Lonely Crusade

by Chester B Himes

  Inside was a cool dim oasis filled with a well-dressed crowd. Only Rosie, because of his slack suit, and Lee, because of his color, seemed out of place. But Rosie gave no indication that he was aware of this. In his bright-eyed look furtively recording the reactions of this tall, thin Negro youth was the wisdom of five thousand years and his hard insouciance was eternal. And by his studied refusal to acknowledge their obvious difference, he helped put Lee at ease.

  Unable to obtain seats immediately, Rosie squeezed Lee into the bar and ordered Martinis. And for once Lee did not feel the tearing microscopy of white eyes or the sexual calculations of white women, whether because the people gathered there were Communists, he could not determine. But he felt grateful for it, and a strange sense of detachment from his former self came over him.

  “This is a nice place, Rosie.”

  “I like the Martinis here,” Rosie replied.

  Shortly the headwaiter beckoned and they followed him to a table in the corner near the pantry door. When the waiter had taken their orders, Lee remarked: “My customary seat in a white restaurant.”

  “You don’t like it?” Rosie questioned.

  “Oh, it’s fine. But I look forward to eating in a white restaurant and sitting up front.”

  “I don’t think this has anything to do with you,” Rosie declared. “It’s on account of my having on a slack suit.”

  “You keep your answers ready, don’t you?”

  “Lee, doesn’t it ever occur to you that all the people in the world are not trying to humiliate you? People have other things to think of. Most of the time they’re not even thinking about you.”

  “Rosie, I wish I could believe that. But in America, it is not so. People give more thought to ways and means of humiliating the Negro than to any other single endeavor—white people, I mean.”

  “No! No!” Rosie objected.

  The waiter appeared with their soup and Rosie ordered Martinis again. Then to Lee he said: “You disconcert me, Lee. You don’t act like a Southern Negro, but you have the Southern Negro’s basic animosity for all things white, it seems.”

  “Well, frankly, Rosie, you don’t act like the average Jew, either,” Lee replied. “You don’t have the Jewish allergy to being a Jew. When we came in, the average Jew would have tried to establish the impression that I was a servant or the like.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Do you call yourself an average Jew?”

  “There is no such thing as an average anybody, or a typical anybody. Those are terms employed to hide reality. As to myself, I am a Communist besides being a Jew. Therefore I can accept the fact that it is not the accident of birth, but the mark of history that makes me a Jew. But don’t forget that as a group Jews are also oppressed, and to accept the fact of being Jewish in a society dominated by gentiles is not an easy thing to do.”

  “Maybe not, but it doesn’t make it any easier to deny it. And that’s what gets me down with Jews. It seems to me like the Jew should be the first to help the Negro for the simple reason that he too is oppressed.”

  “That is logic but not reality. In a bourgeois society all groups make an effort to be identified with the dominant group. Naturally there are Jews who seek to disidentify themselves from their people. And in so doing they must rationalize this action. By escaping Jewish life and culture they feel they can become integrated into the rest of society and solve their own problem, so what better way than to absorb or emulate the national prejudices? And there are other Jews, many among the progressives, cardholders in the Communist Party, who regard acceptance of their identity as Jews as a narrow nationalism—”

  “Now you’re talking as a Communist,” Lee cut in.

  “And also as a Jew,” Rosie said, but after a moment’s thought added: “Perhaps more as a Communist, after all; for the progressive Jews are the ones with whom I am personally concerned—and with whom you’ve probably had most of your contacts. They are the ones who feel that to be a Jew might subtract something from their stature as Communists. As concerned as they are, and genuinely so, with minority group problems, even their own, they still retain many of the prejudices of the land—perhaps as some sort of defense. But for all the faults that Jews might have, you will have to admit that they do more to help the Negro than any other group.”

  “Help the Negro be a nigger, I would say,” Lee muttered.

  Their lunch was served but they barely noticed.

