Invisible Man (48 page)

“So that actually happened,” I said.

“Sure did. That Brother Clifton goes wild when he gits mad … But what do you think of my idea?”

“I think it should be brought to the attention of the committee,” I said guardedly, as the phone rang. “Excuse me a moment, Brother,” I said.

It was the editor of a new picture magazine requesting an interview of “one of our most successful young men.”

“That’s very flattering,” I said, “but I’m afraid I’m too busy for an interview. I suggest, however, that you interview our youth leader, Brother Tod Clifton; you’ll find him a much more interesting subject.”

“No, no!” Wrestrum said, shaking his head violently as the editor said, “But we want you. You’ve—”

“And you know,” I interrupted, “our work is considered very controversial, certainly by some.”

“That’s exactly why we want you. You’ve become identified with that controversy and it’s our job to bring such subjects to the eyes of our readers.”

“But so has Brother Clifton,” I said.

“No, sir; you’re the man and you owe it to our youth to allow us to tell them your story,” he said, as I watched Brother Wrestrum leaning forward. “We feel that they should be encouraged to keep fighting toward success. After all, you’re one of the latest to fight his way to the top. We need all the heroes we can get.”

“But, please,” I laughed over the phone, “I’m no hero and I’m far from the top; I’m a cog in a machine. We here in the Brotherhood work as a unit,” I said, seeing Brother Wrestrum nod his head in agreement.

“But you can’t get around the fact that you’re the first of our people to attract attention to it, can you now?”

“Brother Clifton was active at least three years before me. Besides, it isn’t that simple. Individuals don’t count for much; it’s what the group wants, what the group does. Everyone here submerges his personal ambitions for the common achievement.”

“Good! That’s very good. People want to hear that. Our people need to have someone say that to them. Why don’t you let me send out an interviewer? I’ll have her there in twenty minutes.”

“You’re very insistent, but I’m very busy,” I said.

And if Brother Wrestrum hadn’t been wig-wagging, trying to tell me what to say I would have refused. Instead, I consented. Perhaps, I thought, a little friendly publicity wouldn’t hurt. Such a magazine would reach many timid souls living far from the sound of our voices. I had only to remember to say little about my past.

“I’m sorry for this interruption, Brother,” I said, putting down the phone and looking into his curious eyes. “I’ll bring your idea to the attention of the committee as quickly as possible.”

I stood to discourage further talk and he got up, fairly bursting to continue.

“Well, I’ve got to see some other brothers myself,” he said. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Anytime,” I said, avoiding his hand by picking up some papers.

Going out, he turned with his hand on the door frame, frowning. “And, Brother, don’t forget what I said about that thing you got on your desk. Things like that don’t do nothin’ but cause confusion. They ought to be kept out of sight.”

I was glad to see him go. The idea of his trying to tell me what to say in a conversation only part of which he could have heard! And it was obvious that he disliked Clifton. Well, I disliked
him.
And all that foolishness and fear over the leg chain. Tarp had worn it for nineteen years and could laugh, but this big-

Then I forgot Brother Wrestrum until about two weeks later at our downtown headquarters, where a meeting had been called to discuss strategy.

E
VERYONE
had arrived before me. Long benches were arranged at one side of the room, which was hot and filled with smoke. Usually such meetings sounded like a prizefight or a smoker, but now everyone was silent. The white brothers looked uncomfortable and some of the Harlem brothers belligerent. Nor did they leave me time to think about it. No sooner had I apologized for my lateness than Brother Jack struck the table with his gavel, addressing his first remarks to me.

“Brother, there seems to be a serious misunderstanding among some of the brothers concerning your work and recent conduct,” he said.

I stared at him blankly, my mind groping for connections. “I’m sorry, Brother Jack,” I said, “but I don’t understand. You mean there’s something wrong with my work?”

“So it seems,” he said, his face completely neutral. “Certain charges have just been made …”

“Charges? Have I failed to carry out some directive?”

“About that there seems to be some doubt. But we’d better let Brother Wrestrum speak of this,” he said.

“Brother Wrestrum!”

