Training Duke
As Told To Me By My Uncle Henry Cleage
Sometimes we would wake up and Uncle Hugh would be sitting on the porch. He wouldn’t say good-bye when he left. Mama’s family was just like that, they’d appear and then disappear without a word. We had a great big police dog, Duke. He was a bad sucker. Everybody in the city knew he was a bad dog.
So Uncle Hugh said “That dog ain’t worrying me.”
Uncle Hugh Marion Reed
You know, he used to come around the house in the back. We told him not to come in there, that dog would eat him up.
He said, “That dog ain’t gonna touch me.”
We said don’t mess with that dog. He just insisted. He walked out there to the little screened back porch. He walked out. Duke was standing there all ruffled up. He should have known, because Duke lifted that upper lip, you know? (Note: Here Henry would lift half of his upper lip and give a low, menacing growl) Duke backed up a couple of steps. Uncle Hugh kept by the door and he took the first step. The dog stood there and Uncle Hugh thought he had him and let the door slam and soon as that door slammed, Duke just leaped at his head. Uncle Hugh tore up the whole screen on the back door getting back inside. He was going to force the dog back and go out there and show him who’s boss. Well, he got back in because we all hollered at the dog and grabbed him and everything else, but we knew the dog.
Smoking all those cigarettes had got him, he said. He was going to pop off at any time, he didn’t think he ought to go through that excitement he would have had to go through to train him. “That is a bad dog,” he said. “That is a tough dog, he’s a smart dog too, but if I was here a couple days, I’d straighten that out.”
Well, he could have. If he’d been there a couple days, I mean.
Once again it’s time for the Annual IGene Awards when we look over our blog posts for the previous year and pick those we think are deserving of winning in one of five categories – Best Photograph, Best Screen Play, Best Documentary, Best Comedy and Best Biography. Before we start, I must thank my family for both their written contributions and their behind the scenes inspiration. Without further ado, here are my winners for this year.
For Best Photograph my mother once again stole the show, this time sharing the spotlight with my father in the photo My Parents About 1943 taken at the Meadows.
For Best Screen PlayHe Had Him Hidden Under the Floor, based on the story told to me by my cousin Jacqui about the daring rescue of a local black dentist from the angry mob of white men by her grandfather, Victor Tulane. It takes place around 1918 in Montgomery Alabama. The movie begins with dentist William Watkins flight from his house located 3 minutes away to the Tulane’s home. It’s dark and Aunt Willie and Naomi are already asleep as he’s ushered inside by Victor. Next we see the light shinning through the window, waking up the women. We see the mob come in and go through the search of the house and don’t know until after the mob leaves that indeed the dentist is there, hidden in a secret place under the floor. Of course Aunt Willie and Naomi are terrified without knowing that he’s in the house because after all, a mob is a mob and where it will end you never know. It ends with his ride to the train station under the produce and we see the train leaving the station with him on it and perhaps Victor Tulane heading back home down the still dark and lonely street, which is just beginning to wake up.
I called on my sister Pearl Cleage to cast my movie because she is a playwrite and knows about those things. Not to mention she watches movies and plays and knows who would work while I do not have a clue. From Pearl…
Okay here’s my cast. I think the way you laid out the movie was great, from the arrival of Dr. Watkins with the women being sent back to bed, through the mob search, through the ride to the train station and the farewell in the early hours of the morning. I can truly see the ending with Victor Tulane heading home in the dark. bravo. You get the Oscar for the screenplay. I get the one for casting:
Dr. William Watkins: Terrance Howard, currently being seen in “Red Tails,” where he plays one of the Tuskegee airmen. Nominated for an Oscar for “Hustle & Flow,” where he played the lead. He was also featured in “The Best Man,” and has appeared in many films, playing a variety of characters.
Victor Tulane: Idris Elba, a British actor of African descent who can do such a convincing American accent that when he first got famous in the USA for his role on “The Wire,” playing a Baltimore gangster, people were shocked to hear him on the talk shows speaking with his real accent, which is undeniably British. I’m sure he could do a perfect Alabama accent. He was wonderful in the Guy Ritchie film “RocknRolla,” and has been in many films and television series.
