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Authors: Ralph Ellison

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BOOK: Juneteenth
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But now through the amber and deep-blue ringing of the glass, it was another voice he feared, a voice which threatened to speak from beneath the tent and which it was most important to enfold, to muffle beneath the billowing canvas.…

Then he was back on the Senate floor again and the forbidden words, now hoarsely transformed, were floating calmly down to him from gallery and dome, then coming on with a rush.

“For Thou hast forsaken … me,”
they came. But they were no longer his own words nor was it his own echoing voice. And now, hearing what sounded like a man’s voice hoarsely singing, he struggled to bring himself erect, thinking,
No! No! Hickman? But how here? Not here! No time, no place for HICKMAN!

Then the very idea that Hickman was there somewhere above him raised him up, and he was clutching onto a chair, pulling himself into a sitting position, trying to get his head up so as to see clearly above as now there came a final shot which he heard but did not feel …

He lay on his back, looking up through the turbulent space to where the bullet-smashed chandelier, swinging gently under the impact of
its shattering, created a watery distortion of crystal light, a light which seemed to descend and settle him within a ring of liquid fire. Then beyond the pulsing blaze where a roiling darkness grew he was once more aware of a burst of action.

Now he could hear someone shouting far off. Then a voice was shouting quite close to his ear, but he was unable to bring his mind to it. There were many faces and he was trying to ask them
Why the hell’d he do it and who else was it?

I can’t understand, can’t understand. My rule was graciousness, was politeness in all private contacts, but hell, anything goes in public. What? What?

Harry said if it gets too hot hop out of the pot. I say, If the tit’s tough no one asks for milk when the steaks are high
.

Lord, Lord, but it’s hot. HOT! It hurts here and here and there and there, a hell of a clipping. How many rounds?

Lawd … Say Lord! Why? Ha! No time to go West but no time to stay East either, so blow the wind westerly, there’s grease for the East
.

I said, Donelson, crank it, man! Who broke the rhythm of the crowd? Old fat, nasty Poujaque! Don’t accuse me; if I could pay them I could teach them! If they could catch me I could raise them up. That’s their God-given, historical, woodpile role! Where was Moses, I mean to say?… No, let the deal go down. And if the cock crows three, I’m me, ME!—in the dark
.

Roll the mammy-scratching camera, Karp! On with the lights! Hump it now! Get them over to the right side. It hurts, it was worth something in the right body for the right hand.…

Then I said, Politics is an art of maneuvering, and to move them you must change home base. Now
you
tell ’em because Ah stutter, Donelson said. But minds like that will never learn.… Hell, I’ve out-galloped Gallup—New Mexico, wasn’t it? What happened to Body? Well, so long, old buddy, I missed touch, lost right hand but didn’t forget. How the hell explain stony-going over stony ground?

Karp, you high-minded S.O.B., will you
please
get some light over here? And keep the action going!…

Yes, yes, yes! I’m all cud, bud; all chewed up like a dog! Like a dog. It was like shooting fish in a barbell. Fall! Fall! Take a dive! Green persimmons …

She said “Mother” and screamed and I said “Mother” and it shot out of my throat and something ran like hell up the tent and I doubled back and when I lifted the flap—dark again!

Roll the cameras!

What? What?

Perhaps you’re right, but who would have thought what I knew on the back of my neck and ignored was ripening? A bird balled! That was the way it was. Oh, I rose up and she said “Mother,” and I doubled back and he looked down upon the babe and said, “Look, boy, you’re a son of God! Isn’t that enough for you?”

But still I said “Mother” and something ran up the tent like a flash and then they came on, grim-faced and glassy-eyed, like the wrath of God in the shape of a leaping, many-headed cat … a stewardess’s cap … What dreams … what dread …

Don’t ask me, please. Please don’t ask me. I simply can’t do it. There are lines and shadows we can’t stand to cross or recross. Like walking through the sharp edge of a mirror. All will be well, Daddy. Tell them what I said
.

ROLL THE CAMERA!

What? What?

Who was? Who did that against me? Who untuned Daddy’s fork when he could have preached his bone in all positions and places? I might have been left out of all that—Ask Tricky Sam Nanton, there’s a preacher hidden in all the old troms—Bam! Same tune in juke or church, only Daddy’s had a different brand of anguish
.

Lawd, Lawd, why?

What terrible luck! What a sad kind of duck! Daddy strutted with some
barbecue and the hot sauce on the bread was red and good—good—good. Yes, but in Austin they chilled the beans
.

“Mother,” she said
.

“But weren’t the greens nice in Birmingham?” Sister Lacey said
.

And she said “Mother” and I came up out of the box and he said “Let there be light”—but she didn’t really mean it. And she said “cud” and that should have been worth the revival. But he wouldn’t tell
.

Oh, Maggie, Jiggs, and Aunt Jemima! Jadda-dadda-jing-jing! I miss those times sometimes.…

This game of politics is fraught with fraud, Ferd said—and a kiyi yippi and a happy nappy! So praise the Lord now, Pappy, and pass the biscuits! Oh, yes, the A.G. said, give ole Razorback Bill a guitar and the room to holler “nigger” and he’ll forget about trying to pass for an intellectual.… A slow train through East Razorback on Captain Billy’s Whizbang more pious than the Pharisees.… Hell, it was easy, easy. I was working as the old gentleman’s chauffeur and he caught me in bed with his madam. He was amazed but calm. Who the hell are you, anyway? he said. And I thought fast and said, I’m a nigger; so you can forget it, it don’t count. I’m outside the game. What? he said. Yes, I said, I am—or at least I was raised for one. So what are you going to do about it? And he said, Do? Hell, first I’m going to think about it. And then I’ll decide. Was she satisfied? I don’t know, I said, but I’ve had no complaints. Well, he said, taking that into consideration you might as well continue until she does. I’m a busy man and no old fool. Meanwhile I’ll think about making you a politician. That should teach you to obey the Commandment.… So because she was years younger than the old gentleman I made a classical entry into the house. Bull-rushed the bullyraggers.… Yes, but you just wait, he said. The Spades’ll learn to play the game and use their power and the old war will be ended.…

Oh, no! We’ll legislate the hell against them. Sure, they must learn to play the game but power is as power does. Let’s not forget what the hell this is all about. They’ll have to come in as I did—through the living gate and sometimes it’s bloody. But they ought to know from back in Seventy-four
.