  “Lee, let me put it like this. In this nation Jews are usually the first to give Negroes a chance to progress—that’s a fact. Perhaps what you object to is their motive. They are not afraid to tap the great reservoir of Negro potentiality—but they make a profit by it. Is that what you object to?”

  “What I object to this moment,” Lee replied, “is your Communist trick of trying to disconcert me with the loaded question. Why not talk about some Jewish faults?”

  “Okay, I will proceed without question. Jews are the first to open up new housing for the Negro. I’ll admit that what they do is turn over their ghettos to make Negro ghettos—yes, and at a profit. But if they didn’t do that, where would the Negroes go? Jews have opened, and still own and operate, most business establishments in Negro communities all over the country. Many exploit Negroes, I’ll grant that. But the gentiles wouldn’t even open the businesses. They didn’t even want the Negroes’ money. At least Jewish business serves the Negro community. And Jewish business people don’t exploit Negroes any more than Negroes exploit each other. Just what is back of all this growing anti-Semitism among the Negro people, anyway? It worries me.”

  “Now I can answer you,” Lee replied, “and frankly, Rosie, just two things—contact and attitude. Most of the Negro contact with the business world is with the Jew. He buys from the Jew, rents from the Jew, most of his earnings wind up, it seems, in the Jew’s pocket. He doesn’t see where he’s getting value in return. He pays too much rent, too much for food, and in return can’t do anything for the Jew but work as a domestic or the like.”

  “That is only in cities and—”

  “That is only where anti-Semitism exists among Negroes, also.”

  “And it’s not true,” Rosie continued. “Only the brashly uninformed would make such a statement. Jews have opened practically every field of endeavor, in which they themselves are engaged, to worthy Negroes.”

  “Rosie, it might not be true, but most Negroes think that it’s true.”

  “Do they object to Jews making profit? The Jew is going to make a profit like anyone else.”

  “And the Negro is going to hate him for it.”

  “Do they think gentiles would give them more?”

  “No, but they do not expect any more from gentiles. Look, we accept the fact that gentiles hate us; we’ve always thought they hated us ever since they brought us over here as slaves. We expect them to exploit us and segregate us. We don’t like it, no, but we expect it. That’s the picture we have of them—”

  “And your picture of the Jew?”

  “We don’t expect it from the Jew. We see the Jew as oppressed also—despised and restricted and segregated by the gentiles who do the same to us. So we expect him to be the first to give us a square deal.”

  “Is that what you mean by ‘attitude’?”

  “No, by ‘attitude’ I mean that most Negroes feel that most Jews are anti-Negro.”

  “Anti-Negro in what way?”

  “Well, whatever the Jew might do to help the Negro—as you contend he does—it appears that he is also the first to oppose Negro equality. It seems that he can’t bear the thought of Negroes being considered equal by the gentiles. Then, too, the average—well, not average, but many Jews treat Negroes with contempt and condescension. It seems that they often go out of their way to humiliate Negroes. I can’t exactly explain it, but Negroes feel that the Jew will hold them up for ridicule by the gentile—that in instances where the gentile is not thinking of the Negro, the Jew will call his attention to the Negro as to
an object of scorn.”

  “Do you know this to be so?”

  “Well—”

  “Is this what you dislike about the Jew?”

  “Well—I dislike many things about the Jew—manners and personal habits—”

  “Be specific.”

  “Well—for one thing, I dislike the manner in which Jews bring up their children, the repulsive manner in which Jewish mothers worship sons, making little beasts of them. I’ve sat on a streetcar and seen Jewish tots beat their mothers in the face until—”

  “Many people dislike the color of black skin; they find the formation of Negro features personally abhorrent—would you consider this a valid reason for them to be anti-Negro?”

  Well, no, but there are certain customs in a land—”

  “Must we acquire them to keep from being hated? Isn’t it the best society that provides cultural autonomy for all the racial and religious groups?”