Willie Lee Tulane: Viola Davis, Oscar nominated star of “The Help,” Tony Award winning star of “Fences” on Broadway. Also known for her ten minute turn in the film “Doubt” where she played an anguished mother with amazing grace, truth and dignity. She would be able to bring the complexity required of the role of Mrs. Tulane, who has to remain calm in the face of terror she knows all too well.
Naomi Tulane Vincent: Phylea Rashad, daughter of actress Phylicia Rashad, who is currently featured in a critically praised role in the Broadway play, “Stickfly.” she also won critical acclaim for her role in Lynn Nottage pulitzer prize winning play, “Ruined.”
Klansman #1: Billy Bob Thorton, featured in films as different as “Monster’s Ball,” and “Pushing Tin.” A great actor with a great southern accent. He makes a great bad guy and could play the role of the klansman who comes to the door.
Klansman #2: Sean Penn, featured in many films, including “Milk,” where he played San Francisco activist Harvey Milk so realistically it was hard to watch him get killed at the end. Penn can also play a convincing bad guy and would be great walking through the house with Billy Bob.
Best Biography goes to “Growing Up – In Her Own Words” by Doris Graham Cleage for telling her own story. Last year she won the best biography with a story about her mother, Fannie Turner Graham.
And once again Henry Cleage walks away with Best Comedy for one of his short stories,“The Devilish Ghost”, written in his usual suave, wise cracking style. There is a special guest appearance by piano playing fool Slim Gaillard, also a Detroiter.
To read other igene offerings, click here. Thank you, Jasia, for once again hosting them. I enjoy writing and reading them.
Here is my Uncle Henry Cleage with his adoring mother, Pearl. Henry was born March 22, 1916, the third of my grandparents 7 children. He always told us his nickname was “Happy”. He looks pretty happy here. Henry grew up to be an attorney, a printer, an editor, a writer, a farmer and a philosopher. Not in that particular order. He lived until 1996, when he died from cancer.
Click the logo for more photographs of mother’s and children and other exciting subjects. –>
After writing about politics in my childhood yesterday, I remembered this interview I did with Henry in 1993 about the Freedom Now Party and decided to run it today. Scroll down for an easier to read transcription of the article. There are several corrections. Did I not fact check in those days?!
This article first appeared in 1993 in “Umoja * Unidad *Unity, A Newsletter for Homeschoolers of Color”
Our Stories
Freedom Now Party – 1963 – 1964
In the last several weeks black “leaders” have been speaking out against the treatment of Lani Guinier while at the same time saying they had to stick with the Democratic Party because “there’s nowhere else to go.” Aside from the obvious answer that they could go fishing and do the Race less harm, it brought to mind 1964, the year the Freedom Now Party got on the ballot in Michigan. I was a freshman at Wayne State University that year. The year before, the six children (Correction: 4 girls were killed, not 6) had been murdered during Sunday school in Birmingham, Alabama and over 100,000 had marched through downtown Detroit in protest. (Correction: the march took place before the bombing.) The March on Washington had taken place. The movement against the war in Vietnam was growing. That summer, one of the first riots had rocked New York and the Freedom Democrats from Mississippi were not seated at the Democratic Convention. Malcom X had spoken in Detroit at the Grass Roots Conference. Ossie Davis, James Baldwin, Odetta and others called for a boycott of Christmas gift buying to protest the violence in the south. Atty. Henry Cleage, along with family members and several friends had put out the Illustrated News for four years. It was a biweekly Black Nationalist paper that was distributed through churches, baber shops and other places black people gathered. Recently, I asked him to tell me about the founding of the Freedom Now Party.
Interview – Henry Cleage
Kristin: Henry, I’ve been trying to remember how the Freedom Now Party started.
Henry: Well, do you remember Worthy? William Worthy was in New York with those two brothers, I can’t remember their names, and they started talking about the Freedom Now Party. That was about the time the group in Detroit began to be black and quit trying to integrate. I remember sitting in my office talking about it. The question everyone had, you know, there weren’t enough Negroes to win. The answer that was being made by Rev. (Note: Rev. A.B. Cleage Jr.) was you can’t win anyway. The point was you could punish the Democratic Party. And that’s the way it started. Then they sent Worthy and those two brothers, they were all over New York hollering about freedom, they came and we started the Freedom Now Party.
