by Claude McKay
“You are not leaving us now,” said Tasan, very happy that he was.
“Yes indeed,” said Prudhomme Bishop, “the duties of my office are innumerable and exacting and as laborious and overwhelming as the stars along the Milky Way. Mr. Peixota, I earnestly hope that you will change your mind and make your organization a credit to our people, by bringing in as many whites as possible to illuminate it. And Lij Alamaya”—he bowed gravely—“I am honored to make your acquaintance and I wish to extend to you an invitation to visit the offices of the ERA. We are installed in a palatial environment.”
The diversion gave Peixota and Tasan a chance to take an estimate of each other. Peixota was a shrewd evaluator of persons. He had handled one special variety in the numbers game and another in his real estate business. In the former he had had the advantage of choosing men for various kinds of jobs: to canvas for players, as lookout for police movements, as dummies to take the rap for others, as reliable controllers of the game, handling temptingly large sums of money. And his judgment was mostly good. He knew for instance that a cheery, back-slapping canvasser or collector could never be good in the role of a poker-faced dummy.
It didn’t take him any time to know that Maxim Tasan was the type of man who went doggedly and persistently at getting done what he wanted. And if one method failed he would find another. Quiet and undistinguished looking, Tasan was the kind of man that could make a schoolteacher like Newton Castle jump through a hoop with a whoop and stand on his head.
And Tasan too was soon satisfied that Peixota was a different Harlemite from those with whom he had become acquainted at parties and meetings. He saw in Peixota a type of conservative, intelligent businessman. He saw in him the type that could be obstinate, determined and aggressive once he was stirred to interest in a moral idea. He saw that he wouldn’t be an easy man to handle.
“You wanted to talk to me about the collaboration of the Friends with the Hands to Ethiopia, Mr. Peixota,” said Tasan.
“Not exactly that. I thought that after our exchange of letters and our delegates meeting with yours that all that was settled. But Lij Alamaya said you had objected to Mr. Flagg going along with him on his tour. And there was even opposition to him being a member of the committee.”
“It is one of your own committee members who objects most, Mr. Peixota: the secretary of your organization.”
“Yes, Newton Castle, but we can take care of his opposition. The real trouble is the White Friends supporting him. That isn’t playing fair, for we had agreed to carry on the good work along parallel lines.”
“Mr. Peixota, will you permit me to put a question to you?”
“You may ask any question you want and I shall be glad to answer if I can, Mr. Tasan.”
“I’d like you to tell me why you and your people are interested in Ethiopia. Why you are making sacrifices to defend the country. Is it just because they are a colored people like you?”
“Not at all. The Chinese and Hindus are colored, and we don’t have exactly the same sentiment for them that we have for Ethiopia. But Ethiopia is African and our people have their roots in Africa. It is the same sentiment that different white Americans have for Europe. They can’t feel just the same way about Africa and Asia, because their roots are European. It is a natural human feeling. If a native state can maintain its existence in Africa and hold its head up among the white nations, it adds to the self-respect of the colored Americans. For Africa is the land of their ancestors, who were brought here in a state of degradation. When an African people do something that is fine and noble it also gives our people hope and courage to fight race and color prejudice here and strive to lift themselves up in a noble way. I don’t know if you will understand me, but a people live by tradition and self-respect as much as they do by food and drink.”
Said Tasan: “I understand perfectly, Mr. Peixota, and I agree with everything you say. I wish only that you could understand me too and believe that the white man also can be sincere in his attitude towards the colored man.”
“I have never doubted that a white man can be sincere towards the colored man. Many are as individuals. But we are all subject to limitations. Our views are influenced by our training and environment. Even God when he made the world could not make it perfect, so I don’t expect the white man to be perfect more than any other.”
“Now I think we understand each other, Mr. Peixota. I know now that you believe that the White Friends want to help Ethiopia as much as the Hands to Ethiopia. You want to work without friction. You hate the Fascists who sprung this abominable war on Ethiopia. Why should you want to keep in your organization a man who is said to be a Fascist? Just for the sake of harmony I think you should let out Dorsey Flagg.”
“Dorsey Flagg is not a Nazi-Fascist, Mr. Tasan. I know that. How can a black man in America be a Nazi-Fascist? I could never believe that about Mr. Flagg. And besides, he says the whole thing is preposterous. He says it’s a Communist frame-up, Stalinites against Trotskyites and the Soviet Russia conundrum.5 I don’t understand the thing very much, because I am not educated about Soviet Russia and foreign politics. And I don’t want it to disrupt my organization.”
“But, Mr. Peixota, it is disrupting your organization. I know that you haven’t got the large professional group of colored people behind your organization. I could swing them to you if you would only compromise on this issue. With just a little pressure exerted from the right direction, Prudhomme would jump into your arms.”
“Better let him stay in the white man’s arms, for I can’t use him,” said Peixota. “He is only good for a white tool and fool.”
“But he is the leader of an influential body of colored people.”
“It is no credit to them that he is.”
Two girls entered, a white and a colored. They had been out to luncheon. Lij Alamaya recognized the colored girl as Gloria Kendall, whom he had met at Mrs. Witern’s party, and he introduced her to Pablo Peixota. She worked as a file clerk in the office and the other girl was the typist.
