by D M Barrett
* * *
When the trio arrived back at Community Church, Lee Bell suggested that they sit on the large front porch steps and talk. The preacher agreed.
“Preacher, we still have two problems that’s gonna be hard to solve,” Lee Bell explained.
“What are the two remaining problems that you don’t think the Lord can solve, Brother Bell?” the preacher asked.
“Now I ain’t bettin’ against the Lord, you see. But, we gotta find me some work, and we have to find a place to stay,” Lee Bell explained.
“One problem is solved. You two will stay here at the church until we find you a permanent place. Tomorrow, we’ll be making our rounds finding you some permanent work,” the preacher explained.
“We may be blessed enough to find some work in this community. But finding a house for coloreds will be much harder. If you think getting a welcome seat at the Bluebird was hard, wait till you try to get a rent house for us,” Lee Bell said.
“Why is that going to be so difficult?” the preacher asked.
“White folks don’t want to eat around black folks. But white folks won’t live in a house that’s been lived in by coloreds,” Lee Bell explained.
“Do the fools think that being black is akin to having leprosy?” the preacher asked indignantly.
“You ain’t right, preacher. You just ain’t right,” Ruth Bell said with a chuckle.
“Why do you say that Sister Bell?” the preacher asked.
“You’re prone to think like a black man in a white man’s body,” she responded.
“I’m here to tell you, pastor, that’s dangerous in the south during this depression,” Lee Bell said seriously.
“Let me show you our facilities around back and then I’ll give you the grand tour of this old meetinghouse,” the preacher suggested.
After a tour of the church grounds that included the two outhouses, root cellar, and the outdoor shower, Lee Bell asked if he could use the shower. The preacher nodded. Ruth Bell told the pair that she would wait for them in the church auditorium.
Lee Bell drew two five-gallon buckets of water from the hand dug well. He carried them to the back porch and removed his tattered shirt and overalls. He poured the first bucket in the shower bucket and the water started hitting his head and shoulders.
“There’s soap on the shelf. I’ll tell your wife to get you a towel from my chifforobe,” the preacher said.
“Ruth ain’t my wife preacher. I used to have a wife about ten years ago, but she died. Ruth is my sister,” Lee Bell explained.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to her?” the preacher inquired.
“She died from tuberculosis. Ruth never married,” Lee Bell said.
“I’m noticing horizontal scars on your back. How did you get those?” the preacher asked.
“When we were little, we lived on Mr. Dawes Smith’s farm with our parents. One day Mr. Smith caught me and Ruth stealing a watermelon from the patch. He made us strip naked and beat us with a black snake whip. It's like one you whip cattle and horses with. Ruth has scars, too,” Lee Bell explained.
“Didn’t your parents intervene?” the preacher asked.
“What do you mean?” Lee Bell asked.
“Didn’t your parent try to stop the beatings?” the preacher asked.
Lee Bell looked at the preacher and explained, “Our family lived on Mr. Smith’s land. We worked for him. We stole his watermelon. He whipped us hard. We begged, pleaded, and cried for him to stop. He was a hard man without any mercy.”
“Why didn’t your father physically stop him? Why didn’t he take that whip away and beat him?” the preacher asked in rapid succession.
“Listen to me pastor. If a black man touches a white man in anger, that's a guaranteed lynching. You’d be dancing at the end of a rope within hours. My daddy done what any black man would have done. He let Dawes Smith deliver the punishment as bad as it was. He did what I would have done,” Lee Bell explained.
Ruth Bell opened the back door slightly and announced to the preacher that the sheriff and a deputy were at the front door asking for him. The preacher directed her to get Lee a towel from the chifforobe in his room. Afterwards, he walked through the church auditorium and to the front door.
“Preacher, we’re here to arrest Lee Bell,” the sheriff announced.
“What is the charge?” the preacher asked defiantly.
“There’s been a complaint of vagrancy made against him,” Sheriff Hankins replied.