The important thing about it, I think, was after all that, it was supposed to be nationwide, but Michigan was the only place it got on the ballot. Getting on the ballot in different states had different rules. In Michigan we had the Struther sisters and Boggs and one or two others. You had to get so many names from different counties – so they went up to the counties and got them. You know the way women will do, they just do stuff. And, of course, they had yours truly pointing out the laws and stuff – they did it and they got on the ballot. Of course they stole all our votes though.
Dunbar worked at the county building. He got drunk at one of the parties and he said, “If you knew what they did with your votes…!”
You know, the votes come in at night. It was on the radio. The Freedom Now Party had 40,000 votes. Next day, they didn’t have but about 200, you know.
He, Dunbar, said, “If you knew what happened to your votes, you would really be drugged!”
I said, “Well, you’re black, tell us what happened.”
“No, no, I’m not gonna mess up my job.” And, of course, he wouldn’t tell.
The FNP had challengers at the precinct, but Dunbar worked down at headquarters, at the Clerks office, where the votes would come in. I don’t know if we could have had somebody down there we didn’t. The votes came there from all over the state. There were Flint votes and Grand Rapids and…I remember that night they reported so many votes for the Freedom Now Party, on the radio, and we figured out that it was 5%, which means you get on the ballot next year without getting the petitions. The next morning they said we didn’t have 1/2 of a percent.
Kristin: Did the Freedom Now Party just go to pieces after that?
Henry: Yes. After that it generally fell to pieces. I think it finally dawned on everybody, like it dawned on me with the court case, we aren’t going to do anything quoting law here. Like Lani Guiner. She said something with a whole lot of sense to it, you know, and they act like she’s crazy.
It was a marvelous party. It had that nebulous, dreamlike quality that is so mellow. I was tripping daintily across the floor with this mellowness of aspect, when a small table sprang upon my person and bore me to the floor. It was pleasantly surprised to find that the lower level was as thickly populated and as chummy as the upper. George was lying right next to me.
“Isn’t it though” said George raising his head to look about.
“Everyone seems to be having a very enjoyable time,” I said.
“Except Snuffy,” said George pointing towards a neglected part of the establishment.
He was right. Snuffy was peering wildly out from behind some draperies.
He obviously wasn’t up to snuff.
“Soon as I rest up,” said George, “I’m gonna crawl over and see what’s up.” He leaned back, tucked a bottle under his head and closed his eyes.
“Allow me,” I said, “I’m rested.
It was a gloomy hole that Snuffy had wormed into. Separated from the larger room by draperies. It was dark and full of shadows. Snuffy was sitting on a couch near the opening so that he could keep an eye on the party. But his eyes had a haunted look, like they had seen too much. Of course I knew personally that they had been around plenty, his eyes I mean, but there was definitely more here than met the eye, speaking of eyes that is to say.
“I’ve got a ghost,” said Snuffy.
“Female?” I asked.
“But talented,” said Snuff looking at me with respect.
I must admit that I was pleased. One must be of a sensitive nature to delve into the mysteries with the nonchalance I had shown. One must have imagination and faith. Also one must have a particularly fine edge on.
“Behold,” said Snuff gesturing largely across the little room.
And there she was, a genuine ghost of absolutely the first water. She was sitting across the room drinking a mellowroony.
She was, as far as I could see, a luscious piece of plunder too. Of course it was all dark and shadows, but her robes and things were draped where they should be draped. It was quite a ghost gown too. Slit up one side about to her… It was beastly dark, as I say, and I couldn’t just say for sure. The gown was very form fitting though and the ghost had no less a fitting form. As a matter of fact, the tiny shaft of light that lay across that slit in her gown rested upon a limb that was surprisingly lifelike. But that cape gave her away. That was a ghost cape if I ever saw one.
