Southern Ruby (40 page)

‘Well, whatever their motives, the Urban League is nothing like that dreadful White Citizens' Council,' said Eleanor, twisting the head off a crawfish and sucking the flesh from it. ‘They're trying to make it impossible for any Negro who tries to vote to hold a job or run a business.'

Milton leaned back in his chair and nodded. ‘They got all the aims of the Ku Klux Klan with the veneer of respectability of a church picnic. Yes, I give credit to the Urban League for convincing one hundred white people to sign a petition for the desegregation of schools. But the Citizens' Council got fifteen thousand to sign one against it without even breaking a sweat.'

‘It's worse in Mississippi,' said Joseph. ‘The planters are forcing their labourers to tear up their poll tax receipts or find themselves off the land.'

‘That's white people for you,' said Ti-Jean, sending a nod in my direction. ‘They can hang us, burn us, castrate us, shoot us and rape our women and children, but we've got to take it yessing and grinning and shining shoes for a living.'

‘Well, you be careful, Ti-Jean,' said Pearl. ‘They're collecting the names of NAACP members and putting you all on a watch list along with the communists.'

Leroy frowned. ‘Be careful too, Jewel. They'll probably do the same with the Urban League members. You could find yourself on a blacklist.'

I ate a mouthful of the corn maque choux. It was flavourful and seasoned just right, but it left a bitter taste in my mouth that had nothing to do with the food. I understood Leroy's fear. If I ended up on a blacklist, I'd be closely watched and it wouldn't be so easy to slip between being Ruby and Jewel.

Clifford had told me that things were growing worse in New Orleans, and I discovered it for myself a few days later when I was on Canal Street. I heard shouts and chants and thought it might be a parade practice, but then I noticed the shoeshine men hurriedly pick up their tools and disappear. A Negro maid dropped her shopping and broke into a run. The few stores that catered to coloured clientele hurriedly shut their doors and put up their closed signs. White people began to flee too. I watched a mother herd her four children into her Oldsmobile and speed away. A cold tremor ran down my spine.

A group of people holding placards and banners were marching down the street. When they got closer, I could read what their slogans said.

Keep our schools white!

Race mixing is communism!

The NAACP's real target is the bedroom!

At the front of the demonstration were two men holding an effigy of a Negro with a rope around his neck. Behind them came a man with a sign that said:
Tar and feathers and don't forget the matches!
I recognised Jimmy, the former barman from the Vieux Carré Club. He looked in my direction and I froze, but I was dressed as Ruby, not Jewel, and he didn't recognise me.

While many white people had fled, more had come out onto the banquettes to cheer the protesters on and some even joined them. Racists were crawling out of every nook and cranny like cockroaches.

‘Two-four-six-eight!' the demonstrators shouted, using a popular chant. ‘We don't want to integrate!'

A gangly boy, no more than eighteen, walked past with a banner that read:
Negroes go back to Africa! Except Fats Domino. He can stay!

If I had a lick of faith that the carrier of the sign was an intelligent human being, the words might have been taken as an ironic comment. But these protesters were ignorant bigots and
that's what made them so dangerous. I couldn't bear to even look at them.

I struggled through the spectators to reach Royal Street, but instead found myself pushed into the path of the protest, and came face to face with a woman holding a placard that read:
Communist Jews are behind school integration
. Oh, God! It was Aunt Elva! I hadn't seen her or Uncle Rex for a long time. She'd been furious that Sam had gotten the title deed to the apartment transferred back in my name. They were no longer our family as far as I was concerned.

She lowered her placard and glared at me, then her gaze fell to my navy overblouse dress and beige clutch coat, which were the first new items of clothing I'd bought for Ruby in over a year.

‘You little Jezebel!' she growled, bringing her face so close to mine that every hate-filled line and pore seemed magnified. ‘I know what you've been up to! Everyone is talking about it at the women's club. You've brought shame on us all by taking up with
that man
. Every time someone mentions your name, I spit! You're no niece of mine.'

