New Boy

by Julian Houston

  "This is going be a long struggle," said Joseph after everyone had quieted down. His tie was loosened at the neck and he sounded tired, like he'd been through an ordeal. "We need everybody to come back tomorrow and every day after that, until we get to sit down at this lunch counter just like the white folks. If we stay together, we can do it." Everyone cheered as Joseph and the others made their way through the crowd and down the side street. Sylvia showed up and followed Joseph along with Russell and me. When we got to the first of the five cars, Joseph stopped to talk to us.

  "Let's meet here tomorrow morning at eight and follow the same plan. It looks like we could be at this for a while," he said, shaking his head. "That store manager said they would never serve us. We gonna have to be organized to get through this." His voice was raspy, but he seemed determined. It was getting dark and the street was deserted, so we quickly said goodbye to each other. As the cars drove off, Russell and I walked up to Main Street and caught the bus back to our neighborhood. On the way, we sat silently in the back looking out the window at the shops along the street, which were closed. I kept thinking about returning to Draper on Sunday before the sit-in was over. I wanted to stay home to help Russell keep the protest organized. I realized that I had been naive about a lot of things. I had convinced myself that Woolworth's would give in right away and that Paulette and I would sit down at the lunch counter on Saturday afternoon and have a slice of chocolate cake and a glass of milk next to the white kids, and I could take the train back to Draper the next day feeling like a hero. But now I had to face the truth: the play was just beginning and the sit-in would probably go on for months. Maybe it would even, be going on when I came home from Draper for the summer. And I realized that Joseph and Albert and the other students who had volunteered to put themselves on the line were true heroes They were going to be showing up at Woolworth's every morning to sit at the lunch counter, day after day, missing their classes and their exams unable maybe, to even hold a summer job Now I was longing to return home just as I had once been so desperate to leave and somehow I knew then that I would always feel that way yearning for home wherever I happened to be.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  "Did you have dinner?" said Mom when I walked in the back door. She was standing at the stove, and I could smell fish frying in the skillet.

  "I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. We didn't want to buy anything to go from the restaurants downtown, since they won't serve us either, so we took up a collection and sent some volunteers out to a supermarket to buy peanut butter and jelly and bologna and cheese and some loaves of bread, and we made sandwiches for everybody. It was the best sandwich I've ever tasted." My mother gave me a long look. Dad came into the kitchen.

  "Well, look who's here," he said. "How did things go today?" He had taken off his tie and his suit coat and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, and he sat down at the kitchen table as though he was ready for a full account, so I described it all to him. Dad listened closely and didn't seem surprised. "Sounds like they are gonna try to wait you out," he said.

  "By the end of the day, we were singing and clapping and everyone was volunteering to help, promising to come back tomorrow, and there was this feeling that we could do anything, that the sit-in at the lunch counter was just the beginning, and if we stayed together like this, we could end segregation all over town. But, you know Dad," I said, "there was just one thing that bothered me."

  "What was that?" he said, looking at me standing nearby. Mom also glanced at me before returning her attention to the stove.

  "No parents showed up," I said. "Not just you and Mom. Not a single parent, even though we were trying to do something to benefit the whole Negro community. It felt like the parents had washed their hands of the whole thing. I don't understand it. I guess they didn't take us seriously. I was really disappointed." Dad didn't respond, and neither did Mom. Dad was looking at the sugar bowl and the salt and pepper shakers on the kitchen table with his head bowed. I was upset. Without saying any more, I walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway and called Paulette. Her mother answered.

  "Mrs. Gentry," I said. "This is Rob Garrett. May I please speak to Paulette?"

  "Hello, Rob," said Mrs. Gentry. "You're back from school?"

  "Yes, ma'am," I said. "I came down for the protest at Wool-worth's."

  "How did it go?" she said.

  "Pretty good for the first day," I said. "Eleven college students sat in at the lunch counter and stayed there until Woolworth's closed. A lot of students came downtown from high school and college to show their support. There was a big crowd of students outside of Woolworth's by the end of the day."

