“What’s wrong? Everything seems to me to be getting along as well as can be expected.”
“That’s because you don’t go out of the house unless you are hurrying to give somebody a pill or a dose of medicine. Today I came by the school to get Mamie and bring her home. You ought to see the dump they call a school building. It’s a dirty old building that looks like it’ll fall down any time a hard wind comes along. All that’s inside is a rickety table, and some hard benches with no desks, and when it rains they have to send the children home, as the water stands two or three inches deep on the floor. Outside of Mamie they haven’t one teacher who’s gone any higher than the sixth or seventh grade—they have to take anybody who is willing to work for the twelve dollars a month they pay coloured teachers.”
Bob’s face had on it the look of discontent and resentment that was almost growing chronic.
“Well, what can we do about it? I’m afraid you’re getting to be a regular Atlas, trying to carry all the burdens of the world on your shoulders. I know things aren’t all they ought to be, but you and I can’t solve the problems. The race problem will be here long after we’re dead and gone.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, shut up that preachy tone of long-suffering patience, will you?—and forget your own little interests for a while. I know you think I’m silly to let these things worry me. But the reason why things are as bad as they are is just because the majority of Negroes are like you—always dodging anything that may make them unpopular with white folks. And that isn’t all. There’s a gang of white boys that hang around Ewing’s Store that meddle with every coloured girl that goes by. I was in the store today when Minnie Baxter passed by on her way to the post office, and that dirty little Jim Archer said something that made me boil all over. And it didn’t help any to know that if I had said a word to him, there would have been a fight, and I would have been beaten half to death if I hadn’t been killed.”
“Yes, I’ve seen that, too. What we ought to do is to try and keep these girls off of Lee Street, unless someone is with them. If we weren’t living in the South, we might do something. But here we are, and as long as we stay here, we’ve got to swallow a lot of these things and stay to ourselves.”
“But, Ken, it isn’t always convenient for someone to go downtown with them. I’ll tell you what let’s do. Let’s get the better class of coloured people together like Reverend Wilson, Mr. Graham, Mr. Adams, and some others, and form a Coloured Protective League here in Central City. We can then take up these cases and see if something can’t be done to remedy them.”
Bob leaned forward in his eagerness to impress Kenneth with his idea.
“You see, if any one or two of us takes up a case we are marked men. But if there are two or three hundred of us they can’t take it out on all of us.”
“That’s true. But what about the effect on the white people whose actions you want to check? If Negroes start organizing for any purpose whatever, there’ll always be folks who’ll declare they are planning to start some trouble. No, I don’t think we ought to do anything just now. I tell you what I’ll do. The next time I see Roy Ewing, I’ll speak to him and ask him to stop those fellows from annoying our girls, The fellows can take care of themselves.”
Bob rose and shrugged his shoulders and said nothing more. Kenneth after a minute or two returned to his book.
Nothing further was said on the subject for several days. When Mr. Ewing called the following week, Kenneth brought the matter up, and told him what Bob had said about the boys in front of Ewing’s store.
“I’ve seen them doing it, Ken, and I spoke to them only today about it. But you know, boys will be boys, and they haven’t done any harm to the girls. Their talk is a little rough at times, but as long as it stops there, I don’t see why anybody should object.”
“But, Mr. Ewing, Bob tells me that they say some pretty raw things. Suppose one of them said the same things to Mrs. Ewing, how would you feel then?”
Ewing flushed.
“That’s different. Mrs. Ewing is a white woman.”
“But can’t you see that we feel towards our women just as you do towards yours? If one of those fellows ever spoke to my sister, there’s be trouble, and the Lord knows I want to get along with all the people here, if I can. If this thing called democracy that I helped fight for is worth anything at all, it ought to mean that we coloured people should be protected like anybody else.”
Mr. Ewing looked at Kenneth sharply.
“I know that things aren’t altogether as they ought to be. It’s pretty tough on fellows like you, Ken, who have had an education. While you were away, a bunch of these mill hands ’cross the tracks got Jerry Bird, a nigger that’d been working for me nearly five years. He came here from down the country some place after you left for up North. Jerry was as steady a fellow as I’ve ever seen—as honest as the day was long. I trusted Jerry anywhere, lots quicker than I would’ve some of these white people ’round here. He had a black skin but his heart was white. One night Jerry was over to my house helping Mrs. Ewing until nearly ten o’clock. On his way home this bunch of roughnecks from ‘Factoryville’ stopped him while they were looking for a nigger that’d scared a