“Is this a joke?” the preacher asked with an unbelieving look.
“The Tennessee Code says that a vagrant is a person without a settled home or regular work who wanders from place to place and lives by begging,” Sheriff Hankins retorts.
“There are no facts that support that accusation,” the preacher said with a chuckle.
“That’s not for you to decide, preacher man,” the red face sheriff responded arrogantly.
“You will not remove him from this church,” the preacher stated bluntly.
“Step aside pastor or you’ll spend a night in jail with him,” the sheriff warned.
“If you step one foot inside this sanctuary, I will file a federal lawsuit against you and your deputy for willful violation of Lee Bell, Thomas P. Mann, and Community Church’s civil rights and own you,” the preacher warned.
“How do you figure that?” Sheriff Hankins said with a laugh.
The preacher replied defiantly, “42 United States Code Section 1983 enacted in 1871 says, ‘Every person who, under color of any statute, ordinance, regulation, custom, or usage, of any State or Territory or the District of Columbia, subjects, or causes to be subjected, any citizen of the United States or other person within the jurisdiction thereof to the deprivation of any rights, privileges, or immunities secured by the Constitution and laws, shall be liable to the party injured in an action at law, suit in equity, or other proper proceeding for redress.”
“Well . . . er . . . I . . .,” Sheriff Hankins stammered.
“Let me tell you how the cow ate the cabbage when she got in the garden, sheriff. You have no arrest warrant, you have no search warrant, you have no sworn affidavit with facts sufficient to get a misdemeanor warrant for vagrancy,” the preacher said angrily.
“I got this complaint this morning and. . .” the preacher interrupted Sheriff Hankins in mid-sentence.
“Sheriff Hankins, you are about 30 seconds from me sponsoring an opposing candidate in the upcoming sheriff’s election. You’ll be the one that’ll be worrying about a vagrancy complaint,” the preacher said with a raised voice.
“Now, Brother Mann, we need to calm down and I’ll make this thing go away,” the sheriff promised.
“You just do that, sheriff. While you’re at it, take your deputy and get your asses off this property before I drive to Cookeville and swear out a criminal trespass warrant. You have no legal right to be here, and you have been asked to leave,” the preacher barked.
The sheriff nodded to the deputy that it was time to leave. The two men left the church like their asses were on fire and their fronts were catching.
When he closed the door and turned around, the preacher came face to face with Lee Bell. Ruth Bell stood beside him. Both had frightened looks.
“Preacher, you are fighting battles that you can’t win. You tried hard and made progress at the Bluebird this morning. You knocked out that vagrancy complaint of those Ku Klux Klan boys, the Daltons. You need to declare a truce and move on. If you continue fighting white folks over their prejudice, it’ll destroy your ministry,” Lee Bell explained.
Brother Bell, the Lord said, “‘Think not that I am come to send peace, but a sword.’ There is a heaven. It is not a white only heaven. It is not a black only heaven. It is just a heaven for God’s children regardless of their skin color.”
“That sheriff said he’d take you to jail and put you in the cell with Lee,” Ruth Bell reminded.
“Well then it’s not
a white only cell. I’ll be in good company. Jesus, Paul and Silas, Peter and John, thousands of the early Christians, and many church leaders in the last few centuries have been jailed or worse,” the preacher said.
“I guess we’d be in good company,” Lee Bell remarked.
“Indeed,” the preacher replied.
The preacher suggested that Ruth might want to freshen up while her brother rested in the auditorium. The preacher went to a slatted bench in the front part of the church yard and pondered the day’s events. He thought about some words to the song, ‘Take Them Away’, which descried situations similar to those of the Bells:
“Take ‘em away, take ‘em away, Lord
Take away these chains from me
My heart is broken cause my spirit’s not free
Lord take away these chains from me
Land that I love is the land that I’m workin’
But it’s hard to love it all the time when your back is a- hurtin’
Getting’ too old now to push this here plow
Please lay me down so I can look at the clouds.”
