced not just anger and frustration, rebellion and hurt, but more often determination, resilience, perseverance, creativity, joy, and love. Each of these books represents pieces of an often-overlooked history of Blacks in this country, and reminds me that through every hurt and pain Blacks have experienced, the strength of family and community remained intact.
On July 17, 1944, the fictional Clem Thurber’s life was forever altered by the real-life events of the Port Chicago Disaster. Located in the San Francisco Bay, the Port Chicago naval base was home to hundreds of servicemen who had enlisted to serve their country during World War Two. Black men who joined the armed forces prepared to fight in service of their country were instead shipped to parts of the country to perform the most menial and dangerous tasks that white soldiers did not want to perform. At the Port Chicago base, Black soldiers loaded explosives, bombs, and ammunition from train cars onto ships that were then transported to the white forces fighting the Japanese in the Pacific.
Previously, white stevedores, or dock workers, who held this dangerous job, were provided with safety instruction and manuals. Yet white officers, believing Black sailors were unable to comprehend written manuals, offered none. The soldiers worked in shifts and devised their own methods to safely load the explosives. They rightly feared that one wrong move could result in their deaths.
On the evening of July 17, 1944, shortly after lights out in the barracks, a loud explosion reverberated through the base. Men scrambled, thinking they were being bombed by the enemy. The explosion was so strong, that some were lifted off of their mattresses as they slept, and the barracks collapsed around them.
In the early morning light, the devastation of the bomb blast became clear. The entire pier, along with the remains of the two ships, were blown to shreds. One of the ships had been carrying nearly ten million pounds of explosives. Black sailors were assigned the task of retrieving the body parts of the sailors who were aboard the ship from the Pacific Ocean, none of whom remained intact after the explosion. Of the three hundred people presumed to be at the waterfront when the explosion happened, only fifty-one bodies were able to be identified. And, of the 320 men killed, 202 of them were Black sailors who were on the evening shift, loading ammunition. Clem’s father Clemson would have been one of the men who did not survive the blast.
Just months after the tragedy, surviving sailors were ordered to return to work. Some of the men, fearing retribution, did return. But fifty others, named the Port Chicago 50, refused to do so, and were court martialed and charged with mutiny for defying their commanding officer’s orders. The penalty if found guilty: death by firing squad.
A young Black civil rights attorney for the NAACP named Thurgood Marshall, who had been traveling throughout the country representing discrimination cases of Black enlisted men, was called in to represent the men. Marshall had witnessed many cases of racism throughout the military. On some bases, Black soldiers had to wait to eat until white soldiers were served first. On others they had to clean the toilets in white barracks. Most often when the soldiers left the base for a day of liberty, they faced other threats from white residents in nearby cities who refused them service in restaurants and bars. The NAACP and Black newspapers throughout the country helped to publicize the stories of the Port Chicago 50 and thousands signed petitions to demand their release. Despite all of those efforts and the tireless work of Marshall, the men were found guilty. As they awaited their sentence, the war ended. On January 7, 1946, after sixteen months in prison, the U. S. Navy quietly released the men from prison and returned them to active duty. The U.S. Navy never admitted to wrongfully convicting the men. On July 26, 1948, President Truman signed an Executive Order desegregating the U.S. military. Thurgood Marshall went on to become the first African American Justice to serve on the United States Supreme Court.
The United States Congress wrote up legislation to compensate the families of the Black sailors with grants in the amount of $5,000, which in today’s dollars would amount to approximately $72,000. However, one lone senator from Mississippi argued to have that amount reduced to $3,000 when he discovered that the victim’s families were Black. The $3,000 amount was unanimously approved by Congress.
Clem’s life in 1940’s Chicago is enriched by a vibrant African American community. In 1905 Robert Sengstacke Abbott founded the Chicago Defender newspaper, which is still in print today. The Defender has been credited with increasing Chicago’s Black population by promoting the advantages of life in the north to Blacks in the south. Often distributed by Black Pullman porters on their train routes, the Defender hired notable writers such as Gwendolyn Brooks, journalists Ethel Payne and Ida B. Wells, and poet Langston Hughes, who wrote a weekly column.
The Billiken was considered the guardian angel of children and a prominent feature of both the newspaper’s children’s column and the parade. Celebrated on the first Saturday of each August since 1929, the Bud Billiken Parade remains one of the longest running and largest African American parades in the country. Grand marshalls have included Cab Calloway, Muhammad Ali, Lena Horne, Oprah Winfrey, Barack Obama, and heavyweight champion Joe Louis.
It was at DuSable High school where Clem first learned to swim. In 1934, DuSable High School opened its doors at 4934 S. Wabash Avenue. It was one of the only high schools in the area built with a swimming pool and some white high school teams refused to compete against the all-Black team. Coach William T. Mackie, who once swam competitively was hired to run the DuSable swim program. Under Coach Mackie, the DuSable High Sea Horses became one the best teams in the state of Illinois through 1943 where they won fifty-three consecutive dual meets.
/> Lesa Cline-Ransome
Acknowledgments
Being Clem is the final chapter in a journey that began years ago with a manuscript I wasn’t quite sure what to do with, but which fortunately found its way into the hands of my editor, Mary Cash, who thankfully knew exactly what it was meant to be. Thank you, Mary, for your vision. Not just for the first book, Finding Langston, but for knowing that Langston’s story should continue into Leaving Lymon and now Being Clem, this final book in the trilogy. Thank you for bringing these characters’ voices to life with your patience and gentle guidance. Thanks to everyone at Holiday House for making me feel like part of a family. Thank you to my agent, Rosemary Stimola, of Stimola Literary Studio, sage, twin, and fearless advocate.
Thank you to my dear friend Lisa Reticker, who after reading Finding Langston insisted it should be a trilogy and pushed me forward every step of the way. And to her husband, Mark Fuerst, who coached me in the reading of my Author’s Note for the audiobook version. And speaking of audiobooks, thank you Dreamscape Media, and Dion Graham, narrator of all three titles, whose gifted voice found the heart and soul of Langston, Lymon, and Clem and the cast of characters that surrounded them. You are truly a genius.
I so appreciate the help of those along the way who helped me to find the answers to my obscure questions—Jay Dorin, Cathy and Rebecca Shaw, J.E. Williams, Linda Cline, Eduardo Vann, and Elizabeth Ascoli. Thanks to my wonderful writer’s group, who offered invaluable critique along the way: Christine Heppermann, Virginia Euwer Wolff, Ann Burg, Julie Chibarro, Alyssa Wishingrad, Jocelyn Johnson-Kearney, Phoebe North, Gayle Upchurch-Mills, and Stephanie Tolan, who read and reread entire drafts and offered their invaluable insight when it was most needed.
And thank you to my wonderful family, who are so patient when I spend long hours in my office, order too much takeout, complain nonstop, and read aloud too many versions of the same chapter. You are all what keeps me going. Malcolm, thank you for your honesty and vulnerability in helping me to understand the challenges facing young black men (and for teaching me how to throw a rock); Leila, thank you for being a patient reader and fierce critic. Much gratitude to my hubby and jacket cover artist extraordinaire, James Ransome, for answering all of my questions about manhood and your childhood. Thanks to Maya and Jaime for your unwavering support. And to my mother Ernestine and my siblings, Linda and Bill Cline. The memories of our childhood are what helped to form the foundation for this story. You taught me to love life and follow my dreams and cheered me every step of the way when I did.
Lesa Cline-Ransome