The Nigger Factory

by Gil Scott-Heron

  ‘Malcolm said it wuz a new Negro,’ Odds laughed.

  ‘There's some new ones,’ Lawman agreed, ‘but it's a whole lotta ol’ ones too . . . Earl, if you tell people to leave you gonna be cuttin’ off yo’ own nose,’ Lawman pleaded. ‘Who in hell you think Calhoun is after? You an’ MJUMBE, thass who. If the students leave you as good as finished here.’

  Earl managed to get the door open. ‘I know,’ he said softly, continuing into the back of the office. ‘But I gotta do what I think is right. Don't I? How can I ask people to follow me if I'm leadin’ ‘um to Bull Run jus’ to save my own ass?’

  ‘This may not be Bull Run,’ Lawman argued.

  ‘But it might be Jackson State revisited,’ the SGA president offered.

  Odds picked up the connecting wires from the public address system. He took a long look at Lawman and shrugged. Then the two men followed Earl out of the door.

  The green Oldsmobile was in the Carver Hall parking lot directly next to the old science hall. Odds scooted in under the wheel and started connecting the sound equipment. Lawman and Earl watched what resembled a congregation of ants standing in front of the Administration Building on the opposite side of the oval. They could still hear many of the students shouting. Others stood in smaller groups watching the windows of Sutton Hall and talking among themselves. Security guards blocked the entrance to the building itself.

  ‘Somebody gon’ shoot them fuckin’ F Troopers,’ Lawman reasoned.

  ‘I wouldn’ be surprised,’ Earl admitted.

  ‘Ready,’ Odds said.

  The three men rolled away from the lot, Odds behind the wheel and Lawman in the back seat. When the car made its first turn around the oval in front of the congregated demonstrators Earl began: ‘This is Earl Thomas, president of the Student Government Association. We are asking that all female students leave Sutton University as has been proposed by the administration. We are making money available from our emergency fund for transportation and for phone calls and telegrams. We ask nothing of the male students, but we ask that all women co-operate. This is not a question of politics. This is a question of safety and I feel that my office has no way to offer protection to the women of the community. Need I remind Black people of what happened at Jackson State when devil policemen fired into a women's dormitory? Need I remind Black people of the slaughter of the four students at Orangeburg? Need I remind Black people of the treatment we have always received from the devil law officers in America? Brothers, our first responsibility is to the women on campus and we must not ask them to risk their lives . . . Sisters, please go home.’

  The chanting had subsided as students watched the green auto cruise around the oval.

  ‘This is Earl Thomas . . .’

  MJUMBE continued chanting at the door of Sutton Hall hoping to overcome the damper that Earl had put on its demonstration. As if on cue a police siren was heard wailing in the background. Many of the men stayed to save face with their friends, but women slipped quietly away. Earl continued his broadcast and was not only heard, but listened to. Teachers and administrators nodded silently.

  ‘But baby, there ain’ rilly nuthin’ like that goin’ on, is there?’ a tall male student wearing a Sigma sweat shirt was asking a coed.

  ‘Not now,’ she admitted, speeding up her exit toward the dorm.

  ‘Thomas is jus’ a jive-ass Uncle Tom,’ the fraternity man continued. ‘I been tellin’ you that for the longes’ time.’

  ‘Maybe,’ the girl admitted walking faster. ‘I don’ know.’

  And so it went all over campus. Men talked freely and loudly about the stands that they would make and complained about their ‘Uncle Tom’ Student Government president who was chasing their women away. But still coeds made hasty plans to leave Sutton University, Sutton, Va.

  26

  Lying in Wait

  Angela Rodgers sat nervously in front of her television set waiting for the six o'clock news. She had received only enough information from a girlfriend who attended Sutton to set her nerves on end.

  When she called Earl's home and got nothing but more questions from Mrs Gilliam, who had not seen Earl since seven thirty that morning, a call to the Student Government office put her in touch with Earl's secretary. Sheila Gibson explained that Odds had gotten her away from her luggage to man the SGA telephones. Earl, she said, had been last seen driving around the oval asking women to go home. That had been an hour ago.