Immediately I realized the dire potentialities of the situation. At a party like this where all is fellowship and noble sentiment, a ghost with a silted ghost gown has no place, especially if she also has a genuine ghost cape with a hood, yet. Snuffy and I must protect the party, or vice versa.
But I wasn’t happy. The party was showing admirable reserve strength as it swung into the stretch. A lovely thing was doing a picturesque number on top of the piano. Across the room George, apparently refreshed, was reaching great heights with his speech on fellowship. Louis was standing before an Italian mirror, in a Mexican Sombrero, reciting German poetry. And I was tied up, in a manner of speaking, with a ghost. Giving my all—understand—for the group.
To top it all, Snuffy was well in was well in his cups and having difficulty remaining awake. The ghost was not far behind, speaking of cups. I was desperate. That beautiful bit of talent on top of the piano needed me, I felt. I couldn’t place her but that gown fascinated me. A bit of ribbon here, a bit there and neither definitely here or there – understand.
I took desperate measures. I marched right up to the ghost.
“Pffft, disappear,” I intoned whilst making mysterious motions with my hands. Motions a ghost would understand, mind.
But she wasn’t having any. She offered me a drink of mellowroony, which I accepted with a certain dignity and toddled back to my seat.
I was about to descend into a quandary when a nudge from Snuffy rescued me. I looked up. Our ghost was upon us.
“She must not pass,” said Snuff.
The ghost had no intentions of passing. She fixed us with those eyes and slowly raised her arms.
In those ghost capes and hoods she presented a most disheartening picture. The room was full of darkness and despair with her just sitting there, but now it had gone hog wild. It was as if some giant vulture had come among us. As she hovered there she seemed to expand until she filled every corner of the room. I was about to give her more room by leaving, when she spoke.
“Pfffffft,” she said. She looked like the devil.
“Vamoose,” she hissed.
It was rather a nasty shock. Being uncertain as to the powers of ghosts filled with mellowroonys, I quickly looked to see if Snuffy was still one of us. He was and I was relieved. Snuffy seemed relieved too. We three looked at each other. An impasse seemed to be reached.
Our ghost took in her stride though. She sad down between us and cuddled up against my shoulder. Snuffy cuddled against hers. I was perturbed.
“Snuff,” I bellowed, thinking to keep him awake with conversation.
“Ummmm,” he replied.
“That girl on the piano with that gown, who is she?”
Snuffy and the ghost leaned forward to the opening and directed four beery eyes upon the piano and then fell back heavily to their former positions.
“Girl from the show,” said Snuff “George brung em.”
“Oh. And it ain’t no gown,” said Snuff fast loosing consciousness.
No?”
“It’s her costume, they didn’t change”.
“They?” I asked pointedly.
“Two girls,” he said heavily, “From a skit called Flesh and …” here Snuff gave it up. He snuggled close to the ghost and put that devilish cape over his head and began to snore softly.
“Flesh and what,” I shouted hoping to arouse him. But I was let alone with a ghost with a slit in her gown.
I was beat – in a quandary-frantic. This ghost was so permanent and so heavy. The way she was leaning on my shoulder it wouldn’t be long before she had overcome me with sheer weight. What to do? Would I have to scream for help?
I was interrupted from my fast approaching neurosis by a giggle erupting from my left ear.
“Flesh and the Devil,” my ghost confided in rare good humor.
“Didn’t you notice my devil’s costume?”
She held up that devilish cape.
*****
Henry wrote this story about 1943. I looked up the drink “Mellowroony” and came up with the song “Cement Mixer” which you can hear near the end of the clip below. I had never heard of Slim Gaillard before but I think his performance fits in with the story. And he grew up in Detroit.
While looking over Henry’s Diary 1936 post I realized that I had left out the last entries. I offer them here. The photographs are from the same time period in the little Black Album full of contact photos.
March 10 Nothing – home did find accounting problem. Brewer said three openings to Nacerema – invited me – Daddy not enthusiastic – social club, not for student at school – Brewer said that Alpha’s taking a batch – advised me to pay some on my back fees.
March 11 school & home –Rained – cold. tomorrowtwo tests Friday – history & accounting.