I was shocked. He hadn’t been around since our talk, and I looked across the table into his evasive face, seeing him stand with a slouch, a rolled paper protruding from his pocket.

“Yes, Brothers,” he said, “I brought charges, much as I hated to have to do it. But I been watching the way things have been going and I’ve decided that if they don’t stop
soon
, this brother is going to make a fool out of the Brotherhood!”

There were some sounds of protest.

“Yes, I said it and I mean it! This here brother constitutes one of the greatest dangers ever confronted by our movement.”

I looked at Brother Jack; his eyes were sparkling. I seemed to see traces of a smile as he scribbled something on a pad. I was becoming very hot.

“Be more specific, Brother,” Brother Garnett, a white brother, said. “These are serious charges and we all know that the brother’s work has been splendid. Be specific.”

“Sho, I’ll be specific,” Wrestrum boomed, suddenly whipping the paper from his pocket, unrolling it and throwing it on the table. “This here’s what I mean!”

I took a step forward; it was a portrait of me looking out from a magazine page.

“Where did that come from?” I said.

“That’s it,” he boomed. “Make out like you never seen it.”

“But I haven’t,” I said. “I really haven’t.”

“Don’t lie to these white brothers. Don’t lie!”

“I’m not lying. I never saw it before in my life. But suppose I had, what’s wrong with it?”

“You know what’s wrong!” Wrestrum said.

“Look, I don’t know anything. What’s on your mind? You have us all here, so if you have anything to say, please get it over with.”

“Brothers, this man is a—a—opportunist! All you got to do is read this article to see. I charge this man with using the Brotherhood movement to advance his own selfish interests.”

“Article?” Then I remembered the interview which I had forgotten. I met the eyes of the others as they looked from me to Wrestrum.

“And what does it say about us?” Brother Jack said, pointing to the magazine.

“Say?” Wrestrum said. “It doesn’t say anything. It’s all about him. What
he
thinks, what
he
does; what
he’s
going to do. Not a word about the rest of us who’s been building the movement before he was ever heard of. Look at it, if you think I’m lying. Look at it!”

Brother Jack turned to me. “Is this true?”

“I haven’t read it,” I said. “I had forgotten that I was interviewed.”

“But you remember it now?” Brother Jack said.

“Yes, I do now. And he happened to be in the office when the appointment was made.”

They were silent.

“Hell, Brother Jack,” Wrestrum said, “it’s right here in black and white. He’s trying to give people the idea that he’s the whole Brotherhood movement.”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort. I tried to get the editor to interview Brother Tod Clifton, you know that. Since you know so little about what I’m doing, why not tell the brothers what
you’re
up to.”

“I’m exposing a double-dealer, that’s what I’m doing. I’m exposing you. Brothers, this man is a
pure dee
opportunist!”

“All right,” I said, “expose me if you can, but stop the slander.”

“I’ll expose you, all right,” he said, sticking out his chin. “I’m going to. He’s doing everything I said, Brothers. And I’ll tell you something else—he’s trying to sew things up so that the members won’t move unless
he
tells them to. Look at a few weeks ago when he was off in Philly. We tried to get a rally going and what happens? Only about two hundred people turned out. He’s trying to train them so they won’t listen to no one but him.”

“But, Brother, didn’t we decide that the appeal had been improperly phrased?” a brother interrupted.

“Yeah, I know, but that wasn’t it …”

“But the committee analyzed the appeal and—”

“I know, Brothers, and I don’t aim to dispute the committee. But, Brothers, it just seems that way ‘cause you don’t
know
this man. He works in the dark, he’s got some kind of plot …”

“What kind of plot?” one of the brothers said, leaning across the table.

“Just a plot,” Wrestrum said. “He aims to control the movement uptown. He wants to be a
dictator!”

The room was silent except for the humming of fans. They looked at him with a new concern.

“These are very serious charges, Brother,” two brothers said in unison.

“Serious? I know they’re serious. That’s how come I brought them. This opportunist thinks that because he’s got a little more education he’s better than anybody else. He’s what Brother Jack calls a petty—petty individualist!”