  The assurance that Earl had been all right up until five o'clock set Angie's nerves at ease for a moment. Then a radio report informing her that police were conferring with the university president put her on tenterhooks again.

  ‘Good evening. In tonight's WSVA headlines Sutton University is closed until November first. We'll have the details on this and other stories making today's Big Six news in just a moment.’ The minute seemed to stretch over a week before the deadpan face of the newscaster reappeared on the small screen.

  ‘At Sutton University this afternoon university president, Ogden Calhoun, stated that he has decided to close the school until a readmission program is instituted on October fifteenth. Calhoun stated that the reason for closing the school was based on thirteen non-negotiable demands placed before him at ten o'clock last evening. He says that it was demanded that he reply by noon today and that his answers brought on a student strike called for by the Student Government Association and an unauthorized campus political organization known as MJUMBE. Earl Thomas, the Student Government president, was unavailable for comment, but Big Six reporter Larry Herman was on hand for Calhoun's five o'clock announcement which brought on a near-riot at the eighty-seven-year-old institution. For that report we switch you to Larry Herman at Sutton University.’

  The scene changed to a younger reporter standing in the middle of the oval path with perhaps one hundred or more male students in the background standing in front of Sutton Hall.

  ‘Behind us you see the remaining demonstrators after almost one thousand students congregated to protest the closing of Sutton University by university president Ogden Calhoun who said and I quote: “I have decided to close Sutton University until such time as the university can institute a readmission program to make sure that the community is able to function at one hundred per cent efficiency.” The demonstration here at Sutton Hall came after five students in dashikis took over the stage and microphone following Calhoun's announcement. The leader of this group called MJUMBE, Ralph Baker, a senior football player, urged students not to leave the campus saying that students at Sutton would never achieve their goals if they allowed Calhoun to close the school. The students then shouted: “Hell no! We won't go!” and marched on this site you now see in the background. The demonstration continued until a car driven by members of the Student Government Association toured the campus with a public address system urging female students to go home. We are waiting now for a statement from Ogden Calhoun and Police Chief Michael Connors who have been conferring somewhere on campus for over half an hour now. Larry Herman. Big Six News.’

  ‘On other campuses nationally . . .’

  Angela turned off the television and sank back into the sofa. She ran long, slim fingers through her short natural hair and started to remove her earrings. She suddenly realized that she hadn't changed her clothes since she had arrived home from the office or even thought of Bobby's dinner. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the four year old's running down the stairs from his bedroom.

  ‘Mommy? When we gonna eat?’ the youngster asked.

  Angie reached out and pulled his cowboy hat over his eyes.

  ‘Soon. Mommy's had a lot of things on her mind. Why don't you go out an’ play with Peanut?’

  ‘'Cause Peanut's eatin’ his dinner,’ Bobby replied. ‘Is Uhl comin’ to eat dinner?’

  ‘I haven't seen Uhl today,’ Angie said, starting to slip out of her dress.

  ‘Mommy? You gonna marry Uhl, Mama?’

  ‘I know a certain little cowboy who's g
onna get scalped,’ Angie said smiling at her son. Bobby ran behind the sofa and laughed heartily. Angie made a gesture as though she would chase him and he scampered to safety up the stairs.

  Angie thought seriously about her son's question all through the preparation of dinner. She rarely liked to think about the implications of her relationship with Earl although she was sure that she loved him and that he loved her. She was more than a little bit nervous and afraid to give herself totally. She wondered sometimes if it wasn't an unbreakable wall of suspicion that she had built up around herself. It always seemed as though, real or unreal, someone was taking from her and she wasn't getting anything back. Often she felt empty after she quarreled with Earl. Even when she felt that she had been right during an argument she felt that he walked away with a piece of her inside of him.

  She heard the shrill toot of the toy train that Earl had bought Bobby for his birthday. Bobby was a blessing. For a while he had been all that had kept her going. She couldn't imagine facing the house without him; without the echo of his laughter in the yard as he ran and ripped with the young boy from next door; without the big grin on his face when he had been doing something that he had no business doing. He was the spitting image of his father. Round head with curly hair, dark brown eyes planted carefully in a caramel face like the pieces of coal on a snowman, large grin and even teeth. Bobby indeed was a blessing.