March 12 Found out from kid no test in History tomorrow, just in accounting. he had better be right- However I have studied History for a quiz (oral) tomorrow – I will study accounting during two vacants tomorrow – I hope Mama & Daddy have gone to Boulé “Keno” party -now about 1:00 a.m. going to bed.
Daddy and Mama
March 13Fri – after school (8:30) not enough money to go to the show, so I waited in Union till 7 o’clock class! Went over to Margret’s tonite – walked home with Elmo, Marion, Micky
March 14 had tooth treated – hair cut March 15 Went to shine meeting with Brewer, argument whether to get Laertes or Gloster for Dexus Desus – Laertes Everyone all bothered about going into fraternity. took car to Neil Hendersons tonight. took so long they were mad.
March 16 Went to show tonite and saw two good pictures – “Old Kentucky” Will Rodgers, Bill Robinson – & “Whipsaw” – Myrna Loy and Spencer Tracy
March 17 Hygiene class went to Risdon Creamery – again I collected fares. Nothing of import
March 18 Late for History Lecture. Tonite I went to show and saw “Man who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo” (Ronald Coleman) and “Remember Last Nite?” Robert Young. Met Winafred DeGrasse at show –
March 19 Hygiene class didn’t meet so I didn’t got to school till 2:30
March 20 Accounting class didn’t meet. I & Clark went up to do our geology lab work, but teacher had neglected to leave questions so came home with Clark. tonight started to show with Bill Mitches after my 7 – 9 class – changed my mind Paper due for English next week.
March 21 Sat. Done nothing but work on accounting all day – am supposed to go to alpha meeting tomorrow to answer some questions. Again at 3:00 o’clock all ? excited about being made – few will be made. I could if I had the entrance fee, I think.
March 25 My birthday – 20
Henry & Oscar Hand
June 14 Went to Carolyn’s house with Bassset in someone’s Model A Ford – and Gene (a boy from Carolina) Oscar went with us the first time But Carolyn wasn’t home- she left a note for me (see note) – came back on west side and let Oscar out, he was mad!!!!! went back to Carolyn’s (she was home) – Basset left and said he would come back for me- Carolyn and I became better acquainted… Basset came at about 11:15 and we came home. June 15 Went to Velma’s – and not sure whether or not we have a real date Sunday or not ??? – am supposed to have a date too with Nancy and Carolyn too-
I meant to have my tooth pulled today but decided to wait until after the St. Matthew’s Moonlight July 6. (I must learn to dance) and get some ? I got and get a job.
June 16 Nothing – had dentist fix a molar – said back Sat at 11 and he would fill it. Played ball and went to bed.
Toddy & Louis
June 20 Went to Carolyn’s – talked from 6 to 9:30 – some kids came over – Matthews, ?, Charlotte, etc -Toddy and Louis came over so I left – Went by Velma’s – we did have a date – she expected me.
June 21 Took Velma for a short ride – Mabel fixed it -!!
June 27 Went to Carolyn’s – me and Toddy took her and Clara ? & Wilberforce for a ride.-
Henry
August 29 Meadows Arrived at meadows at about 7:30 (getting dark) Had seen Velma before I left – I have her ring now – after had gotten our trunk in – we went down to creek – other’s brought some wood up and started a fire – I stayed down watching the creek and the farm – as it was dark they worried and came and got me. August 30 Meadows Sunday Richard’s club gave a picnic – we played ball off and on all day. Daddy came out and brought Bobby – wrote two letters – Velma and Carolyn. Bobby deliver them.
Last night when the others were in bed Morrow, George, Paul, Hugh and I sat around camp fire and sang – Nice but a little chilly (Benard’s parents came out)
August 31 Meadows After breakfast some of us went swimming – after that we all worked on a raft till dinner – chopped heavy logs from a fallen tree – tied together with grape vines and barrel wire – after dinner went & christened it “Frogy Bottom” & launched it – it immediately sank – logs were too heavy – were we mortified – the same group sat around the campfire again sang after dark.
September 1 Meadows “Gee! but I’m blue, and so lonely, I don’t know what to do, but dream of you!” (a song I like to sing out here)
Hugh fishing.