“So you still insist that Mr. Flagg must accompany Lij Alamaya on his tour, Mr. Peixota?”
“Unless Lij Alamaya personally objects to him.”
“I am entirely at the disposal of the Hands to Ethiopia committee,” said Lij Alamaya.
Peixota was irritated by Tasan and especially when he declared that he could swing the professional group of colored people to him. A white man declaring that he could deliver the colored people to a colored organization! Peixota was more angry because there was a probability that Tasan might be able to do it. He was a manipulator of men and undoubtedly possessed power or the means to wield power and delighted in it.
But he could not understand why he should want to have power over colored people. He could understand white Democrats and Republicans seeking to capture the colored vote. He had played the political game and understood. But the Democratic and Republican game was something quite different from the influence that Tasan desired to exert over colored people. Maxim Tasan wanted power over the life and thought of his people, to turn their mind to Soviet Russia as a Promised Land. Peixota was convinced that the man cared little about Ethiopia. Yet he marveled that he should be so interested in the social existence of his group of people. What could they contribute to the prestige and the future of Soviet Russia? He arrived at the conclusion that as the Soviets were in principle anti–Nazi-Fascist and Italy a Fascist state, they were merely using Ethiopia as a strategic base of propaganda. And suddenly he had a suspicion that Lij Alamaya knew more about Maxim Tasan than what he had told him. He was so strangely silent during the conversation and wore such an obviously distressed expression, as if he were worried about Tasan’s taking offence. Was it conceivable that there was a possibly secret understanding between them? But immediately he scouted the idea and felt ashamed of entertaining it. No, Lij Alamaya was the Emperor’s personal envoy, with authentic cr
edentials. Yet the perverse thought persisted in pursuing him.
7
THE TOWER AND THE AIRPLANE
With the benevolent encouragement of Mrs. Peixota, Seraphine embarked on a gay flirtation with Lij Alamaya. Yet Seraphine had no clear idea of what she wanted from this association. Alamaya was a personage and it was a rare distinction to be his constant female companion. At least the other girls would be envious and she enjoyed arousing their envy. It was not the easiest thing for a girl of discriminating tastes always to find a distinguished male escort, not in Harlem at least, in whose limited area competition was as keen and entertaining as the ravishing beauties of the Apollo Theater1 dancing around the leading man.
When Bunchetta teased Seraphine at Mrs. Witern’s party and said, “You’re a fast one—how nicely you have manicured and painted your claws for him,” Seraphine replied, “I’m not thinking of hooking anybody, cat, just having a good time.”
“But you like him, don’t you?” said Bunchetta. “He has wonderful baby eyes.”
“I like him all right, but not so much in the way you imagine.”
Seraphine’s mother informed her of Mr. Peixota’s reaction, when she playfully hinted that there was a possibility of an attachment between her and Alamaya. “—and he said he didn’t want you to marry a foreigner. Mussolini might conquer Ethiopia and then Alamaya’s title wouldn’t be worth anything.”
“Father said something there,” said Seraphine, “and who knows but Tekla may have a harem in Africa.”
“Then it would be safer if you were married to live in America,” said Mrs. Peixota. “If Mussolini licks Haile Selassie’s black hide and conquers Ethiopia, Alamaya would have to stay here and find a job. And why shouldn’t it be as easy for him as it is for the other titled foreigners? He’s got an advantage of color like you and he can work both ways between white and black.”
“But, Mother, he’s not in the same class as a European prince or count, he’s just an Ethiopian Lij.”
“Nonsense, child, you’re confused by glamour in the spotlight. Lij Alamaya is in a nobler class, if you ask me. Ethiopia is the oldest empire on the face of the earth. A Lij is a prince and if Alamaya marries you, I will make him use the title of prince.”
“Oh, and I would be Princess Seraphine!”
“Yes, and his princely arms would be engraved on your furniture and stationery. And your bed linen too. You’d be better off married to him in America than in that barbaric African land, even though the dynasty is grander than that of King Tut of Egypt. Why, if I ever had to visit you there, I’d have to travel in a caravan, just as if I were going on a pilgrimage to Mecca or Jerusalem.”
“But, Mother, the way you talk, though. Why, you make me dizzy. I don’t know that Tekla is any more serious about me than I about him. He might prefer marriage in his own country, where he can sit all wrapped in silk and satin on a golden stool, with his docile native women groveling at his feet.”
“You can prevent that happening, if you play a clever game. Even though he is an African, Alamaya is not so different from others. All the world loves American women.”
Seraphine dropped to the studio chair and gave herself up to a hectic spell of giggling.
• • •
The Tower had the privilege of being the first club in the community to entertain Lij Alamaya. Seraphine had promised that the club should have that distinction, and she luxuriated in the feeling that the other members were indebted to her for the realization of their aristocratic desire.
