by Dima Alzayat
Steven Morelli
October 13, 2017 at 1:43am Birmingham, AL, United States ·
Now you all know I love football more than most guys (and gals) but the NFL is going to lose me and many others if they let these justice warriors keep this up. Their bending over backward to keep overpaid ungrateful thugs happy even if it means disrespecting our flag and anthem and most IMPORTANTLY our military the people who risk their lives to protect THEIR freedom
39
JOSEPH (1964)
I pray to Mariam they go away soon. It was burying her that did it. God rest her soul. Going back to that cemetery, seeing their names on that stone.
At that time, dying in this country meant being buried here. There was nothing like there is now, shipping people to Lebanon, to Syria, wherever it was they were born. If you ask me, it would’ve been a waste, then and now. Hanging on to land that didn’t hang on to you. I try to tell them that, but they don’t listen. Keep me up, asking the same questions about why we buried them where we did, why the kids don’t visit. Go visit them like you do me! I say.
I wanted to lay them in Valdosta. It was there they had friends, some community. But they should be in Birmingham, with us, Mariam said. Promised she’d be the one to take the kids from time to time. I didn’t see any sense in it. It’ll just give them nightmares, I told her, but she said she knew best. I had my hands full just trying to feed and clothe the lot of them. It was the Depression years and there wasn’t much work. When George’s boy and my boys were old enough to work it helped some.
It was difficult at first with the kids, but they came around. They saw it’d be different with me and Mariam looking after them. George tried, God rest him, but his trying was always getting him in trouble, Nancy encouraging him when she should’ve been cautioning, and him letting her say whatever came to her mind. If they’d been different they might have had an easier time, that’s all. Their kids did, most of them anyway. We didn’t have a whole lot to spend but we always made sure they looked right. They listened when we spoke, steered clear of troublemakers, volunteered at church. Wasn’t long before Samuel was in the grocery business himself. Two of the girls married decent men, Carine to a man named Wilson, Adele to Morelli. They got on with their lives, made beautiful families. I like to think that George and Nancy, as stubborn as they were, would be proud. I try to tell them, but they don’t listen.
SHERIFF DOUGLAS – WRITTEN TESTIMONY (1929)
The persons who came into the jail last Friday and took that man are unknown to me. It was early dawn when those men came in and I was asleep on my cot in the back as is usual. I was startled half to death when I heard them come in and I ran and did everything in my power to get them away, as God is my witness. But there was too many of them and all hell bent to take that man by force. I didnt assist them in any manner and I couldnt tell them from Adam. They broke the lock on his cell and when they left I found the steel pipe they used to do it thrown inside. Its clear what happened even if it aint clear who done it.
When a mob like that is bent on taking the law into their own hands, I do my best to step in and see to it no one gets hurt. But like I said, in this particular case I cant be of much help. Who it is that took that man was and remain unknown to me.
ADELE (1990)
the sun makes my head hurt bright sun two caskets the same lowered down down Lily’s face wet hand salty when I kiss it Samuel tells her silence he runs off away Carine runs after him comes back sits on the grass me on her lap other hands try to lift me take me from her Carine says no no no no Lily says it too sits next to us clasps her arms around me Carine holds us both hums a melody I can nearly hear now how close enough to reach no it teases and flits like lightning bugs outlines fading nothing but highest notes and lowest can’t connect one to the next
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1909
THE SYRIAN.
The contention over the granting of naturalization papers to the Syrian is an interesting one. The immigration officials take the ground that the Syrian cannot be naturalized because he is not a white man, but a Mongolian. A Federal Court judge in Atlanta, however, has decided to the contrary and says the Syrian is privileged to citizenship in this country. The case will be taken to the United States Court of Appeals. The matter is an important one for the already large Syrian population in this country is daily growing at a rapid rate. It is the opinion of many that the Syrian would make a far superior class of citizens to that of many of the specimens from Ellis Island who are given naturalization papers without question. He is, as a general thing, orderly in conduct, respectable in appearance, busy as a bee and worships the apostleship of thrift. The only objection to him is that he makes too much money.
STEVEN ‘BUBBA’ MORELLI (2003)
That’s fresh sap. He’s passed through, sure enough. But the bark’s not too ragged. Might’ve not been him. Some other buck rubbing. Smaller, four-pointer, maybe five. My stand is what I need. Be able to see clear down to the swamp, to the pine grove where the does must be nesting. No matter. I spied him once. I’ll do it again.
A dying skill, still-hunting. Everyone and their stands, sitting all day in the trees, waiting. On the ground like this, that’s hunting.
There he goes. That’s the white of him. More than fifty yards. Can’t shoot past that far. Bet he knows it. Smug and tall. A damn giant. Hundred and eighty, no, nearly two hundred pounds. If I get him I’ll have to haul him back. How. If one of the kids had come with me. Damn Diane. Kids and house. My damn stand.
That’s right, stay right there. You’re in range. Barely.
Shit. Too soon. Shit. I had to. Too soon. The legs up. He’s down. Is he? This damn hand.