Boys are playing horse shoes just after dinner – we fished and swam today – George caught a pretty large bass and I, trying to throw him across river to Morocco – threw him in.
Illustration from Tom Brown’s School Days
I like to get on the hill and look down towards the creek in the evening and watch – The other nite I was there, Morocco, George, Hugh and Benard were chopping wood. Louis and Paul were sitting farther down the hill with their arms full of wood – It was almost nite – The faint light from the west gave the scene a surreal quality – The grass uneven, the rolling land, the giant trees, the creek, all outlined in this light and the boys too reminded me of an illustration in the book “Tom Browns School Days.”
As soon as I saw this weeks prompt for Sepia Saturday, I thought of this photograph. I decided to revisit an old post from Henry’s journal, written during several months of 1936, where he mentions playing the bass at a club.
January 11
Awoke to find that I had lost 2 dollars very depressed. Wrote on theme. Played tonight at Quinn’s Lone Pine with Duke Conte, played bass, terrible night. Fingers sore. Noticed how good-looking Lene is… Ought to throw a line – Police stopped us at about 1:00AM. No permit to play until two. I was glad. Very animal acting bunch in River Rouge. Most of them seem friendly though.
January 12
Played matinee dance at Elks rest with Heckes, Toddy and Bill – Dracee’s band came in and sat in awhile (no trouble) Kenneth was there. Too tired and sleepy to study history. Get up early tomorrow (no English) Toddy is going downtown to get some books is supposed to get me ‘American Tragedy” and ‘Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations”
January 13
Haliver Greene died this morning -spinal meningitis. Didn’t get up early to study History, however there was no class – lecture tomorrow so I won’t slide, tonight. Toddy bought back two books about lives of Educators (putrid!!) only 25 cents a piece though – awfully windy out today-not so cold thought – like March. I would like to have been in the country, wrapped up good, walking into the wind at the Meadows, down the road towards the sand pile or over the hill to the creek – zest, spice, life, health, clear eye, firm step and all that sort of thing.
January 14
Cold out this morning although it became somewhat spring like after school. Went to show after school. Another big fight this morning, I think they think I skip classes because I am sleepy, nonsense. Bought ‘Bartlett’s Quotations” $1.53. Seems worthwhile. Read one of dictator books – Good – tonight as I was going to the store the weather brought memories of spring. Roller-skating in street, if not roller skating then walking. Everybody walking and friendly. The crowd at Krueger’s and the tent. Perhaps riding through Belle isle – water, boats.
Before Jones placed the evidence before me, I was doing all right with my paper “The Gaylord Gazette.” I wasn’t getting rich, mind, but I was holding my own in a comfortable fashion. I was even approaching that beloved stage where a man can begin accumulating those little extra things, those cultural folderas of gracious living—like, for instance, a fireplace.I was going to put one in the front room of my building. There are two rooms altogether, a large room in the back for my press and linotype and a small room in the front for my desk and Jones’ desk. A rail runs across the front room separating our desks from the waiting room. The waiting room is for the public, people who drop in with a news item or a horsewhip for the editor. No one has horsewhipped me yet, so in gratitude I decided to put the fireplace along that south wall about where those two middle chairs are. Jones likes a fireplace too.
So you see, I was easing along pretty debonair. Gaylord was a comfortable little town. Not too big and full of news like some. That is until Jones uncovered that evidence.
Even though I am an old newspaperman of the old school, I was mortally shocked when the thing was brought out into the open. Of course you may say a newspaperman should be immune to shock, and that’s all right for you to say. But I am the one who has to rebuild his whole philosophy of life at my age.
Jones is my demon reporter. Kristin Jones is her full name but I just call her Jones on account of she is a good “newspaperman.” She is the product of the Gaylord public schools with four years of Vassar thrown in for confusion. She has a gigantic capacity for managing. When she returned from school she immediately looked for something to manage and I, sitting there, very comfortable in my snug little office must have appeared the easiest thing to get a grip on. Jones has a stranglehold on the Gazette now, but I jut can’t find it in my heart to complain. She manages with such a flair that it is good just to sit and watch her.