  Earl was a blessing too. He had completely changed her life. In his own way he had given new shape and strength to her life. She had taken pains to explain her family situation to him over dinner on their first date. She suspected that he wouldn't be interested in her any more and considered that unfortunate because she had such a wonderful, natural time with him, laughing and talking as though they were long-time friends. He had surprised her by approaching her during lunch the following day and asking for a second date, which she had happily arranged.

  They met in midtown on the following Saturday. Saturday was always her shopping day and Bobby usually spent the afternoon with Peanut, the youngster next door. Angie picked up the few articles that she had in mind for Bobby before meeting Earl and taking in a movie. After the show he had driven her to the shopping mall and helped her select the groceries and then had taken her home.

  Earl and Bobby hit it off like old friends. Earl was up-to-date on Batman, Gunslinger and Mighty Mouse, to name only a few of Bobby's favorites. Angie had commented that apparently Earl spent as much of his Saturday morning in front of a television as the four-year-old.

  Earl and Angie began to see each other regularly. She began to feel he was what had been missing in her life during her self-imposed isolation after Bobby's father had left her. She began to realize that all the frustration she had felt during that time was a result of her need for a strong, mature man. Earl Thomas was that type of man.

  She also felt that Earl was good for Bobby. She had approached the situation of rearing Bobby with anxiety. As far as she was concerned all boys needed male figures to identify with and the only question in her mind was how much Bobby would be hurt by the absence of a man in the house.

  It had seemed as though the summer lasted only a few days because before Angie knew it Earl was back in school. She had been happy that he seemed so pleased with his summer earnings. He told her that he had never made as much before during a summer. He had also been offered a permanent opportunity at the factory, but he had turned it down to concentrate on his schoolwork and his duties as president of the Sutton Student Government Association.

  Their lives had slid into a nice groove as far as Angie was concerned. No less than two or three nights a week, many times more often, Earl was at the house when she got home from work. She would cook for him and he would talk to her about the things that he was doing. That was more than important for Angie. It was necessary. Earl had opened her eyes to the fact that she was lost without a man and he had turned out to be the kind of man that she needed. She had come to depend on him to be there when she looked for him. And now there was trouble on Sutton's campus and Earl was neck-high in it. She felt helpless and frightened. She felt alone.

  27

  The House on Pine Street

  In the kitchen of Mrs Gilliam's boarding house on Pine Street two other interested observers had watched the six o'clock news on WSVA, the local channel. Mrs Gilliam and her favorite tenant, Zeke Dempsey, were discussing the news report when Earl Thomas barged directly into the kitchen through the back door from the driveway.

  ‘Well, if it ain't the star of the show,’ Zeke said lightly. ‘How you doin’ stranger? You know Miz Gilliam, I believe.’

  ‘Yeah. Right. How're you, ma'am? Whuss the put-on?’ Earl asked, sitting down opposite Zeke at the kitchen table. Mrs Gilliam, as usual, was stirring up a concoction at the stove.

  ‘Well, we see ya so rarely ‘roun’ here,’ Zeke began laughing. ‘Thought it might be a good idea to reintraduce ourselves an’ start all over.’

  ‘I guess I know what you mean,’ Earl apologized. ‘I'v been rather brief. I came in late last night an’ when I got up Miz Gilliam had already had her breakfast an’ gone to the market. I don’ know if you was at work or what.’

  ‘I went to rake leaves at the Coles's this mornin’,’ Zeke admitted. ‘I guess that was ‘bout eight.’

  ‘I was later than that,’ Earl said.

  ‘I'm usually here, but I went out in the country this mornin’ to get some fresh veg'tables. Me an Old Hunt,’ Mrs Gilliam replied.

  ‘That car runnin'?’ Zeke asked laughing. The talk in the boarding house generally was that Old Man Hunt's Dodge wouldn't run downhill.

  ‘Didn't go too fast,’ Mrs Gilliam laughed, waddling back over to the table. ‘Every time we did above forty or so it start coughin’ like a tubercular, but did all right.’

  ‘Fresh veg'tables?’ Earl asked picking up the lost thread.

