Part 8 (1/2)

Dr. Harrison answered my ring. He was dressed in a brown flannel smoking jacket with a black velvet collar. He waved a soggy cigar b.u.t.t in his left hand, stuck out his right.

'h.e.l.lo, Robert, it's good to see you, boy.'

We shook hands; his felt dry, lifeless, and his mouth looked nasty. I said, 'It's good to see you, Doctor.'

He closed the door behind me and steered me into his study.

'You're just in time to join me in a nip.'

'Well, thanks,' I said. I always felt a sharp sense of embarra.s.sment around him. I didn't like him, didn't respect him, didn't have anything to say to him, didn't like to listen to him. But he always cornered me off for a conversation and I didn't know how to get out of it short of blasting him one.

He went over to his bar. 'What'll it be, Scotch?'

'Scotch is fine,' I said. 'A little water.'

'A gentleman's drink,' he said, mixing it. 'Now I prefer rye.' Then he noticed I was standing and said: 'Sit down, sit down. As Bertha says, ”We're all coloured folks.” You know Bertha Gowing, head of the South Side Clinic?'

'No, I don't,' I said, taking the drink and sitting down.

'A fine person, charming personality, very capable, very capable,' he said, returning to his easy chair across from me. He waved at the Pittsburgh _Courier_ on the floor. 'I was just reading about our fighter pilots in Italy; they're achieving a remarkable record.'

I said, 'That's right.'

'Makes the old man wish he was young again,' he went on. 'Think of it, the first time in the history of our nation that Negro boys have served as pilots. We can thank Roosevelt for that.'

'That's right,' I said. My mind was on Alice. I wondered how she was going to react to seeing me.

'The n.a.z.i pilots say they'd rather engage any two white pilots than one of our Negro boys,' he said.

'Yeah, they're some tough customers,' I said.

'I was talking to Blakely the other day, and he said we should send them a cablegram saying, ”The eyes of the world are on you.” You know Blakely Moore, the young attorney who fought that restricted covenant case for the Du Barrys?'

'No, I don't,' I said.

'Bright young man,' he said. 'Has a wonderful future. I attended his birth.' He took a sip of rye. 'Well, how is your work progressing, Robert? I understand you have been made a supervisor.'

I stole a look at him, looked away. 'Well, not exactly a supervisor. I'm what they call a leaderman.'

'A leaderman, eh? I'm always intrigued by the t.i.tles applied to industrial workers. Now what is a leaderman?'

'I just have charge of a small crew of workers,' I said.

'But you're in authority?' he insisted.

'Well . . .' To h.e.l.l with trying to explain it, I thought, and said, 'Yes.'

'That's what I like to see,' he said. 'Our Negro boys in authority. It proves that we can do it if we are given the Opportunity.'

A little bit of that went a long way. 'How's everything with you, Doctor?' I asked, changing the conversation. My vocal cords were getting tight.

'I keep pretty busy,' he chuckled. 'Walter and I were just talking the other day about the tremendous change that's taken place in Los Angeles--'

'Yes, it has,' I cut in rapidly. 'The city's really growing up.' If he asked me if I knew Walter Somebody-or-other I was subject to tell him to go to h.e.l.l. 'Is Alice in?' I asked before he could get it out.

'I'll see,' he said, getting up. 'You know, this house is so arranged we can go for days without running into each other.' He went into the hallway and called, 'Alice!'

After a moment she replied from upstairs, 'Yes?'

'Robert is here.'

'Oh!' A pause. Then, 'Tell him to come right up.'

He turned to me. 'You can go right up, Robert.'

'Thanks,' I said.

He stopped me to shake hands again. 'It was nice seeing you, Robert.' He always made it a point to let me know he didn't have anything against me, even if I didn't belong to his cla.s.s.

'It was nice seeing you too, Doctor,' I said.

Alice was waiting for me at the head of the spiral stairway. 'How are you, dear?' she greeted. Her cool contralto voice was under wraps and her eyes were controlled. She wore a scarlet velvet housecoat and her cheeks were slightly rouged. I couldn't help but think she was a regal-looking chick.

”Lo, baby,' I said, kissing at her.

She dodged. 'Don't!'

'All right, if that's the way--' I broke it off, looking beyond her into the sitting room. 'G.o.dd.a.m.n, you've got company,' I accused. I was ready to turn and go.

But she said quickly, 'Oh, you'll like them,' took me by the hand and led' me into her sitting-room.

It was a large pleasant room with a love seat and three armchairs done in flowered chintz. There were white scatter rugs on the polished oak floor and white organdie curtains at the double windows facing the street. Her bedroom was to the rear.

'You know Polly Johnson,' she said, and I said, 'h.e.l.lo, Polly,' to a sharp-faced, bright yellow woman with a mannish haircut, dressed in a green slack suit.

'Hi, Bob, how's tricks?' she said around her cigarette.

'And Arline,' Alice went on. 'Arline Wilson.'

'h.e.l.lo, Arline,' I said. She was a big sloppy dame in a wrinkled print dress with her black hair pulled tight in a knot at the back of her head, giving her a surprised, sweaty look. I imagine she thought it made her look childish. She was a schoolteacher.

'Here's that man again,' she said. I gave her a quick, startled look; she was too old for that, I thought.

'And this is Cleotine Dobbs,' Alice said of the third dame. 'Miss Dobbs, Mr. Jones.'

I shook hands with her. 'How do you do, Miss Dobbs.'

She was a long, angular, dark woman dressed in an Eastern suit. She was strictly out of place in that light bright clique.

'Cleo has just come to our city to direct the Downtown Settlement House,' Alice said sweetly. 'She's a Chicago gal.'