THURSDAY, MAY 5, 1836.
The Indian War. — In the long letter, which we have copied, the reader will find the results of the march of Gen. Scott’s army, and in all probability the results of the whole campaign, for this season. If Scott should be equally unsuccessful in his march to Peas Creek, all efforts to find and overcome the enemy must cease until the Fall. The climate forbids any further operations. It would be fatal to one-half the troops engaged, particularly if they continued to eat raw food, and suffer almost every other imaginable hardship.
Other letters besides those above referred to, express but feeble hopes of finding the Indians — It is believed that they have scattered into small parties, and gone into the everglades. The troops anticipated great hardships on the march to Peas Creek, as the heat had become oppressive.
June 8, 1929
Dear Govner,
Im a god fearing man like I know yourself must be. And I couldnt stand by and let my concionce eat away at me one more day. It aint right what the sherriffs did to Romy and his wife and it aint right what they get up to here and what lies barely baried in front of our eyes. Bootlegin is one thing and even making gifts of seezures were used to and look the other way. But Romy wasnt resisting his arrest and I saw it with my own eyes how those sherriffs beat him with their pistols and pulled him out to the car and his wife laying there bleeding near dead. He left a streak of blood so thick it took ten pales of water to clean it off. And her in no condition to be treated like she was. I ask you if thats not criminal I dont know what is. My mind keeps going to those poor children. I urge you to ask those negroes in the jail to talk about what they saw. They will no doubt be scared to do so but I trust its in you power and interest to keep them safe.
Sincerly,
A concerned citizen
CARINE (1991)
She came to me again last night and I don’t know how I mean but she was more alive than dead this time. I know in my mind it was a dream but she was talking, even laughed like she was real. Samuel was there too and she told him to take us for ice cream. He jumped at the chance, of course. He wanted to drive the car. She called to me to take the money and when I reached out to her I noticed her smooth young hand and mine was that of an old woman. I knew then I was dreaming and it broke my heart to be older than her, my own mother
.
Again she said, ‘Take them for ice cream,’ and Lily and Adele appeared and we ran out to the car and climbed in, scrambling over one another trying to sit next to Samuel. He got in snapping at us to sit still but he wasn’t mad. You couldn’t make Samuel mad no matter what, in those days. We’d barely reached the lake when the car hit us. Not hard and not head-on, just skimmed the rear right corner and scraped against the side where I sat, before taking off. We screamed then went quiet when we heard sirens because Samuel told us to calm down and we listened. He was shook, I could tell. His hands weren’t steady and made the car shudder as he pulled off to the side of the road.
From where we sat we watched the patrol car follow the curve of the lake and close in on the runaway car. We wondered if they were criminals or killers or what, running away from the sheriff like that, and all we could do was hold our breaths and watch. Samuel’s breaths made whistling sounds, and I wanted to hold his hand but I knew it was better to sit and wait.
After the truck decided it’d had enough it pulled over and two men, one in a straw hat, got out and began gesturing at the police. We couldn’t hear what they were saying but the one with the hat whipped his arms through the air and seemed to be pointing at the sky and then the sheriffs, and I thought they would shoot him then for sure but they didn’t. They just moved in on him real slow and again real slow pulled his arms behind his back and cuffed him. I remember feeling glad no one’d been hurt.
A few minutes later a sheriff appeared at our car window, telling us the truck had been stolen, apologized for it hitting us. He asked Samuel if we were all right. Did we need to be seen to? Samuel looked around at us again and said No and waited for the sheriff to say more. Well, the sheriff walked around the car and came back to say it was in bad shape but not too bad, and that the men arrested would be liable for fixing it. ‘Get the work done,’ he said, ‘and come see me.’ Samuel thanked him and the sheriff nodded and we all waved at him and drove off.
When I woke up I spent all morning trying to remember if Samuel ever did take us to get ice cream that day or if we just turned around and went back to the store. Even now I can’t decide and oh, I know it makes no difference either way. I’d just rather remember or forget, one or the other.
UNITED STATES CENSUS, 1940
First Name: Samuel
Middle Name: R.
Last Name: Romey
Residence: Jefferson, AL
Est. Birth Year: 1910
Birth Location: Georgia
Age at Time of Census: 30
Occupation: Truck Driver
Industry: Produce
Gender: Male
Race: White
Ethnicity: White
(contd.)
The Seminoles refused to sanction this proceeding of a few of their chiefs. The delegation themselves denied their own act, and declared that they had not signed any paper which required them to relinquish their lands or remove from Florida. They were assured that they would nevertheless be forced to carry out the treaty. Micanopy, old and inert, was little more than a tool in the hands of the bold and crafty half-breed, Oseola, who, though not a chief himself, exerted a controlling influence.
Nothing was farther from the intention of Oseola than to fulfill his agreement to emigrate. He wished to gain time, and above all things, by a display of friendship, to procure arms, powder, and lead. Thompson refused to sell these. Oseola, for a moment forgetting himself, broke out into fierce passion. “Am I a negro,” he said; “a slave? I am an Indian. The white man shall not make me black. I will make the white man red with blood, and then blacken him in the sun and rain, where the wolf shall smell his bones and the vulture live upon his flesh.”