After a while, the preacher walked to the church door and opened it. He motioned for Lee Bell to come out.
“We’re not waiting till tomorrow to get started on a job for you and housing for the two of you,” the preacher stated.
Lee Bell nodded affirmatively. He walked along with the preacher as they made it to the road and started walking west toward Cookeville.
“Where’s we headed?” Lee Bell asked.
“We are going to Martin Salvage and Sawmill to see Finis Martin,” the preacher replied.
“He don’t like black folks,” Lee Bell opined.
“He doesn’t like preachers either,” the preacher said dryly.
When the pair arrived at Martin Salvage, Lee Bell suggested that he remain outside. The preacher barreled down the aisle to the back counter.
“Are you calm or upset?” Finis Martin inquired.
“Calm, but why do you ask?” the preacher responded.
“Word is that you did everything but whip Sheriff’s Hankins’ ass after lunch today. Word is that he’s taken a week off and headed to Gatlinburg,” Finis Martin said with a chuckle.
“Maybe that mountain air will replace the air that’s in his head, Brother Martin” the preacher said gruffly.”
“When you said, Brother, I grabbed my wallet, preacher,” Finis Martin said with a smile.
“I’m here with a business proposition,” the preacher replied.
“Let’s hear it,” Mr. Martin replied.
“I want to rent that old dilapidated shed on the back of your property, behind the mill, toward the woods, and leave it in place,” the preacher offered.
“Why in the world do you want that shed?” Mr. Martin asked with a very puzzled look.
“The church wants to fix it up for a displaced black family,” the preacher explained.
“Who’s doing the work?” Finis Martin inquired.
“Lee Bell until he finds regular work,” the preacher said.
“I have a deal for you. I will rent the shed and furnish the used and salvage materials for Lee Bell to upgrade and enlarge it,” Finis Martin said.
“What’s the catch?” the preacher inquired.
“He’ll work for me in the mill with John Norris, keep the store clean, and serve as an on-property night watchman of sorts,” Finis Martin offered.
“What’s his pay?” the preacher asked unabashedly.
“It will be a dollar a day less than John Norris,” Mr. Martin responded.
“Is that because he’s black?” the preacher said as he looked sternly at Mr. Martin.
“No, it’s because he’s getting free rent,” Mr. Martin said as he made direct eye contact with the preacher.
“That is very fair. That is very fair,” the preacher said with a slight break in his voice.
The next day Ruth Bell began working at the Bluebird Café and Lee Bell began working at Martin’s Salvage and Sawmill. They stayed at the church for the first month until Lee could make headway on refurbishing and enlarging the old shed into a decent dwelling.
After a week Sheriff Hankins returned from Gatlinburg. He called the Discount Grocery and asked Jack Wright to have the preacher meet him there about 11:00 am that day.
The preacher was waiting for the sheriff. He parked his patrol car and walked into the store. He nodded at Jack Wright and looked firmly at the preacher.
“Tom, I want to apologize for our altercation. I was wrong and you set me straight. If you were a lesser man, I would have cuffed you and taken you to jail,” Sheriff Hankins said.
“Sheriff, you were arrogant, and I overreacted based on other things that happened that day. With that said, if you were a lesser man, I would have whipped your ass like Jesus did to the money changers in the temple,” the preacher replied.
“Now that we’ve got that straight, let me buy you lunch at the Bluebird Café,” the sheriff said.
“That won’t work,” Jack Wright said.
“Why won’t it work?” the preacher inquired.
“Because I’m closing the store for an hour and buying lunch for both of you,” Jack Wright said as he walked toward the pair and put his arms around them.
12: A Widow, A Banker & A Teacher
The morning thundershowers kept the preacher in the meetinghouse with the lights on for his study time. The frequent claps of thunder and bolts of lightning finally convinced the preacher that he should postpone his morning's work.