  “That’s not what I mean. There is a certain repulsiveness in the Jew’s basic approach toward life—”

  “In what way, Lee, in what way?”

  “Well, take money, for instance. It seems that Jews put the value of money above all the common courtesies of life. I won’t say Jews are all for themselves as many people think, but Jews can do some pretty harsh things where money is concerned. Look, one time my wife and I were invited to a Jewish doctor’s home to see some moving pictures his wife had taken of the family at a summer resort. It was during the winter and there was an epidemic of colds in the city. After they had finished showing the picture the doctor called all of his guests into the kitchen and gave us cold shots. I thought at the time it was just a favor he was doing us, and although I didn’t want to take the shot, I didn’t see how I could refuse without appearing boorish. But a couple of weeks later we received a bill for the shots.”

  “For how much?”

  “Three dollars for each of us.”

  “That was cheap enough. Even a Negro doctor would have charged you five.”

  “But that’s not what I’m talking about. You don’t invite people to your home and force them to become your patients.”

  “You were not forced, were you? You didn’t have to accept the shots, did you?”

  “Well, practically.”

  “Lee, you try to escape realism. The doctor was doing you a favor to give you the shots for three dollars when the customary price is five or more. Perhaps he could not afford to give them to you for nothing. Do you think that all Jews are rich?”

  “I don’t, no, but many Negroes do, and that’s another thing. They think that Jews control all the money in the world. We Negroes in America know that money has power. We feel that because of their money, the Jews have the power to do more for us than anyone else.”

  “But you, Lee, know that’s foolish, don’t you?”

  “Well—yes, some of it—about the Jews having all the money. But I believe, like other Negroes, that Jews fight, and underhandedly, our struggle for equality.”

  “Lee, let me tell you this. There are few great Jewish capitalists in this nation. Historically, there is a reason for this. Most Jews who emigrated to this country did not have money to buy land. The gentile landowners, merchants, and manufacturers would not employ them for any but the most menial of tasks. Therefore many went into business in self-defense. The same condition exists today. There has been a concerted effort on the part of gentile capitalists to keep Jews out of big business. That’s why Jews—a very small percentage, actually—entered the virgin field of Negro business. The gentile didn’t want it, as the gentile has never wanted any of the dirty, low-profit businesses. You see few Jewish names in the auto industry, the steel industry, aluminum, coal, petroleum, utilities, or building. These are the American big businesses. The Jews have had to grub, Lee; they’ve been discriminated against, oppressed, and segregated right here in this nation. It’s not as obvious or as brutal as Negro oppression, but in many ways it has been more terrifying. Until the Russian revolution this was the last nation on earth where the Jew could feel safe from physical violence. He had nowhere to go and no way to get there. But the Negro American is an American. No matter what happens to him he is still an American. That’s something even Bilbo can’t take from him. He might be pressed down but he can never be liquidated.”

  “That’s all fine, Rosie. But answer me this: why don’t Jews want Negroes to have equality?”

  “With that I don’t agree.”

  “Then you say the Jew is fighting for Negro equality.”

  “Let me answer that in this way. I think you will discover that most Jews are disturbed by the problems of all oppressed groups, and most social-minded Jews take pride in fighting against all racial and religious discriminations.”

  “Against all but the Negroes’.”

  “Perhaps it can best be explained by saying that Jews think in terms of self-preservation. Most of their manifestations of both prejudice and progressiveness are directed toward that end. The Jew has been oppressed, not only today, but for nineteen hundred years; he has been oppressed in practically every nation where he has wandered, in every historical era through which he has passed. The fact that he has survived is not an accident. The Jew has survived by developing habits of survival. He bears the stamp of his oppression—just as the Negro bears the stamp of his oppression. If this is what you dislike in the Jew, you must also dislike it in yourself.”

  “I do,” Lee Gordon said.