Jones is twenty-two and she has deep brown eyes and wavy brown hair which bounces on her shoulders. Sometimes, though, when she is turning out some deathless prose for a threatening deadline, she piles it up in a disheveled heap on top her lovely head and it is something, I’m telling you. And when she puts on her little derby hat and dashes out of the office with her big brown brief case, I have to chuckle. She is a journalist, she says. She says that is what they call it at school. She says the day of the sloppy reporter writing his story on the back of a grimy envelope is gone. The reporter has a responsible position and with this responsibility comes the necessity for dignity—and a briefcase.
I say “O.K.” I am too old to argue with youth. Why I have been out of State University nine years! I’m going on thirty-two. But when I was in school, I always wanted to be one of those slick newspaper guys with a cigarette and chewing gum. But like I said, we older folk have got to step aside and let the young folk have a say. We had our chance. Besides I am an owner, publisher, editor and reporter so I got to be a little bit pompous and such.
But don’t mention these sentiments to Jones anymore. I used to and she would get mad for some reason or other. Like once she was trying to make me start a readers’ survey.
“What’s that?” I asked at a complete loss.
“A survey,” she said patiently, “to determine your readers’ preference in reading material.”
“Oh,” I said, “I know all about what they prefer.”
“Why don’t you print it then?”
She was getting a bit pointed here, I thought.
“Too much of that stuff ain’t good for them,” I said innocent as a lamb.’’ Well she certainly laid me out. And she was right too. What right had I to assume to know my readers’ taste and then on top of that to decide whether it is good for them yet.
“O.K., O.K., “ I interrupted when she stopped to inhale. “You are right. It’s just another new idea an old man like me never heard of. Thanks for bringing it up.”I leaned back in my chair like I wasn’t long for this world.
“I appreciate your teaching me these new, youthful methods,” I added. I sort of groaned like my hardening arteries were hurting. For some reason this seemed to irritate Jones, but she controlled herself. “Just what is it your readers prefer but you feel is too rich for their blood?” Jones asked, obviously changing the subject back to the point. “Comics,” I admitted. Jones slapped her derby back on her head and switched out. She forgot her briefcase. I wondered what I’d said wrong.
So you can plainly see why I steer clear of the “youth question” now. Anyway I am busy putting out a paper, and it is getting harder all the time. I’ve been so restless lately. Some days I have the awfullest time concentrating on the “Notices of Auction Sales.” I go through the “Marriage Announcements” like sixty though.
And in the evening when the breeze is soft and the quiet is dark and full of shadows, I find my usual pastimes are boring me. Last night, for instance, I walked out on the poker game at the firehouse and went for a walk. I take a lot of walks lately. Oh it’s rugged all right! And now on top of all, Jones has got that evidence.
She had been mentioning, for weeks, that her evidence was almost complete and she said I would be proud of her good work when she “exposed” the culprit. I wondered who it was. I hoped it wasn’t anyone I knew. I found out Tuesday afternoon.
I was just getting comfortable when Jones came in. My feet were nicely balanced in the top drawer of my desk and a soft clover hayish wind was nuzzling my neck. Two little flies were buzzing against the screen—buzz—buzz-buz-bu—b. I had only just closed my eyes for a mere second when she rudely flung my feet from their comfortable position and into the wastebasket. I felt trapped!
She had on a green sweater and a skirt. I don’t know what color her skirt was but it was a green sweater. It had little pockets on each side and a pin was stuck on the left pocket.
“Well,” she said looking at me with those eyes, “have you got to the nerve to see my evidence.”
“Do it take nerve?” I asked in a veritable chaos of confusion.She reached deep down in her briefcase and drew out a nickel notebook. She fixed me with a narrowed pair of eyes.
” June 19—“ she began, but something forced me to speak.“Jones, my dear,” but she raised a hand for silence.
“Because, said Jones, “the evidence concerns you and your walks and things.”
“I haven’t got the nerve,” I sobbed, “take it away.”
“On one condition,” she said.
“Anything,” I pleaded.
So now we are married and Jones manages me and the Gazette legally. I wonder why she never asked me in for a dish of tea when I was walking by her house all those times.