He struck the conference table with his fists, his eyes showing small and round in his taut face. I wanted to punch that face. It no longer seemed real, but a mask behind which the real face was probably laughing, both at me and at the others. For he couldn’t believe what he had said. It just wasn’t possible.
He
was the plotter and from the serious looks on the committee’s faces he was getting away with it. Now several brothers started to speak at once, and Brother Jack knocked for order.

“Brothers, please,” Brother Jack said. “One at a time. What do you know about this article?” he said to me.

“Not very much,” I said. “The editor of the magazine called to say he was sending a reporter up for an interview. The reporter asked a few questions and took a few pictures with a little camera. That’s all I know.”

“Did you give the reporter a prepared handout?”

“I gave her nothing except a few pieces of our official literature. I told her neither what to ask me nor what to write. I naturally tried to co-operate. If an article about me would help make friends for the movement I felt it was my duty.”

“Brothers, this thing was
arranged
,” Wrestrum said. “I tell you this opportunist had that reporter
sent
up there. He had her sent up and he told her what to write.”

“That’s a contemptible lie,” I said. “You were present and you know I tried to get them to interview Brother Clifton!”

“Who’s a lie?”

“You’re a liar and a fat-mouthed scoundrel. You’re a liar and no brother of mine.”

“Now he’s calling me names. Brothers, you heard him.”

“Let’s not lose our tempers,” Brother Jack said calmly. “Brother Wrestrum, you’ve made serious charges. Can you prove them?”

“I can prove them. All you have to do is read the magazine and prove them for yourself.”

“It will be read. And what else?”

“All you have to do is listen to folks in Harlem. All they talk about is him. Never nothing about what the rest of us do. I tell you, Brothers, this man constitutes a danger to the people of Harlem. He ought to be thrown out!”

“That is for the committee to decide,” Brother Jack said. Then to me, “And what have you to say in your defense, Brother?”

“In my defense?” I said. “Nothing. I haven’t anything to defend. I’ve tried to do my work and if the brothers don’t know that, then it’s too late to tell them. I don’t know what’s behind this, but I haven’t gotten around to controlling magazine writers. And I didn’t realize that I was coming to stand trial either.”

“This was not intended as a trial,” Brother Jack said. “If you’re ever put on trial, and I hope you’ll never be, you’ll know it. Meantime, since this is an emergency the committee asks that you leave the room while we read and discuss the questioned interview.”

I left the room and went into a vacant office, boiling with anger and disgust. Wrestrum had snatched me back to the South in the midst of one of the top Brotherhood committees and I felt naked. I could have throttled him—forcing me to take part in a childish dispute before the others. Yet I had to fight him as I could, in terms he understood, even though we sounded like characters in a razor-slinging vaudeville skit. Perhaps I should mention the anonymous note, except that someone might take it to mean that I didn’t have the full support of my district. If Clifton were here, he’d know how to handle this clown. Were they taking him seriously just because he was black? What was wrong with them anyway, couldn’t they see that they were dealing with a clown? But I would have gone to pieces had they laughed or even smiled, I thought, for they couldn’t laugh at him without laughing at me as well … Yet if they
had
laughed, it would have been less unreal—Where the hell am I?

“You can come in now,” a brother called to me; and I went out to hear their decision.

“Well,” Brother Jack said, “we’ve all read the article, Brother, and we’re happy to report that we found it harmless enough. True, it would have been better had more wordage been given to other members of the Harlem district. But we found no evidence that you had anything to do with that. Brother Wrestrum was mistaken.”

His bland manner and the knowledge that they had wasted time to see the truth released the anger within me.

“I’d say that he was criminally mistaken,” I said.

“Not criminal, over-zealous,” he said.

“To me it seems both criminal and over-zealous,” I said.

“No, Brother, not criminal.”

“But he attacked my reputation …”

Brother Jack smiled. “Only because he was sincere, Brother. He was thinking of the good of the Brotherhood.”

“But why slander me? I don’t follow you, Brother Jack. I’m no enemy, as he well knows. I’m a brother too,” I said, seeing his smile.

“The Brotherhood has many enemies, and we must not be too harsh with brotherly mistakes.”