  ‘Had to, child,’ Mrs Gilliam mocked. ‘Sto’ bought veg'tables start to tas’ like wax after while. I hate to go to the country ‘cause it generally take so long after you talk to them ‘bout everything thass happened since you las’ saw them, but I had bought this oxtail for some oxtail soup an’ I couldn’ see the point in havin’ it without havin’ some good veg'tables.’ She took the top off the large pot with a potholder. The warm, tantalizing fragrance of oxtail escaped from what Earl referred to as ‘the cauldron.’

  ‘Heard school been closed down,’ Zeke said offhand.

  ‘Yeah,’ Earl said quietly. ‘I was out there all day tryin’ to get different things together. We called the head of the Board of Trustees in D.C., but she was so busy talkin about how great “Brother” Calhoun was that I knew I wouldn’ get anywhere. Then we printed notices an’ put ‘um in faculty boxes callin’ a Faculty Only meetin’ for in the mornin’, but I don't know what I'll say if we have it. The things that we had in mind aren't really relevant any more.’

  ‘Calhoun took care of that,’ Zeke said.

  ‘I s'pose it was my fault,’ Earl said. ‘I'm sure that most of the overall picture is my fault, but it seems that I should know better than to think Calhoun will take a long time to move by now. I should've been expectin’ him to close school down when I handed him the paper las’ night.’

  ‘I don’ think you're right this time at all, Earl,’ Zeke said quietly. ‘Now I know I'm not a college man like yo'self an’ I have always regretted that I wasn't, even if I hadn't had any particular use fo’ a degree in the kinda work I'm doin’ now,’ the handyman smiled. ‘But many's the person has tol’ me that I'm blessed with what I call common sense, good ol’ horse sense. I believe that along with the bookin’ that you have done God gave you some horse sense also. None of the other school presidents have reacted so quickly to their protests like Calhoun. I don't think there was any way for any person to predict that he would do that . . . I think sometimes you try to carry more than your share . . .’

  ‘Amen,’ said Mrs Gilliam.

  Earl was sitting opposite Zeke and look
ing out of the window. He hadn't looked at his friend and fellow-boarder once, but it was obvious that the words were having their effect.

  ‘You know it's not but so much that one man can do,’ Zeke continued. ‘It's not but so much that one man should do . . . you know I heard you talkin’ las’ week ‘bout how you had to hurry to get them papers together because the students were expectin’ them an’ would be on yo’ back.’

  ‘That was about keepin’ my word,’ Earl said, interrupting and lighting a cigarette. ‘I was . . .’ the young man cut himself off. He began to feel as if he were becoming defensive though he didn't feel a need to be defensive with Mrs Gilliam and/or Zeke.

  ‘You remember what I'm talkin’ about?’ Zeke asked, lighting a smoke of his own. ‘Na mebbe this thing today an’ las’ night has got somethin’ to do with yo’ not havin’ yo’ papers done, but how many a them was helpin’ do the work? I mean aside from the two friends who come by here?’

  ‘Nobody really,’ Earl admitted.

  ‘An’ yet they wuz the ones you knew wuz gonna be on yo’ back,’ the handyman said laughing. ‘The firs’ complainers an’ the las’ workers. Thass been a problem wit’ Negroes forever an’ a day in the United States. The firs’ complainers an’ the las’ workers.’

  ‘I had things I was s'pose to do,’ Earl said, refusing to see the point.

  ‘Right!’ Zeke agreed. ‘But the whole thing is that you would have done yo’ work an’ been in the same situation. You'd be still the only one doin’ any. Martin Luther King did his work. Malcolm X did his work. But when they died the movements that they started died.’

  ‘Oh, man,’ Earl exclaimed.

  ‘All I'm sayin’ really is that you were workin’ for a buncha ingrates who wouldn’ appreciate you if this was yo’ thing by yourself. That with a li'l help you mighta made it . . . what I mean is that you always blamin’ yo'self somehow no matter what happens. You ain’ never gonna make it through life that way. It's all right to take yo’ responsibilities seriously. It's the bes’ thing in the world for a man if he's gonna be a man, but you gonna fin’ that yo’ responsibilities are gonna be enough without you takin’ on what people should be volunteerin’ to share since it's for everybody's own good.’