Treasure in a Tin Box (Wall of Silence Book 1)

by Dorey Whittaker

  Ruth and I helped them get their place in shape, and we were their first dinner guests. Sulley was so proud to be sitting at his own table in his own home, which was clean and neat as a pin. After dinner he guided us into the living room, but since their place was so tiny, it was actually just a step or two away from the kitchen table. But that did not matter to Sulley. It was his place, and Whippoorwill sat right beside him, just as proud as he was.

  After coffee, Sulley suggested he read a chapter from the book he and his bride were now reading. Ruth and I held hands and rejoiced with our friends. I, for one, could not resist thinking about having a place like this to share with Ruth one day soon. As we said goodnight and I walked Ruth home, I remember feeling that all was right with the world.

  That night I was awakened at four in the morning to pounding on our front door. There stood Sulley, drenched in sweat and filled with rage. At first I could not even understand what he was saying to me. All I knew was something terrible had happened to Whippoorwill, and he needed my help. I threw on some clothes and followed Sulley back to his tiny place. Everything was in ruins. The kitchen table was busted up, the settee he had worked so hard to reupholster was ripped open, and all of the stuffing scattered around. Their dishes had been thrown around the room, shattering into little pieces as they struck the walls. “Sulley, who did this?”

  “My brother, Neville. He got drunk and came over here to teach me a lesson. He kept screaming at me things like how I think I’m so much better than Jethro and him. I tried to stop him, Toby, but Neville was out of his mind drunk. The more I got in his face, the meaner he got. I was afraid he was going to hurt Whippoorwill. He said he was going to take her and show her how a real man makes love. I got her into the bedroom and stood in the doorway. He was not going to get by me. If I had to kill my own brother, he was not getting past me.”

  “Sulley, where is Whippoorwill?”

  “She is in there.” Sulley nodded his head toward the bedroom. “I have never seen her so scared, Toby. I couldn’t get her to come with me. It was like she couldn’t hear me talking to her.”

  “Sulley, where is Neville? Why did you leave Whippoorwill alone when you came to get me?”

  “Because, Toby, Neville can never hurt Whippoorwill ever again.”

  “What did you do, Sulley? Where is Neville?”

  “He is out in the bushes, Toby. He would not stop. He was going to get by me and hurt my wife. I could not let that happen. I am her protector. That’s my job, right?”

  Calmly taking his arm, I suggested, “Sulley, let’s go see Neville. Are you sure he is dead?”

  The reality of what he had just done began to settle in, and Sulley began to shake. “I broke his neck, Toby. I didn’t mean to, honest. He just would not stop, and I grabbed hold of him and lifted his feet off the ground so I could carry him outside—away from Whippoorwill. I guess I must have turned his head too far to the side because when I got him outside and dropped him, he just crumpled to the ground and didn’t move. That’s when I came running to you. What am I going to do now, Toby?”

  My brain would not work. All of a sudden I had no answers—no absolute right or wrong. My best friend just killed his brother. It was 1917 in Atlanta, Georgia. We both knew what the white police would do to Sulley. It wouldn’t matter that Neville broke into their place, tore it up, and threatened Whippoorwill. Sulley was a black man, and he had just killed someone.

  Still with no answers, I at least regained my voice and suggested, “First of all, Sulley, we need to get Whippoorwill out of here. We need to get her to Ruth so she can take care of her. Once we know she is safe, you and I have to figure out what to do.”

  I waited in the living room while Sulley struggled to get clothes on his bride. I could hear her confused mind asking, “What just happened, Sulley? Where are we going? Sulley, I don’t want to go out into the living room. That man wants to hurt me.”

  Whippoorwill’s mind was all muddled. The fear of seeing Sulley fighting off that attacker was more than she could handle. I decided I could help Sulley by keeping my voice calm and calling out to her from the living room, “Whippoorwill, it’s me, Tobias. I am standing here in the living room. It’s safe now you can come out here. Sulley and I want to take you to Ruth. Would you like that? Would you like to see Ruth?”

