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

by Dorey Whittaker

  In my world, I believe that Karl was the first white man to be colorblind. I am certain there were others, just not in my world. This was a real blessing in our personal relationship, but it was dangerous in public. Karl had not grown up experiencing the backlash of being an uppity black man. At first, he did not understand why I was so resistant to pushing the color barriers. I had attended many a funeral of young black men who thought the time had come to take a stand. We all knew the time was coming, but we also knew the terrible price to be paid by those who pushed against those barriers.

  Having this steady job meant I could finally ask Ruth to marry me. Except for my contribution to the household account and my offering at church, I saved every penny of my pay in the hopes of marrying Ruth and setting up our household very soon.

  One evening I invited Karl to the house for dinner. Since he had already met Ruth, I also invited her. I knew Karl was lonely. His father had died in a hunting accident when he was ten years old, and it was just he and his mother at home. None of the other men on the crew would dare invite their boss to dinner, so Karl felt cut off and alone.

  During dinner Karl told us how he got his job. “You see, my father and Mr. Sutterhill were boyhood friends. They both grew up just outside of Atlanta and had gone hunting and fishing together for years. Mr. Sutterhill’s father was a successful businessman in town, whereas our family came from meager means. When I was ten, my daddy took off for their annual hunting trip. While flushing out birds, Mr. Sutterhill’s foot was caught in a hole, causing him to fall. As he fell, his gun discharged, and the bullet hit my father in the head, killing him instantly. Everyone knew what happened was an unfortunate accident.

  “Mr. Sutterhill swore he would never again go hunting or even hold a gun in his hand. Although my father’s death was an accident and he was not obligated to do anything for us, he was an honorable man. He set up a monthly allowance for my widowed mother. He never came to our house or spoke directly to me, but I know he kept his eye on me. When I returned from the war, a letter from Sutterhill Warehouse, offering me a job was waiting for me.

  “I have never tried to take advantage of Mr. Sutterhill’s kindness. I know my job is the direct result of his sense of guilt at causing my father’s death—not because he cares about me on a personal level. I work extra-hard at his warehouse in order to show my gratitude.”

  Ms. Ruby was the first to comment. “Mr. Sutterhill must be a good man. He did not have to do anything for you or your mother, but he did when many would not. I am glad our Toby is working for such a man.”

  Ruth then added, “The Bible says that taking care of the widows and orphans is the purest form of Christianity.”

  Karl smiled, “I wouldn’t know about that, Ruth. My mother and I are not church goers. Being widowed at the age of thirty, her bitterness runs deep when people talk about God.”

  Ruth, always the one able to step right into the heart of someone’s pain without offense, suggested, “And yet, Karl, might it not have been God who put the idea of caring for your widowed mother into Mr. Sutterhill’s heart? Sometimes we give man the credit, when it is really God who is causing the blessing.”

  Karl studied Ruth’s face, “I never thought it could be God’s doing. It simply has been easier to think that Mr. Sutterhill felt guilty about the accident. Maybe that was what God used to take care of my mother all these years.”

  “Well, Karl,” I offered, “If you ever want to get to know this God who cares for the widows and orphans, I would love to share His story with you.”

  “I would like that, Tobias. If there is a God, and if He cares about me, I should try to get to know Him.”

  SECTION NINE

  TOBIAS:

  With Ruth by My Side

  1922-1941

  31. Ruth and I Got Married

  32. The Battle For Gladys

  33. Suffer or Surrender

  34. Surrendering Our Dream

  35. The Great Depression

  CHAPTER 31

  Ruth and I Got Married

  FOR SEVERAL MONTHS we had a gathering at my house. I led the Bible study and Sulley, Whippoorwill, Ruth, and Karl were in attendance. We sat around the kitchen table while Ms. Pearl and Ms. Ruby sat in the living room listening intently. Ms. Pearl was still having trouble trusting Karl, but she was glad that he seemed so interested in the Bible. It is never easy to lay down our deeply held fears. Pearl had seen so much hatred, she had a hard time believing that any white person could ever be trusted. She was thankful to Karl for giving me a much-needed job, but having him sitting at her kitchen table in her house stretched her beyond her comfort zone. She allowed it because I insisted; but I knew it was always hard for her.