  "So I guess you didn't have any problems?" she said.

  "None so far," I said. I was wishing she would get off the phone and call Paulette.

  "Well, best of luck to you," she said, and she called Paulette to the phone.

  "Rob?" said Paulette. She sounded breathless. "I've been waiting for your call. Did everything turn out okay?"

  "It was sensational!" I said, and I told her everything that had happened during the day, and the feeling of strength that seemed to emerge from the sheer size of the group. "It was amazing!" I said. "I had never seen anything like it before."

  "I feel awful that I wasn't there," said Paulette. "But I'm glad you got to go."

  "Me too," I said. "I wish I could stay home longer. It's going to be important to keep everybody together. It's great to have so many kids show up on the first day, but they have to be organized so they will keep coming back. Russell's going to have that on his shoulders, but maybe you can help him."

  "I'll do whatever I can," said Paulette. "Maybe we can get Roosevelt to help."

  "Oh, yeah," I said. "I didn't see Roosevelt at all. I guess his father cracked down pretty hard on him."

  "Yeah," said Paulette, "we were in the same boat. Defy your parents and take the consequences or accept the fact that you're living under their roof and do as you're told. I decided to do what they wanted this time, but it won't always be that way."

  "Well, if you and Roosevelt can help Russell with the organizing, that will make a big difference," I said. I was hungry and tired, but I wanted to arrange to see Paulette, and then I heard my mother's voice calling me to the dinner table. "I've got to get off," I said. "My mother's calling me for dinner."

  "Do you have to, right now?" said Paulette. "We just started talking."

  "What was that you were just saying about doing what your parents want?" I said. "I'll come by after dinner."

  We had a quiet dinner in the kitchen. My parents and I sat around the table silently picking the bones out of our fish. I had a feeling there was something that was going unsaid, but I didn't know what it was.

  "You know, Rob, just because we didn't come over to the demonstration today doesn't mean we aren't behind what you're doing. I had appointments with patients scheduled all day today and your mother had to teach school." He still looked embarrassed, and so did Mom, but I guess he was trying to apologize.

  "Look, Dad," I said. "If you really wanted to come, you and Mom had plenty of time to make arrangements. You've known about this for over a month! As I said, I don't think you took us seriously. You thought we were just a bunch of kids trying to show off and get a little attention." I was still annoyed, but I had said enough for the time being. "I'm going over to Paulette's for a little while after dinner," I announced. "I won't stay for long. I have to be back at Woolworth's at eight o'clock tomorrow morning." Dad nodded and looked at Mom, and they continued eating. I finished dinner and asked to be excused. I rinsed my plate and called Paulette to tell her I was coming over. As I rushed out the door, I said goodbye to my parents and they responded so softly I could barely hear them.

  Paulette answered the door wearing a blue-and-red striped dress and the biggest smile. She looked prettier than ever. She took me by the hand and brought me into the living room and gave me a quick kiss and we sat down on the sofa, hold
ing hands and cuddling. We were back together, gazing into each other's eyes, giggling as we recalled how Mrs. Braxton had introduced us, and how we spent New Year's Eve sitting on the steps in the kitchen with the cooks jitterbugging and the firecrackers popping outside. Even though her eye was crooked, it was now so much a part of her face, her beauty, that I couldn't imagine her without it. I put my arms around her and we kissed and it was as if I had never left. I wanted to stay with her on the couch, to hold her as I was doing, forever.

  "What time does your train leave?" she said.

  "Sunday morning, seven A.M. Same as before."

  "Will I see you tomorrow?" she said.

  "I'll do my best. My mother wants to spend a little time with me. I'm going to have to figure out when I can see you."

  "How's school?" said Paulette. I told her about the honor roll and McGregor nominating my paper for the history prize. In the excitement of making the arrangements to come home for the weekend, I had forgotten to give her that news.

  "Oh, Rob!" she exclaimed. "That's wonderful! What an honor!" and she clasped her hands together and closed her eyes. "I hope you win. It would be so great if you won it."