  Sulley carried his exhausted wife all the way to Ruth’s house. Pastor Johnson answered the door, and I saw both Ms. Pearl and Ms. Ruby standing behind him. They did not know any details, but they all knew the situation was bad, and they had been praying.

  Ruth pulled back the sheets and told Sulley to place Whippoorwill in her bed. Ruth then promised, “I won’t leave her side, Sulley. You go do what you need to do. Don’t you worry about your wife.”

  As we reentered the living room, I was not sure how much we should say just yet, but Sulley told them everything. Everyone stood silent and stunned. Finally, Sulley asked, “Should I go to the police? It is almost light out, and someone is going to see Neville.”

  Pastor Johnson grimaced at the thought of his going to the police. “I sure wish there was a policeman we could trust. Do you ladies know any by name?”

  Sulley spoke up, “Doesn’t really matter right now. When Neville doesn’t show up for work this morning, my daddy is going to come looking for him. Neville never held much importance to our daddy, but he sure held a sight more than I ever did.”

  Needing to say something, Ms. Pearl offered, “Sulley, you have God on your side; don’t you forget that.”

  Instantly, I was at war. My head agreed with Aunt Pearl, but this time my heart would not go along with it. Any other time I would have said exactly that. Black and white, right and wrong, good and bad—simple, right? Suddenly, all my lines began to blur. I knew what Ms. Pearl was saying was factually true. Sulley was a child of God, and God takes care of His children—true. But facing the reality of taking my best friend to the white police of Atlanta and expecting fairness… Can God really overcome that?

  I was standing face to face with what I knew was true, but I was having a hard time putting my trust in it. I was having a hard time placing my best friend’s future in that truth. Could I actually trust God to bring Sulley through this ordeal? If I could not trust God here, then where? If not now, then when? Suddenly my pride and arrogance were gone. I realized it was never about my answers, but about the One in whom I had trusted. I humbly began to ask for just enough faith to trust my God enough to stand in His truth.

  Also feeling at a loss, Pastor Johnson suggested, “I believe we need to gather up all the men of the church and escort Sulley to the police station. Maybe, if they see that he has a large support group behind him, they will not dare mistreat him.”

  As we all started thinking of men to contact, Sulley’s voice brought everyone to attention. “Pardon me, Pastor, but remember the Bible story you taught last Sunday? In Numbers, Chapter thirteen, the spies were sent into the Promised Land and came back fearful because they saw giants. They said they felt like grasshoppers in their sight. Ten of them warned that the giants were too big, but two of the spies said the people should go in and face the giants. They said, ‘If God is for us, who can stand against us?’ Pastor, you said that when we feel like grasshoppers facing the giants, we need to stand with God because grasshoppers plus God are always greater than giants.

  “Pastor, I am feeling like a grasshopper right now, and the police are my giants. I am not walking into that police station all alone. I am not green enough to think I can trust the police to be fair to me. I know, in my heart, that I am not guilty of murder. I also know that my personal belief alone will not save me. I want to stand and see the salvation of the Lord; I want the Lord to fight for me. I don’t want to try to outsmart the police or to show up with so many men that they back down. I want my God to rescue me—His poor little grasshopper. Will you stand with me and pray that God will give me the courage to do this?”

  “Of course I will, Sulley,” Pastor Johnson crie
d out. “I am so proud of you, young man. I might have preached that sermon, but you are wise enough to want to live it. I would be honored.”

  I stood there amazed at Sulley’s faith. I could have repeated Pastor Johnson’s sermon verbatim because I knew it; but Sulley was willing to live it. I had been trying to taper my pride and arrogance with pride and arrogance. Pride is believing we are giants, when in fact, we are but grasshoppers. Arrogance is believing an insignificant grasshopper can fight a giant. But true faith is realizing that a grasshopper who trusts in God to fight for him can stand up to the giants of this world.

  Thirty minutes later, on Saturday morning, May 19, 1917, the three of us walked into the police headquarters on Decatur Street in Atlanta. Sulley asked to speak with a detective and told him his story. Pastor and I remained in the lobby, praying quietly. We knew, from other men’s experiences, that the first twenty-four hours were going to be the most dangerous for Sulley. If some rough officers were going to pull him out the back door and exercise their own form of justice, it would be then.