The preacher grabbed his black coat and opened the door of the church. The rain was only sprinkling, and the lightning had ceased for the moment. He opted for a quick walk across the road to Discount Grocery.
“Preacher, you’ve got to roll out of the bed and get an earlier start these days,” Jack Wright teased.
“What’s happening in the jewel of the Upper Cumberland that just can’t wait?” the preacher replied tongue-in-cheek.
“First, Miss Ruby has opened a sewing business in the old mercantile store. Secondly, George Hickman at Harriman Bank said he needed to see you about a new business deal.
Thirdly, the phone company is installing an exchange with a new operator and a main line in the storage area of this store. Finally, Henry Wooden called and said he had a deal for you and needed to speak with you right away,” Jack Wright reported.
“I’m glad you wrote all that down. It’s too early for me to keep that many things straight,” the preacher replied as he walked toward the door with messages in hand.
“Where are you headed first?” Jack Wright inquired.
“It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honour of kings is to search out a matter,” the preacher replied quoting from the Book of Proverbs.
“What kind of an answer is that?” Jack Wright whined.
“It means: ‘I’m not saying, and it’s best for you to find out on your own,’” the preacher explained as he walked out the door.
“That preacher gets ornerier every week,” the shopkeeper muttered to himself.
The preacher decided to pay a visit to Miss Ruby’s new clothing store and wish her well. He knew that her business had increased significantly since the advent of the Mountain Excursion's twice daily stops.
Miss Ruby saw the preacher approach the store and ran to the door to greet him. The preacher smiled as she opened the door and hugged him.
“Preacher, you’ll never know in this life how much you have done for me and these two girls,” Miss Ruby exclaimed.
“What do you mean, Sister Ruby?” the preacher inquired.
“We were all barely surviving making a few clothes and quilting a quilt or two occasionally. You called down a miracle getting that train to stop, and now we have almost as much as we can get done every week,” she explained.
“Miss Ruby, I am so glad that things are going well for you. Do you have any plans for further expansion?” the preacher asked.
“The
only thing holding me back is lack of quilt pieces for quilting and more orders for clothes. I have a half dozen ladies that would love to work here or from home,” Miss Ruby said.
“I am very excited for you, Sister Ruby,” the preacher replied.
“But there’s more! George Hickman down at the bank gave me six months free rent and a reduced monthly amount for the next six months. He called it the PDP,” Miss Ruby said.
“What is the PDP?” the preacher inquired.
“George Hickman said it was the Preacher’s Development Plan and that he learned it from you,” Miss Ruby said.
“Indeed,” the preacher said under his breath.
“There something else exciting,” she said with a large smile.
“I’m not sure I can stand much more excitement, Miss Ruby,” the preacher replied with a chuckle.
“George Hickman ordered a brand-new black suit and white shirt for you. We worked all weekend and here they are,” Miss Ruby announced.
“I really don’t know what to say, Miss Ruby,” the preacher gasped.
“It’s of the Lord. It’s of the Lord. George Hickman has got conviction in his heart, preacher,” Miss Ruby exclaimed.
The preacher nodded and headed for the dressing room to make sure the clothes fit. Although he did not reply, he thought that the conviction might be located closer to the banker’s wallet than his heart.
* * *
After dropping off the new black suit and white dress shirt at the church, the preacher determined to invite George Hickman to lunch at the Bluebird Café. It was Thursday and that meant fried chicken and buttermilk gravy.
When the preacher got to Harriman Bank, Drusilla informed him that her father was at the main office in Harriman, Tennessee for the entire day. The preacher told her to tell Mr. Hickman that he stopped by to personally thank him for the new clothes.
Drusilla suggested that the preacher take a pen and paper from her father’s desk and write him a personal note. She said she would make sure to tell him that the preacher had stopped by and was very appreciative of the gift.
The preacher made his way back to the store. He hoped to invite Jack Wright to lunch. He really didn’t want to miss fried chicken day.