  “And that is where you cease to think,” Rosie pointed out. “For out of the people’s oppression has come every new way of life. This is not accident, but one of the processes of materialism. As Marx wrote in the preface to his Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy, ‘It is not the consciousness of men that determines their being, but, on the contrary, their social being that determines their consciousness.’ This is the source of most of our Western culture, civilization, religion, ethics; the source of American democracy, Russian socialism. The Mosaic laws came out of a people who had been enslaved; Christianity was the haven for the Jewish forgotten man when he was being persecuted by the Rabbis and the Cæsars; democracy grew from colonial subjugation; Marxism out of industrial exploitation—”

  “Therefore out of Negro oppression—”

  “Might come Communism to America. Why not? The Negroes are no more separated from the masses in search for a satisfactory way of life than are the Jews.”

  “So all the answers lie in Communism?”

  “What else? The ideal existence of mankind is where property is vested in the state and human values are the highest values.”

  “Look, Rosie, suppose we don’t want to be Communists? Suppose we want first to be capitalists as do most other people of America?”

  “But you can never become bourgeois. To become workers is the Negroes’ millennium. Do you think the Negro people can become bourgeois when they have not yet been accepted by the proletariat.”

  “Perhaps not, but we can give it the old American try.”

  “That is the pity of it.”

  Now the waiter approached. “Are you finished?”

  Neither of them had more than touched their food. “I am,” Rosie replied. “How about you, Lee?”

  “Yes, I’m finished also.”

  “Will you have dessert?” the waiter asked.

  Rosie glanced at his watch. “No, I don’t have time; I have a three o’clock appointment.” Turning to Lee, he said, “But you stay and have your dessert.”

  “No, thanks, but I’ve had enough also. I filled up on conversation.”

  Rosie chuckled and said to the waiter: “Just bring the check.”

  While they were waiting Lee said laughingly: “You still have not given me one really valid reason why the Negro should not be anti-Semitic.”

  “Then I will give you one. Because the Negro has greater enemies than the Jew can ever be.”

  Now Lee laughed aloud. “You always have the answer, Rosie.”


  The check came and Rosie paid it. As they arose Lee said: “I can really say truthfully I enjoyed this lunch, Rosie.”

  “I’m glad you did, Lee. Call me up some time.” Rosie gave him the telephone number. “And when you have a free evening come out and see me—and bring your wife. If you forget the number I’m in the book, the only Abraham Rosenberg on Pomeroy.”

  “Pomeroy? That’s in City Terrace, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, you know it?”

  Following Rosie to the street, Lee blinked his eyes against the afternoon sun. “I lived in City Terrace once.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, for a week.”

  “For only a week?”

  “That’s right, but that’s another story.”

  Rosie halted at the bus stop and Lee waited with him until the bus came.

  “See you, Rosie, and thanks again.”

  “Don’t mention it, Lee. It was a pleasure.”

  A funny Jew, Lee Gordon thought, walking back toward the union shack. And how much of what he said was true? And how much was Communist propaganda? And how much just plain Rosie? But it softened Lee’s tendency toward anti-Semitism to know that the Jew also was afraid.

  Chapter 14

  LEE GORDON lay on the davenport, his head cushioned on the arm rest, reading “Lil Abner” in the Sunday comic section. Ruth sat across from him, curled in the deep armchair, musing over the pictures in the society section. Along with the faint perfume of freshly cut grass and flowers, a pleasant warmth stole in through the open windows and filled the room with the soft, wonderful glow of a lazy day. The serenity of a Sunday had enchanted them.

  At her slight exclamation over something she had seen, he turned his head to look at her and thought how lovely she was in the pale-green robe with her hair down and her professional demeanor relaxed for a change. The impulse stirred in him to kiss her, but he was too lazy to move.

  Just as his eyelids were about to close, the sharp sound of laughter from next door opened them. He raised himself on his elbows to watch the Morrows’ teen-age daughter Yvonne, clad in printed shorts, scamper across the lawn with her Scotty, Zulu, at her heels. The muscles of her long brown legs rippled in the midday sunshine.