windar
Teller of Tales
13
“It was really nice of your grandfather to lend us his truck,” Jerry said.
“It sure was,” Alvin replied. With transportation available, they had been able to revisit the houses whose cards had been destroyed by Bill-Bob and his gang of Klansmen plus acquire a couple of dozen more in rural areas that they would have had a very difficult time reaching on foot.
They had dropped the cards at the County Election Office in the center of Kilmartin. The clerk, a sour-looking woman approaching sixty, had looked quite perturbed at having to accept them, but accept them she did.
“And it was really nice of him to lend us his shotgun,” Jerry continued, fingering the long barrel that lay across his knees. “Though we didn’t see any signs of those creeps today.”
“Yeah,” Alvin replied. “I wonder where they are. Off burning a cross somewhere or something?”
“You ever fire a gun?” Jerry asked.
“Yeah, that very one, my friend. I’ve been out huntin’ with Gramps a few times visitin’ down here. What about you?”
“Nope, never,” jerry said. “I’m a peace lovin’ sort myself. I don’t know what I’d do if things heat up there in Vietnam and they try to draft me.”
“I ain’t goin’,” Alvin said. “No how, no way. But I don’t think we have to worry as long as we stay in school.”
“Your Grandpa ever have to use this shotgun against the Klan or any other troublemakers?” Jerry asked.
“Thankfully, no,” Alvin replied. “Though I know he wouldn’t hesitate to kill one of those motherfuckers if it came to that. My Dad was always trying to get him and Grandma to come and join us up in New York, but that land has been in the family since not long after the end of slavery and he couldn’t bear to leave it. Now, they feel they’re too old to uproot themselves.”
“How did your Dad end up in New York?”
“He was mustered out of Fort Dix, New jersey after the war, took the train up there, met my Mom at a dance in Harlem and the rest is history as they say. Got a job doin’ roadwork for the City and never looked back.”
“Well, I’m glad of that,” Jerry replied. “If he’d come back here, we probably would never have met.”
Alvin nodded. They were passing a green lawn with tree-lined paths winding amongst brick buildings. “Hey, this must be the College, Kilmartin Academy. What say you we stop and have a look around?”
“I hear they don’t like your sort here, Alvin. Probably not mine either.”
“I’m not planning to transfer from the Ivy League to this ass wipe little college, my friend. Just want to have a look around.” He pulled into a parking space under a large oak tree. “Better stash that bad boy under the seat.” Jerry carefully placed the shotgun under the seat, out of sight to any passersby.
They got out and started walking towards one of the larger buildings. As they got nearer the more traveled area, they encountered two male students who deliberately moved to the center of the path to block their way.
“Excuse us,“ Jerry said.
“Where are you two headin’?”
“Just lookin’ around,” Alvin replied.
“”There ain’t much to see here,” one of them said.
“If you’re thinkin’ of applyin’ here, don’t bother. One of you in this school is one too many,” the other added.
“We’re not interested in attending your school,” Jerry said, hoping to keep Alvin from starting a fight. “We already attend college in New York.”
“Yeah, maybe you’ve heard of Columbia,” Alvin added.
“Listen to him,” the other student said, shaking his head.
“It’s true,” Jerry said. “You wanna’ see our student IDs?” He started reaching into his pocket.
“Oh, fuck, who cares?” the first student said, stepping aside. “Go have your look around and then get lost, OK?”
They continued on towards the main building, which, the sign above the portico indicated, was Administration.
Suddenly, Alvin froze in his tracks. “It’s her!” he whispered.
“Who?” Jerry asked, looking puzzled.
“The one of my sisters that this rinky-dink place decided to let in so they could pretend to be integrated.” He pointed to a very nice looking Negro girl walking with a white woman who looked a bit too mature to be a student. He started walking quickly so as to intercept them before they mounted the stairs to the building. Jerry hurried to catch up.
Smiling broadly, Alvin greeted Harriet. “Imagine running into a sister at a place like this. Alvin Washington’s the name” he said, extending his hand. “From New York City.”
Harriet smiled back at him and shook his hand, obviously pleased to see another Black person on the campus. “Harriet Jackson, from Atlanta. And this is Professor Barbara Moore,” she added.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Washington,” Barb said.
“And this,” Alvin said, indicating Jerry who had arrived on the scene just a touch out of breath, “Is my buddy Jerry Goldman, also of NYC.”
“Pleased to meet you, “Jerry said.
“You’re not thinking of applying to the Academy are you?” Barbara asked, sounding hopeful. Nothing would be better for Harriet than to have a fellow Black student on campus.
“No,” Jerry replied. “We’re both happily enrolled at Columbia. We’re taking a semester off to come down here and register voters.” He reached into his jeans pocket for a couple of voter cards. “You wouldn’t happen to be eligible to vote, Miss Jackson?”