  We did not talk. We did not question. We prayed. All day Saturday, we prayed. As other men found out about what was going on, one or two at a time joined us in silent prayer for Sulley’s protection. By late Saturday, Neville’s body had been taken away, his father notified, and the police had been in and out of Sulley’s place all day long. It was obvious to all that Sulley’s story rang true. However, in 1917, the police were less interested in defending a black man’s rights than bringing about swift and total justice—as they perceived it. We kept praying.

  First thing Monday morning, Sulley was shackled and delivered before the circuit judge. The police intended to charge Sulley with manslaughter. Five of us were sitting in the balcony of the courthouse when Sulley was escorted in. As best as we could determine, he had not yet been beaten.

  We waited while the judge heard every case involving a white defendant or victim. At noon, without hearing Sulley’s charges, the judge closed the courtroom for the lunch hour. Sulley was returned to police headquarters to wait for the afternoon session to be reopened. We prayed.

  Anyone who knows the history of Atlanta, Georgia, knows what happened shortly after noon on Monday, May 21, 1917, a clear, warm and sunny day with a brisk breeze from the south. A small fire at the Candler Warehouse across the tracks from West End broke out around 11:30 a.m.. At 11:43, embers flew seven blocks north and destroyed three houses, and at 12:15, south of the Georgia Railroad from the big fire, ten homes were destroyed before being extinguished. At 12:46 a call came from a small warehouse just north of Decatur Street between Fort and Hilliard, and the crew sent to inspect it found a stack of burning mattresses but had no firefighting equipment with them. If the fire department had not already been spread across so many different parts of the city, the fire would have been put out there; but by the time reinforcements arrived, it was quickly leaping north.

  Because eighty-five percent of the buildings in downtown Atlanta were roofed with wooden shingles, the fire spread quickly. By the end of the day, over 300 acres and much of the Fourth Ward had been destroyed, including nearly 2,000 homes, businesses and churches. At least 10,000 people were displaced. The city’s losses were estimated at about $5.5 million dollars.

  The courthouse remained closed that whole week. Once it reopened, the judge heard the charges against Sulley and shouted at the district attorney, “What do you think you are doing here, Carlton? Even your own officers say it was self-defense. This city has just had a terrible disaster that is going to cost millions of dollars to rebuild what was burned down. If you want to go coon huntin’, you do it on your own time. I am not going to waste this city’s resources on a trial like this.” Turning to Sulley, the judge said, “Boy, you are free to go.”

  Around the dinner table that evening, we all discussed the fire. It had not been deliberately set by anyone. Everything pointed to a merging of weather, materials, and an electrical short. Did God cause that fire, or did He simply use the event that was already going to happen to protect and free His child?

  Sulley brought the discussion to a close with, “If God can part the waters of the Red Sea, drop the walls of Jericho, and close the mouth of a lion, He can take care of His children.”

  Tobias smiled as he rolled the marble around in his hand and calculated to himself, “It has been thirty-seven years since Sulley taught me that having all the right answers is never as important as living out the right answers that you do know.”

  Looking out the window, Tobias thought about all the times since 1917 that Sulley had responded in simply faith. Being right is never as important as responding right—that it is not what you know, but who you trust. As a kid, although he had always cared about Sulley, he knew he had always felt quite superior to him—until that experience with the law. Sulley had always been a humble boy, whereas he had struggled with pride. Seeing Sulley’s strong faith back then was an important lesson he never wanted to forget. Knowledge without faith is arrogance. After that experience, he never again felt superior to Sulley.

  CHAPTER 28

  The War in Europe

  THE PORTER CAME through the car, announcing, “Lynchburg, Virginia, in twenty minutes. Lynchburg, Virginia, in twenty minutes. Ladies and gentlemen, this will be a one-hour layover. All passengers must leave the train while the locomotives are being changed.”