Mister Movie-Man … she said
.

God is love, I said, but art’s the possibility of forms, and shadows are the source of identity. And Donelson said, You tell ’em, buddy, while I go take a physic.…

Hold the scene, don’t fade, don’t fade … Seven’s the number, Senator, I said. Fiscal problems come up seven, remember? Even for Joseph.… So she said, Mother, and I said me and she said cud was worth all that pain. But he still wouldn’t tell
.

Back away from me! Cat … cat … What’s the rest?

I simply refused, that was all. Chicken in a casket was a no good-a union like-a da cloak. Too dark in there. Chick in this town, chick in that town and in the country. Always having to break out of that pink-lined shell
.

No, not afraid after a while, but still against it. I was pretty little—little though not pretty, understand. Saw first snow in Kansas. The wind blows cold, but I can’t tuck it
.

Look, I have to climb out of here immediately, or the wires will flash Cudworth moos for Ma—a hell of a note from now on. And on the other side there’s the dark. Daddy Hic, hic, what day?

To hell with it, I’ve stood up too long to lie down
.

Lawd, Lawd, why?

Inevitable? Well, I suppose so. So focus in the scene. There, there. The Right Honorable Daddy—Where?

Karp! Karp, pan with the action—See! See! He’s riding right out from under his old Cordoba. But watch him, Stack wore a magic hat—Listen for a bulldog!

Beliss?

No! What do you know about that? I can’t hear him bark.…

Bliss be-eeee thee ti-ee that binds.…

CHAPTER 3

Forty-four in all, they were sitting in the Senate’s Visitors’ Gallery when Senator Sunraider arose to address the body. They sat in compact rows, their faces marked by that impassive expression which American Negroes often share with Orientals, watching the Senator with a remote concentration of their eyes. They barely moved while the Senator developed his argument, sitting like a row of dark statuary—until, during an aside, the Senator gave way to his obsession and made a quite gratuitous and mocking reference to their people.

It was then that a tall, elderly woman wearing steel-rimmed glasses arose from her chair and stood shaking with emotion, her eyes flashing. Twice she opened her mouth as though to hurl down some retort upon the head of the man holding forth below; but now the old preacher glimpsed her out of the corner of his eye, and, without turning from the scene below, gravely shook his head. For a second she ignored him, then feeling her still standing, he turned, giving her the full force of his gaze, and she reluctantly took her
seat, the muscles ridged out about her dark prognathous jaws as she bent forward, resting her elbows upon her knees, her hands tightly clasped, listening. But although a few whites departed, some angrily shaking their heads over the Senator’s remarks, others extending them embarrassed smiles, the rest made no sign. They seemed bound by some secret discipline, their faces remaining composed, their eyes remote as though through some mistake they were listening to a funeral oration for a stranger.

Nevertheless, Reverend Hickman was following the speech with close attention, his gaze playing over the orderly scene below as he tried to identify the men with their importance to the government. So this is where he came to rest, he thought. After all his rambling, this was the goal. Who would have imagined? At first, although he was familiar with his features from the newspapers, he had not recognized the Senator. The remarks, however, were unmistakable. These days, much to the embarrassment of his party and the citizens of his New England state, only Senator Sunraider (certain Southern senators were taken for granted) made such remarks, and Hickman watched him with deep fascination. He’s driven to it, Hickman thought, it’s so much with him that he probably couldn’t stop if he wanted to. He rejected his dedication and his set-asideness, but it’s still on him, it’s with him night and day.

“Reveren’ …” Sister Neal had touched his arm and he leaned toward her, still watching the scene.

“Reveren’,” she said, “is that him?”

“Yes, that’s him all right,” he said.

“Well, he sho don’t look much like his pictures.”

“It’s the distance. Up close, though, you’d recognize him.”

“I guess you right,” she said. “All those white folks down there don’t make him any more familiar either. It’s been so long I don’t recognize nothing about him now.”

“You will,” Hickman whispered. “You just watch—see there …”

“What?”

“The way he’s using his right hand. See how he gets his wrist into it?”

“Yeah, yeah!” she said. “And he would have his little white Bible in his other hand. Sure, I remember.”

“That’s right. See, I told you. Now watch this.…”

“Watch what?”

“There, there it goes. I could just see it coming—see the way he’s got his head back and tilted to the side?”

“Yeah—why, Reveren’, that’s
you!
He’s still doing you! Oh, my Lord,” he heard her moan, “still doing you after all these years and yet he can say all those mean things he says.…”

Hearing a catch in her voice, Hickman turned; she was softly crying.

“Don’t, Sister Neal,” he said. “This is just life; it’s not to be cried over, just understood.…”

“Yes, I know. But
seeing
him, Reveren’. I forgave him many times for everything, but seeing him
doing you
in front of all these people and humiliating us at the same time—I don’t know, it’s just too much.”

“He probably doesn’t know he’s doing it,” Hickman said. “Anyway, it’s just a gesture, something he picked up almost without knowing it. Like the way you can see somebody wearing his hat in a certain way and start to wearing yours the same way.”

BOOK: Juneteenth
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