The Tower was a women’s club of twenty-one members. It was founded during the last World War. Its founder was a distinguished clergyman’s daughter and an official of the Home for Colored Working Girls. She was a militant of the Votes for Women movement and a very effective speaker. Her name became famous when a group of Southern politicians declared that although they were in sympathy with the Votes for Women campaign, they could not support it, because it would mean the extension of the privilege of voting to Aframerican women. This woman was publicized as one of the many Aframerican women who were quite as qualified as other women to vote. The original founder intended the Tower to prove that its women were a tower of strength to the Aframerican group. But she was an aristocrat by conviction and limited the membership to twenty-one. It was her hope that similar groups would be formed in other cities which by example would influence Aframerican womanhood to strive for higher things.
But when the founder died, five years after starting the club, her successor directed it from an idealistic into a sophisticated channel. Elegantly placed in the form of a right angle reversed and embossed on its official stationery, the name of the club was artistically arranged to indicate its character, thus, in the upper left side:
T-alent
O-riginality
W-ealth
E-ligibility
R-efinement
These were the five attributes requisite to membership. Eligibility was the most important and next Refinement. Originality was more a matter of manners than of ideas and Talent was determined by cleverness instead of originality. Wealth was rather a potential than an actual requirement. It meant chiefly that a member was materially able to keep up with the social standards of the club. If her background and its traditions were rich—that is, if she were connected with a historically notable Aframerican family—she was considered as important as a member whose parents or husband were well-to-do. Thus a prominent member who came from Washington, D.C., was admitted because of “her wealth of beauty and traditions and associations.” But there were moneyed Harlemites who could not obtain the coveted privilege of membership. There was one matron who had accumulated her fortune from two divorces and the tragic death of one husband and certain personal investments which were outside of the province of the legitimate financial market. She possessed the first three qualifications for membership and ardently desired admittance to the Tower. But she could not get a member to sponsor her candidacy. Once she persuaded a man of solid professional standing to take her as his partner to an exclusive invitation dance of the Tower and she was rejected at the door.
Among the twenty-one active members, there were city employees and social workers, doctors, wives of professional men and daughters of prominent city officials. There were a few honorary members, chiefly former members who were no longer permanent residents of New York. The president in office was Miss Lucy Lincoln Washington, who was a great-granddaughter of one of Abraham Lincoln’s servitors. The secretary was Miss Bunchetta Facey.
The Tower was meeting with Lij Alamaya at the home of Seraphine. It was a hurriedly arranged affair, as Lij Alamaya was leaving on his tour on Saturday. As usual when the club entertained a male, a couple or more men were invited. Newton Castle, whose wife Delta was a member, was asked. And he had prompted Delta to suggest that Professor A. Banner Makepeace be invited. Professor Makepeace brought Mrs. Witern along.
It was a very quiet gathering compared to Mrs. Witern’s. It began early, for it was scheduled to end by twelve o’clock. Highballs were served, but drinking was moderate. There was something of the atmosphere of a small forum. Mrs. Peixota came in and met the guests, but she did not remain. It was Seraphine’s club and her affair.
The tone was set by Bunchetta Facey, who said that the members were eager to hear Lij Alamaya talk informally about the general conditions in Ethiopia. Alamaya said that there were so many things to talk about that he did not know which would be the most interesting for such a select audience. And he proposed that they should ask him questions.
Only twelve of the Tower girls were present, for Bunchetta had telephoned and written to members just the evening before, when Seraphine informed her that Lij Alamaya could meet them on Thursday. They fired questions at Alamaya about the Emperor and the Empress, the Ethiopian Church, the Europeans in Ethiopia, the flamboyant Aframerican Hubert Fauntleroy Julian,2 whom the Emperor made a colon
el, the Rasses, the Queen of Sheba, the status of women, the kind of specie and the kind of food.3 Lij Alamaya acquitted himself admirably and his answers were considered satisfactory.
Miss Lucy Lincoln Washington presided at the head of the long table and she expertly kept the meeting at the desired intellectual level. Getting fresh and unusual firsthand information about an interesting land is a rare pleasure and everybody felt that they had a good evening.
Professor Makepeace had a chance for a brief illuminating talk with Alamaya. (He was the only other male present; Newton Castle did not attend, as he was summoned to an emergency final meeting of the Hands to Ethiopia committee where the final arrangements for Alamaya’s tour were discussed.) The girls considerately gave the two men an interval to converse together. Alamaya discovered that although Professor Makepeace was the chairman of the White Friends of Ethiopia committee, he was ignorant about that organization’s operation and work. Maxim Tasan had more to do with the actual direction. Professor Makepeace’s relationship to the World Democratic League, of which he was also chairman, was about the same. He spent most of his time lecturing to liberal and radical audiences on modern social changes and adjustments (he had retired from academic work) and he knew little about the practical direction of the organizations with which his name was connected. Once he was satisfied that they were progressive and not reactionary organizations, he informed Alamaya, he was always ready to cooperate and lend the prestige of his name to help.
It was Mrs. Witern’s first visit to Harlem. She said she liked the party, it was lovely and restful, so different from the usual ones downtown. Bunchetta, laughing, said she should not take that as a sample, for it was not a party; it was an intellectual exercise.
Newton Castle came in about 11:45, when they were all preparing to leave. He explained why he was late.
“It’s a nice night,” said Seraphine, “too early for good friends to break away from each other.”