  After about three months, Karl finally expressed his desire to become a follower of Jesus. His prayer was so sincere that even Ms. Pearl had to admit it was real. At the end of the evening, she walked up to Karl and welcomed him into the family of God. I remember smiling as she gave Karl a hug. What she could not do in her flesh—trust a white man, she found she could do in her faith—trust a fellow believer. From that night on, we were all family.

  I had been working for almost a year, and Ruth and I started seriously planning our future together. I had saved enough to secure a rental for us, and we began collecting pieces of furniture. Sulley was a great help. While doing painting jobs in people’s homes, in lieu of payment he would often be offered pieces of furniture. If it was a piece he knew Ruth would like, he would accept it, knowing I would pay him a fair price for it. One of the older ladies of the women’s society had lived in Pennsylvania for several years and suggested the women do what the Amish do for newlyweds—work together to make a wedding quilt. Since none of the women had ever made a quilt, they settled on an old slave tradition of making a braided rag rug for us. The ladies began collecting colorful scraps of material and spent a month making us a much loved rug for our future living room. Ruth and I both knew this rug would always be in our home as a reminder of how much these women loved us. Whippoorwill also organized several of the younger ladies of the church, and they began knitting and crocheting doilies for Ruth.

  In 1921, if a black couple were churched and wished to be married, they would simply invite their pastor to the parents’ house. He would perform the marriage in their living room. Blacks who were not churched walked to city hall and paid a judge to perform the marriage. Ruth’s father, Rev. Johnson, insisted that our wedding would be at the altar of our church. Everyone had watched Ruth grow up and loved her as much as I did. Ours would not be fancy, like the wedding photos of the rich and famous which were published in the Sunday social section of the Atlanta newspapers, but it would be special. Having so many people stand together as witnesses to our vows meant a lot to both of us.

  Aunt Ruby asked if she could make me a new suit for the wedding. I knew this request was important to her, and even though my old wool suit would have cleaned up sufficiently enough not to embarrass my bride, I accepted Ms. Ruby’s offer of love. I knew Sulley was out looking for the perfect tie to go with Ruby’s suit. Sulley always had a soft spot for bright-colored ties, so I asked Aunt Ruby to help him pick out one that I would actually be able to wear on my wedding day.

  Besides the tie, as a wedding gift to us, Sulley offered to paint the living room of our new little rental, while Karl and I cleaned up the woefully neglected yard. While pulling weeds, Karl again mentioned his friend. For several months now, Karl had been asking for prayer for this particular friend of his. He had dated her a few times, but he had decided to stop dating her and only be her friend. At first, this was all he said about her, so we prayed. Eventually, Karl shared that her name was Gladys Thomas and that she did not believe in God. We began to pray more earnestly for Gladys.

  Over the months, Karl’s faith had grown, and he did not want to get involved with a woman who would not share his faith. Once or twice Karl started to share his other concerns but stopped short of telling us his real apprehension. While p
ulling weeds in my new yard, I decided to ask Karl some more questions. “Karl, what is your real fear? Has this Gladys lived a terrible life? Do you fear we will not accept her? Remember my momma’s story, Karl? True faith forgives everything.”

  Karl stopped pulling weeds and sat back, “You don’t understand, Toby. Gladys hates black people.”

  “Most white people do,” I responded glibly. “So what is so different about Gladys?”

  Karl reached over to grab my arm, “Toby, I mean she really hates black people. Remember the murder trial a year or two ago that about started another riot in this city? It was the torture and murder of a prominent white boy by a black boy. Well, that white boy was Gladys’ older brother. Her hatred is so profound, she actually gets sick when she sees a black person.”

  “Wow, Karl, this young woman has really been hurt.”