  Tobias secured their belongings on the upper shelf and put on his suit coat again. Since nothing in the suitcase was of any real value, he did not worry about leaving it behind; however, his tin box was quite another matter. Though it contained nothing of monetary value, to him, its contents were all priceless. The tin box contained his whole world, and he did not want to lose it. He tucked it under his arm and walked back to Ruth and Clara. “Clara, would you and your grandchildren like to join Ruth and me for dinner?” A look of concern washed over her face and Tobias quickly added, “It will be our treat.”

  “We would like that, Mr. Bascom, but is there somewhere close that will serve us?”

  Every colored traveler knows exactly what Clara was asking. Tobias offered a reassuring smile, “The porter said there is a nice place called Warren’s Café on Buchanan and 12th that will serve us. It is located only one block from the station. He said Mr. Warren is a nice man, and they have a side door for coloreds. We have plenty of time to walk there, eat, and return before our time is up.”

  Clara, a woman of some mass, did not like the idea of climbing off the train or walking up the hill, but a free meal convinced her it was worth the effort. Besides, she had no choice about climbing off the train. Everyone had to disembark before the conductor could change engines.

  Ruth walked with Clara while Tobias walked with the children. Ten-year-old Rodney and seven-year-old Sheila were silent all the way to the café. Even simple chatter seemed beyond their comfort level, so Tobias decided not to push them to talk and focused on walking. He could feel Rodney’s eyes studying him, but every time he looked over, Rodney turned away.

  Both children were silent throughout dinner, and Clara ignored them. Suspecting that this was their regular routine, Tobias decided not to ask about dessert. Instead, he called the waitress over and asked, “What kind of ice cream do you have today?”

  He watched the children’s eyes as the waitress rattled off several flavors, then said, “Well, I would like two scoops of chocolate.” Turning to Rodney, he asked, “What flavor would you like, Rodney?”

  Rodney turned right to his grandmother with a pleading look—not a word, just a well-practiced look. Clara shrugged her shoulder, and Rodney smiled, “Chocolate too, and Sheila likes strawberry.”

  Turning to Clara, Tobias smiled and asked, “Would you like some ice cream or would a piece of pie better suit you?”

  Clara actually smiled as she turned to the waitress and said, “I like chocolate.”

  After dinner Tobias walked up to the counter and paid the bill. Looking back at the table, seeing Rodney and Sheila po
lishing off their ice cream after a hearty dinner of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, butter beans, and all the milk they could get down them, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend their vacation money.

  As they walked back to the train, Rodney seemed more open than before. Tobias could tell he was studying the tin box, and he finally asked, “Mr. Bascom, is you rich?”

  “No, Rodney,” Tobias chuckled, “I am not rich. Why do you ask?”

  Rodney twisted his mouth, as if trying to pull his facts together. “Well, Mr. Bascom, you be dressed right proper in that suit. Your wife gives away cookies and milk because you have more than enough, and now you paid for our dinner, and even ice cream. You must be rich.”

  “Well, Rodney, I am not. My wife and I love to share what we have with others. God has blessed us with a little bit more than what we need, so we try to bless others. Rodney, did having a good dinner tonight bless you?”

  He did not answer in words, just a quick nod of his head. His eyes filled with gratitude.

  Tobias felt good, knowing these two children were going to sleep tonight with full tummies. Providing their meals was such a small thing on his part, but such a huge matter for these children.

  As they re-boarded the train, Tobias couldn’t help but feel proud of Ruth. Her ability to love and care for hurting people always amazed him. Oh, sure, he had paid for the dinner, but Ruth had made it possible. Married to her for thirty-four years, he had known her for fifty years, and apart from Auntie Ruby, he had never known a more loving and gracious woman. Tobias sighed as he retook his seat, “I am overwhelmed that God allowed me to marry this woman.”

  Ruth continued to sit with Clara, wanting to share her journey of faith with this lost and lonely woman. They knew they only had about an hour before the train reached Culpeper, Virginia, and Clara and the children would be gone. Two hour later they would reach Washington, D.C.