19 May, 1929
Dear Governor,
I’m writing to voice my objection to what happened to that citizen in our own town this week. As I’m sure you are well aware no one is happy about the events transpired. The sheriffs were wrong to do what they did and everyone’s scared to say so on account of reprisals against themselves. Some of us saw how they beat Romey with their guns and it was then his wife shot at the sheriffs and I can’t myself say if this is right but I can’t imagine but she thought they meant to kill him. The shot hit Baker but it wasn’t him who shot her back. If you investigate you will find out it was deputy Cox who shot back several times and killed her. Everyone also knows the police let that mob take Romey the next morning. The plan to kill them was fixed between sheriff Douglas and his deputy and the police force and the whole of Lake City believes as much. They wanted to kill them because they were afraid of them.
Sincerely,
A Lake City citizen
JOSEPH (1964)
None of the ones who’d seen what happened went on record but their words got back to us just the same. I don’t know if they felt bad. Surprised, I suppose. Years later the man I sold my shop to wrote to tell me he couldn’t get the picture of Nancy lying on the ground of her own shop bleeding to leave his mind. I’m a Southern man and I’ve seen plenty of death, he wrote, but it wasn’t right a white woman dying like that. I didn’t tell Mariam about his letter but she found it and read it and the only thing she said was, That man wasn’t even there.
How many were indeed known to us, these unknowns? How many of these men had walked into our grocery stores, sent their children to buy milk or butter or a piece of candy? How many of them stopped by for a glass of water? Said hello and goodbye and asked after our families? Some had to have been our customers, our neighbors. Some we had to have known for years.
Syrians asked the same. Didn’t they know us, these men? Hadn’t we gone to church with them and sat with them and made ourselves known? Surely they knew we were like them. No answer I gave was enough. Oh, they were angry. They wrote letters and hired lawyers, and I can’t say that they did nothing but right by us and the children. They raised funds, collected donations and the rest. But they kept asking the same questions, and I saw they wanted to hear something I wasn’t saying. That maybe it was George’s fault. He and Nancy both. Surely they had brought their ends upon themselves. The law is the law and all we can do is respect it and stay out of its way. Some of them would all but say it, and nod until I did too.
THE SYRIAN WORLD
(contd.)
The details of the lynching of this Syrian are revolting. From whatever angle we view the case we can find no justification for the barbarous treatment visited by the police and the mob on this Syrian family. A full investigation of the circumstances surrounding the tragedy should be made and those responsible brought to justice. The Syrian is not a negro whom Southerners feel they are justified in lynching when he is suspected of an attack on a white woman. The Syrian is a civilized white man who has excellent traditions and a glorious historical background and should be treated as among the best elements of the American nation.
— Ash-Shaab, N.Y. May 24
WITNESS 2 – NAME WITHHELD (1939)
It was just two of us in our cell when they brought him in and walked him past us. The other man hissed at me from across the cell to keep quiet and I did but I stole glances. They can keep us from talking but they can’t keep us from seeing is what my grandad always said. By the time he was fifty he was well near blind though, so take from that what you will.
This group of white men – criminals, Klansmen, good Samaritans – roared and hollered like they were a show at the county fair, one encouraging the other, each promising to do worse than the man next to him. That was when I heard the sheriff telling them to quiet down. ‘Get yourselves together,’ he shouted and they did.
They seemed to have a good laugh at the man inside then but to me it sounded like he might’ve gotten in a few good punches. Then it was the sound of their boots kicking and their grunts and spit until the sheriff again shouted at them to go. I heard them carry him out but I kept my head down. Not because the other man told me to. I just didn’t wanna see no one with his head kicked in, knowing his son was being kept in the b
ack and unable to help him none. With them gone the sheriff walked back to his office without giving us a glance. He didn’t look up even a single time to see if we were watching.
Tuesday, January 15, 1929
TOURISTS HERE FIND MUSA ISLE BIG ATTRACTION
Seminole Wrestling With
Alligator Always
Thrills Crowd
Musa Isle Indian Village and Alligator Farm completely renewed and with many features added is again drawing thousands of visitors weekly. Musa Isle has long been the home of Florida’s native Seminoles, a camp having been established there before the coming of the white man to South Florida. Today with the addition of a zoo featuring native Florida animal and bird life and an alligator farm with hundreds of the original Florida inhabitants, it is one piece that practically no winter visitor misses in his tour of the Greater Miami area.
One of the many unusual attractions at Musa Isle is the daily wrestling match between a native Seminole and a full-grown alligator. This never fails to thrill the crowds and it is a feat that not many would care to attempt.
The Indians at Musa Isle have established a complete native village where the visitor may see them living in exactly the same manner as they have for many years in the American tropics.
VOLUSIA, FLORIDA, DECEMBER 9, 1838.
This, you may be assured, is a negro, not an Indian war; and if it be not speedily put down, the South will feel the effects of it on their slave population before the end of the next season.