  "Is everything all right in there?" said a voice from the hallway, and then a tall, light-skinned man appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a dark suit, a white shirt, and a striped tie. He had a carefully trimmed mustache and dark eyes, one of which wandered a bit like Paulette's.

  "Daddy, come in," said Paulette. "I want you to meet Rob Garrett." I went over and shook Dr. Gentry's hand as he looked me over carefully.

  "Why, yes," he said. "We've heard quite a lot about you." He was smiling, and he glanced at Paulette. "You're the fellow who goes to school up in Connecticut."

  "Yes, sir," I said.

  "I was just speaking with—that is, I've talked to your father fairly recently," he said. "He's a fine man, a man of real character. You're lucky to have a father like him."

  "I know," I said.

  "Well, I've got to get something to eat and get to bed. I have a full day tomorrow." He extended his hand toward me and we shook. "Don't stay up too late yourself, young man," he said. "I know you have a busy day tomorrow, too." He left us and I turned to Paulette again.

  "He's right," I said, taking her hand. "I only napped on the train and I'm exhausted, and I've got to be at Woolworth's by eight thirty."

  Paulette nodded slowly, but I could see she didn't want to let me go. I leaned over to kiss her and I didn't want to let her go either, but finally I pulled away. On the bus ride home, I thought about her father. He was so dashing, as a lot of the doctors were.

  When I got home the house was dark but the back door was open, and I let myself in. My parents were asleep so I washed up quickly, changed into my pajamas, and climbed into bed. As I closed my eyes, I began to wonder why even the few white people who had ventured inside the store had deserted it by the end of the day and why the skinny white guy with the bow tie had also disappeared. Slowly the veil of sleep fell over me, and I was one with the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  "Robby. Robby, wake up," said Mom. I opened one eye. She was standing over me in a housecoat with her hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me. The bedroom shades were still down, but the sun was out and my room was filled with filmy light. "It's a quarter past seven. Russell just called. He's gonna be here in fifteen minutes. Your breakfast is ready."

  I jumped out of bed, quickly pulled on my clothes, and washed up. Mom served me pancakes and sausage. She poured me a cup of coffee without asking this time, and I drank it fast, while finishing my pancakes.

  "Where's Dad?" I said. After the unpleasantness of our conversation at the dinner table the night before, I thought he might at least stay around to wish us well and say goodbye.

  "He left early," Mom replied. "Something he had to do."

  The doorbell rang.

  "I'll get it," I said. "Must be Russell." I opened the door, and he was standing there.

  "Let's go, man," he said. He was impatient to leave. "I want to get down there." I went into the kitchen to say goodbye to Mom. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and hugged her. "I know we haven't seen eye-to-eye this weekend, Mom, but I still love you." I looked at her and saw that her eyes were a little teary. She nodded and handed me a paper bag.

  "Here's some fruit for you and the others while you're down there," she said. "Now you be careful, and I'll see you when you get back." I took the bag and thanked her and hugged her again, and then I left. Russell and I walked quickly to the bus stop. I could tell something was wrong.

  "What's the matter?" I said.

  "Trouble," he said, shaking his head. "Joseph called me this morning and said the president of Virginia State suspended forty students who attended the protest yesterday. Joseph already called the lawyer to see if there's something he can do."

  "Damn," I said. "Were any of them a part of the sit-in?"

  "Three," said Russell. "Joseph talked to them too. They're worried, but they're coming back this morning. But that's not all." We were almost at the bus stop, and Russell was looking up and down the street the way Joseph had the day before. "Joseph said he heard that the whites are gonna try to break it up today. The Klan may show up." The bus arrived and we climbed on. Even though we were wearing ties and jackets, the bus driver, who was an older white man with thinning hair, gave us a long look as we paid our fare and found seats in the back.

  "What are we going to do?" I said after we sat down.

  "Well, Sylvia made up some leaflets with instructions on how to protect yourself if you're attacked, how to cover up and so forth. We gotta make sure everyone gets a copy and reads it," said Russell.