“I’m sorry, I’m only 18, but I promise you, the very day I turn 21. I’ll be registering here or in Atlanta or wherever I might be,” Harriet replied.
“I’ll take one, though,” Barbara said. “I’m registered up in Minnesota, but, I’ve been meaning to transfer it down here.” Jerry handed her a card.
“Listen,” Barbara continued, “We’re late for our ride, but, we’d love to talk further with you guys. You may have seen the posters for the Highland Festival this coming weekend?”
“Yeah, We saw ‘em” Alvin said.
“Well, we’re going to go and you should join us,” Barbara said.
“With all due respect, Professor Moore, I don’t look Scottish and I don’t think Harriet does either.”
“I don’t know if I look Scottish,” Jerry added, “but I’m pretty sure I’m not.”
“It doesn’t matter; the Festival should be for everyone. And please, call me Barbara.”
“You’re probably new down here,” Alvin said, “But that isn’t how things work.”
“Well, it’s time things changed. Meet us at the west gate of the campus at eight on Saturday. We’ll walk over there together. Now we really do have to run.”
Billy-Bob drained the bottle of Bourbon and tossed the empty onto the floor. It made a satisfying “Clunk!” “Goddamn nigger-lovin’ Yankee bitch got me fired!” he exclaimed.
“I thought it was the Dean fired you?” one of his fellow Knights said.
“Yeah, Pete, but it wouldn’t have happened if that goddamn Moore woman had stayed up there in goddamn Minnesota.”
“Look, I’m sorry I showed that picture around, Billy-Bob,” another man said. “I know you said to keep it to myself, but it was just too juicy not to share. Them two lesbians was goin’ at it like bunny rabbits. I never seen nothin’ like it.”
“What’s done is done, Abner. But I swear I’ll see them two swingin’ from a tree after a damn good whippin’. And that Alvin Washington boy and his friend Goldstein, too. We got to defend our way of life, right men?”
“Right!” they all yelled.
“But we gotta be smart about it. Too many Feds around lookin’ to bust us. We bide our time, wait for the right opportunity to present itself and then we strike. Like Lee at Gettysburg.”
“I thought Lee lost at Gettysburg,” Rusty said.
“Nah, he just made a whatchamacall ‘strategic retreat’, Rusty. The South will rise again!” he shouted to wild cheers.
“It was really nice of your grandfather to lend us his truck,” Jerry said.
“It sure was,” Alvin replied. With transportation available, they had been able to revisit the houses whose cards had been destroyed by Bill-Bob and his gang of Klansmen plus acquire a couple of dozen more in rural areas that they would have had a very difficult time reaching on foot.
They had dropped the cards at the County Election Office in the center of Kilmartin. The clerk, a sour-looking woman approaching sixty, had looked quite perturbed at having to accept them, but accept them she did.
“And it was really nice of him to lend us his shotgun,” Jerry continued, fingering the long barrel that lay across his knees. “Though we didn’t see any signs of those creeps today.”
“Yeah,” Alvin replied. “I wonder where they are. Off burning a cross somewhere or something?”
“You ever fire a gun?” Jerry asked.
“Yeah, that very one, my friend. I’ve been out huntin’ with Gramps a few times visitin’ down here. What about you?”
“Nope, never,” jerry said. “I’m a peace lovin’ sort myself. I don’t know what I’d do if things heat up there in Vietnam and they try to draft me.”
“I ain’t goin’,” Alvin said. “No how, no way. But I don’t think we have to worry as long as we stay in school.”
“Your Grandpa ever have to use this shotgun against the Klan or any other troublemakers?” Jerry asked.
“Thankfully, no,” Alvin replied. “Though I know he wouldn’t hesitate to kill one of those motherfuckers if it came to that. My Dad was always trying to get him and Grandma to come and join us up in New York, but that land has been in the family since not long after the end of slavery and he couldn’t bear to leave it. Now, they feel they’re too old to uproot themselves.”
“How did your Dad end up in New York?”
“He was mustered out of Fort Dix, New jersey after the war, took the train up there, met my Mom at a dance in Harlem and the rest is history as they say. Got a job doin’ roadwork for the City and never looked back.”
“Well, I’m glad of that,” Jerry replied. “If he’d come back here, we probably would never have met.”
Alvin nodded. They were passing a green lawn with tree-lined paths winding amongst brick buildings. “Hey, this must be the College, Kilmartin Academy. What say you we stop and have a look around?”
“I hear they don’t like your sort here, Alvin. Probably not mine either.”
“I’m not planning to transfer from the Ivy League to this ass wipe little college, my friend. Just want to have a look around.” He pulled into a parking space under a large oak tree. “Better stash that bad boy under the seat.” Jerry carefully placed the shotgun under the seat, out of sight to any passersby.