  “Toby, it’s more than that. Your Auntie Pearl had a very hard time trusting me because of all the hurts white people had caused her, and I understood. I realized that my presence upset her, but Pearl was always polite to me—cold, but polite. She gave me a chance to show her I could be trusted. It took months, but look at us now. She was polite, and I was patient. We both had to accept the other person’s wounds until real healing could take place.”

  “Karl, do you fear we might react badly to Gladys’ hatred?”

  “No, Toby, I don’t. What I fear is that Gladys will not give you a chance to get close to her. She is outspokenly hateful of blacks. I could not ask you to take the kind of rude behavior I know Gladys would dish out. I could not sit there and listen to my dearest friend be so disrespected by a girl about whom I care. Toby, I hate this ugly and cruel part of her. A few weeks ago I told her I was done with her. I could not allow myself to fall in love with someone who could behave like this. I know it all comes from her wounded soul. She loved her brother so very much, and I believe her hatred is how she pours out all her pain. If only God could heal her wounded soul, I believe her hatred would go away.”

  “But Karl, you told Gladys you were done with her, right? But here you are pouring out your heart to me about her. So Karl, let me ask you a question. If you don’t try to reach out to Gladys and share God’s love with her, who will? If no one does, what will happen to Gladys?”

  Karl sighed a huge, heart-aching sigh. “That is exactly the problem, Toby. I don’t know enough to help her. I know what she needs. I just don’t know how to tell her.” Then, the question that had been sitting on Karl’s chest all morning came out. “Tobias, would you be willing to talk to Gladys? Would you try to love her—in spite of her rudeness—for my sake? I know I am asking a lot of you—more than you can really imagine right now. Will you help me to help her?”

  I told Karl I would pray about the matter. I had lived my whole life with the cold rudeness of white people. I knew how to brace myself and not react to their malice; after all, my survival depended upon it. But here I was, being asked to deliberately put myself face to face with pure hatred, and not only not to react, but to love her for Jesus’ sake. Should I? Could I? Would I?

  I wish I could say I responded immediately with a hearty, “Yes, of course I will.” I have to be honest; this request wasn’t that simple. It took a lot of prayer and a lot of talking with Ruth before my heart was willing to surrender to this task. Once I did, Ruth said, “Tobias, it’s not how long it takes us to surrender; it’s only that we do surrender.”

  I knew I was a fortunate man. Even when I struggled to do right, neither my God nor my Ruth condemned me for struggling.

  In between wedding plans, Karl and I devised a plan. He knew Gladys would never agree to come to the Bascom house. That would be asking too much of her. We also knew that nowhere in Atlanta, Georgia, could blacks and whites sit together and share a meal in public. Karl knew his mother would allow him to entertain guests, but the neighbors on either side of them were outspoken members of the Ku Klux Klan. He knew I would not be safe walking in his neighborhood.

  After several days of planning, Karl decided the Sutterhill Warehouse would have to be the place. Before approaching Gladys, Karl and I moved one of the wooden lunch tables over to the far side of the loading yard. We placed it under a tree in order to provide us with some shade from the hot summer heat. Out of habit, most of the men sat at the table right outside the bailing door. At first, they didn’t even notice that we had moved one of the tables, but once Karl and I started sitting out there, one or two other workers came to join us.

  After our lunch, Karl and I started a short Bible study around the table and very quickly, these two men stopped coming to our table. Karl and I sat together at that table for two full weeks before we felt confident the other men would not bother us. Karl laughed, “Toby, remember how hard it was for the team to accept a black man sitting at our lunch table? It didn’t take long for them to change their long-held aversion to eating with a black person—so much so, that when you and I pulled this table away from the others, those two had no problem walking over here and joining us. But pull out a Bible and start talking religion, and watch them scatter.”

  Our wedding day was fast approaching, but Ruth and I were determined not to let it consume our every waking moment. Sulley and Whippoorwill were expecting their first child, and we were just hoping the baby would wait until after the wedding to join the family.