  "Now I know why there was only one police car yesterday," I whispered. "If it gets bad, the cops aren't going to do anything." Russell looked at me and nodded. When we arrived at the stop for Woolworth's, we got off the bus and hurried down the side street. The five cars were there again and everybody was standing on the sidewalk, gathered around Joseph.

  "We have information that a group of whites are going to show up sometime today to disrupt the protest. If you're inside sitting at the lunch counter, remain seated at all times. If one of us is taking a heavy beating, you can try to cover him with your body, but just remember to cover up yourself. Otherwise, remain seated and be prepared to drop on the ground and go into a ball and cover your head and your face with your arms and hands, like this," and he dropped to the sidewalk like a cat, quickly drew his knees up to his face, and curled himself into a ball. He was lying on his side and his hands were clasped, covering the back of his head, with his arms shielding the side of his face and his knees under his chin. "Take a good look," he said as he lay on the sidewalk. "This is how you have to protect yourself." As we stood around him watching, I tried to imagine how I would keep my cool and follow his instructions if I was attacked. I knew that my instinct would be to run home as fast as I could. "At the first sign of trouble," my father had said, "I want you to promise me you will leave." I had given him my word that I would. But how could I leave Russell and the others if there was violence?

  At nine o'clock we were standing in front of Woolworth's waiting for it to open. The day was warm and sunny again. A group of students from the day before were already standing around in front of the store, and others were arriving. The manager appeared and unlocked the revolving door, and Joseph and his group solemnly walked by him and took their seats at the counter. The closed signs were still sitting on the counter and the kitchen was dark. The manager stood by the door with a toothy smile, as though he was trying to be hospitable. After Joseph and the others took their seats, he disappeared.

  For most of the morning, as the students continued to arrive, Russell, Sylvia, and I stood outside passing out the leaflets that explained how to protect yourself. We tried to talk with each person there to make sure he or she understood the instructions. Even though a lot of people were showing up, we managed to talk to everyone. I saw
again a lot of friends I had grown up with and gone to school with, and they asked me about Draper and why I was back, and I told them this was something I didn't want to miss. I even ran into Charlene. I hardly recognized her without her mother around. She actually looked happy, and kind of pretty.

  Occasionally a few white people appeared: young men driving by, hanging out the windows of their old cars, smart-aleck types with crewcuts, wearing T-shirts and waving Confederate flags and yelling "Nigger" and "Coon" and "Go back to Africa." The students on the sidewalk looked at them with curiosity, and a few even laughed, but we had to ask them to stop when we noticed, because, as Joseph had explained to us, "Laughter will set them off. They can't stand for you to laugh at them." Eventually the whites disappeared, and we started to take up a collection for lunch.

  "Hey, what's coming down the street?" said someone in the crowd. People were straining to get a look up Main Street, where a long line of cars was approaching with their headlights on. At first I thought it might be the Klan, but there was a big black hearse in front. "It's just a funeral," someone said, and I resumed collecting contributions for lunch. As the hearse got closer, however, I could see the gray velvet drapes on the side window and the big silver letters w.k. evans. I saw several cars in the procession that looked familiar, including a Buick Roadmaster just like ours. The hearse turned the corner at Woolworth's and disappeared down the side street, and as the other cars in the procession followed, I looked into the Buick as it went by and saw my father behind the wheel. I was astonished and I rushed around the corner to follow. The procession stopped on the side street and cars were lined up at the curb for almost two blocks. The drivers got out of their cars and they were all men I had known all my life, professional men like my father, all dressed up in suits and ties colored men who had come up the hard way and had lived to tell about it. After they assembled on the sidewalk, W.K. Evans himself, a somber little brown-skinned man in a dark suit, stepped out of a limousine. He held a folded white handkerchief up to his mouth while several of his assistants, also wearing dark suits and chauffeur's caps, stood behind him. The crowd had started to work its way around the corner to get a good look at what was going on. "Where you want to serve it, Garrett?" I heard W.K. call to my father.