They got out and started walking towards one of the larger buildings. As they got nearer the more traveled area, they encountered two male students who deliberately moved to the center of the path to block their way.
“Excuse us,“ Jerry said.
“Where are you two headin’?”
“Just lookin’ around,” Alvin replied.
“”There ain’t much to see here,” one of them said.
“If you’re thinkin’ of applyin’ here, don’t bother. One of you in this school is one too many,” the other added.
“We’re not interested in attending your school,” Jerry said, hoping to keep Alvin from starting a fight. “We already attend college in New York.”
“Yeah, maybe you’ve heard of Columbia,” Alvin added.
“Listen to him,” the other student said, shaking his head.
“It’s true,” Jerry said. “You wanna’ see our student IDs?” He started reaching into his pocket.
“Oh, fuck, who cares?” the first student said, stepping aside. “Go have your look around and then get lost, OK?”
They continued on towards the main building, which, the sign above the portico indicated, was Administration.
Suddenly, Alvin froze in his tracks. “It’s her!” he whispered.
“Who?” Jerry asked, looking puzzled.
“The one of my sisters that this rinky-dink place decided to let in so they could pretend to be integrated.” He pointed to a very nice looking Negro girl walking with a white woman who looked a bit too mature to be a student. He started walking quickly so as to intercept them before they mounted the stairs to the building. Jerry hurried to catch up.
Smiling broadly, Alvin greeted Harriet. “Imagine running into a sister at a place like this. Alvin Washington’s the name” he said, extending his hand. “From New York City.”
Harriet smiled back at him and shook his hand, obviously pleased to see another Black person on the campus. “Harriet Jackson, from Atlanta. And this is Professor Barbara Moore,” she added.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Washington,” Barb said.
“And this,” Alvin said, indicating Jerry who had arrived on the scene just a touch out of breath, “Is my buddy Jerry Goldman, also of NYC.”
“Pleased to meet you, “Jerry said.
“You’re not thinking of applying to the Academy are you?” Barbara asked, sounding hopeful. Nothing would be better for Harriet than to have a fellow Black student on campus.
“No,” Jerry replied. “We’re both happily enrolled at Columbia. We’re taking a semester off to come down here and register voters.” He reached into his jeans pocket for a couple of voter cards. “You wouldn’t happen to be eligible to vote, Miss Jackson?”
“I’m sorry, I’m only 18, but I promise you, the very day I turn 21. I’ll be registering here or in Atlanta or wherever I might be,” Harriet replied.
“I’ll take one, though,” Barbara said. “I’m registered up in Minnesota, but, I’ve been meaning to transfer it down here.” Jerry handed her a card.
“Listen,” Barbara continued, “We’re late for our ride, but, we’d love to talk further with you guys. You may have seen the posters for the Highland Festival this coming weekend?”
“Yeah, We saw ‘em” Alvin said.
“Well, we’re going to go and you should join us,” Barbara said.
“With all due respect, Professor Moore, I don’t look Scottish and I don’t think Harriet does either.”
“I don’t know if I look Scottish,” Jerry added, “but I’m pretty sure I’m not.”
“It doesn’t matter; the Festival should be for everyone. And please, call me Barbara.”
“You’re probably new down here,” Alvin said, “But that isn’t how things work.”
“Well, it’s time things changed. Meet us at the west gate of the campus at eight on Saturday. We’ll walk over there together. Now we really do have to run.”
***
Billy-Bob drained the bottle of Bourbon and tossed the empty onto the floor. It made a satisfying “Clunk!” “Goddamn nigger-lovin’ Yankee bitch got me fired!” he exclaimed.
“I thought it was the Dean fired you?” one of his fellow Knights said.
“Yeah, Pete, but it wouldn’t have happened if that goddamn Moore woman had stayed up there in goddamn Minnesota.”
“Look, I’m sorry I showed that picture around, Billy-Bob,” another man said. “I know you said to keep it to myself, but it was just too juicy not to share. Them two lesbians was goin’ at it like bunny rabbits. I never seen nothin’ like it.”
“What’s done is done, Abner. But I swear I’ll see them two swingin’ from a tree after a damn good whippin’. And that Alvin Washington boy and his friend Goldstein, too. We got to defend our way of life, right men?”
“Right!” they all yelled.
“But we gotta be smart about it. Too many Feds around lookin’ to bust us. We bide our time, wait for the right opportunity to present itself and then we strike. Like Lee at Gettysburg.”
“I thought Lee lost at Gettysburg,” Rusty said.
“Nah, he just made a whatchamacall ‘strategic retreat’, Rusty. The South will rise again!” he shouted to wild cheers.
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