  Both Ruth and I wanted Karl at our wedding, but knew we needed to be cautious. Most of our church family carried deep wounds and feared white men. We did not want our wedding day to be marred by our insensitivity. We wanted Karl there, but we did not want to shove him into the faces of people about whom we cared and loved. We decided that Sulley and Whippoorwill would stand with us, and Karl would just be a guest sitting in a pew. He would be there, but not up front and in the face of our beloved church family.

  I had invited my mother and Brother Jubilee to come, but I knew it would be impossible. Being a street preacher in Harlem meant he lived on donations and the meager pay my mother made cleaning office buildings, but they were happy; that was all that mattered to me. Momma Ruby’s letters were filled with joy and peace. She knew Brother Jubilee loved her, so I was content to send them a wedding photo.

  On Thursday afternoon, Ruth and Whippoorwill baked our wedding cake. Although not fancy, no one had ever tasted a better cake. On Friday afternoon, they were busy frosting it when they heard someone knocking on the front door. Ruth called me in from the back yard where I was polishing my shoes for my wedding day and said, “Tobias, someone is at Pearl’s front door. Could you please answer it?”

  I wiped off the black shoe polish from my fingers as I made my way to the door. Even though very few of our friends were able to buy us wedding presents, one or two gifts had been delivered, and I assumed another gift had arrived. Ill-prepared for what I would see, I swung open the door, let out a loud yelp, and then hollered, “Ruth, come quickly, it’s my Momma Ruby and Brother Jubilee!” My momma just stood there on my front porch, smiling back at me. Brother Jubilee was right behind her with a suitcase in each hand. “Surprise, Toby Boy, we’ve come for your wedding.”

  “Oh, Momma, both Pearl and Ruby are at the church right now. They wanted to make sure everything is just right for tomorrow. Boy, are they going to be glad to see you again and to finally meet Jubilee.”

  Taking the suitcases from Jubilee, I carried them into my bedroom while Ruth guided my mother and Jubilee into the living room. “Did you walk from the train station?” Ruth asked. “You must be hungry. I can fix you some lunch. We are about to finish frosting the wedding cake, so you just relax a moment; I will be right back.”

  Ruth rang back into the kitchen, and I heard her excitedly exclaim, ‘Whippoorwill, can you finish up the frosting while I make some lunch for my future mother-in-law?”

  Whippoorwill ran to the kitchen door and stared at the couple resting on the sofa. Before returning to her task, she giggled as she called out to them, “I love your boy, Toby, Ma’am. He is my husband’s bes
t friend. I’m Whippoorwill, Sulley’s wife.”

  Momma Ruby called back, “I know who you are, Whippoorwill. My Toby has written me lots of letters about you and Sulley. I am so happy to finally meet you, and I can’t wait to meet Sulley.”

  Whippoorwill returned to her frosting as I returned to the living room and sat next to my Momma and wrapped my arms around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “This is the best wedding present I could ever get. How long are you able to stay here in Atlanta?”

  Jubilee leaned forward and said, “We have our return tickets for Wednesday morning. We’re sorry we were not able to give you any notice. We didn’t know ourselves until three hours before the train was leaving the station. Several of our friends knew how much Ruby wanted to be here for your wedding, and they all did extra jobs in order to buy our tickets. They surprised us, and we were able to surprise you.”

  When Pearl and Ruby returned home an hour later, no one stopped talking all evening. It was as if we were all racing to get every story told and every memory shared before we ran out of time. We all had a lifetime of stories we wanted my momma to hear. I felt so good to be able to go up to her and put my arms around her. When I had left New York City at the age of seven, she and I were barely polite strangers. Throughout the years, our letters had drawn us closer, and I really got to know my momma. Now as a young man, to be able to hug and kiss her with absolute freedom was precious to me, and I could not get enough of her. The photos she had sent did not show what I was seeing in her eyes that night—no fear, no shame, no anger—only love.