My stomach turned queasy and I gasped. How had she found out about Leroy? If people knew, there was a danger that someone in the Citizens' Council would harm him.

Aunt Elva's nostrils flared. ‘Ha! So the rumours are true! You thought I wouldn't find out?'

I tried to bluff, although my hands were trembling. ‘Find out what?'

‘That you're engaged to that despicable traitor Clifford Lalande! He's been calling on you and your hussy of a mother. Well, good luck! He's rich now, but that won't last. He'll be starved out of town — the Council will see to that!'

It took me a minute to comprehend what she'd said. When I realised she was talking about Clifford and not Leroy, I clasped my hand to my chest and laughed.

‘You dried-up old prune!' I told her. ‘I can't stand you, nor your no-good gambler of a husband!'

‘Why, you!' she screeched, her face turning purple. ‘I'll kill you!'

She shoved me, and I shoved her right back. Then she boxed my ears and grabbed my hair, pulling so hard I thought she was going to rip it from my scalp. I brought my hand around her neck and wrestled her to the ground lest she do some real damage. When I saw she was trying to bite my hand, I pinned her arms behind her head and sat on top of her.

The bystanders thought the fight was because I was defending Negroes, and some shouted support for me and others for Aunt Elva. Something flashed and I noticed two newspaper photographers taking pictures of us. I quickly got up and hid my face. The last thing I needed was to end up in the papers.

I was relieved when the
Times-Picayune
didn't run a picture, until Leroy showed me the full-sized photograph on the cover of the
Louisiana Weekly
, the newspaper for coloured people.
Young white woman takes on anti-segregation march!
the caption read.

‘It's a pity no-one in my family will recognise you. Even Ti-Jean would have been impressed,' said Leroy with a grin.

‘It's lucky Maman and Mae don't read the
Louisiana Weekly
,' I told him, ‘because they'd be anything but impressed.'

We were ribbing each other, but then Leroy turned serious. ‘Be careful,' he warned. ‘If the supremacists go after Ruby, it won't take them long to find Jewel.'

T
here was no time for sleep the morning of the Mardi Gras parade. I came home from seeing Leroy just in time to get to my room before Maman rose, so that I could pretend I'd been home all night. She always woke earlier than usual on the day of the parade. It would have been impossible for even the heaviest sleeper to continue to doze through the sounds of the bands warming up in the streets and the revelry of the patrons spilling out of the bars. When I heard her walk down the hallway and greet Mae in the dining room, I smoothed down my skirt, opened my bedroom door and went to join her for our traditional Mardi Gras early breakfast of beignets and coffee.

‘Good morning, Maman!' I said, with the breezy smile of a young woman who might have had ten hours' uninterrupted sleep.

‘Well, you're looking lovely,' she responded, admiring my navy blue dress, which had survived the scuffle with Aunt Elva.

It was fortunate that Aunt Elva no longer contacted us because she would have loved telling the story of our fight to
Maman. Whenever Maman asked about my aunt and uncle, I pretended that they'd both contracted shingles or influenza or some other contagious disease and were afraid of infecting her. Maman would write cards to wish them a speedy return to health, but I'd never send them.

After breakfast, I set Maman up in a chair on the gallery rugged up in a coat, hat and scarf. Mae placed a pot of hot coffee beside her. The parade wouldn't pass directly by, but she'd still be able to see plenty of action. Jazz music filled the air, and children dressed as pirates and ballet dancers pranced after their parents. Maman and I watched two girls — one dressed as an angel, the other as a devil — skip along eating cotton candy and chattering excitedly to each other.

‘You used to love to dress up when you were a child,' Maman told me. ‘One year you wanted to be Alice in Wonderland, and the next, Little Bo-Peep.'

‘Is that right?' I said. I had a vague recollection of my childish imagination carrying me away. It had obviously been good practice for my adult life. I tucked a blanket around Maman's legs and chest. ‘Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you? It's going to be freezing today.'

She smiled brightly. ‘Go and have fun! If it gets too cold for me, Mae will help me inside.' I kissed her on the cheek and she grasped my hand. ‘You're good to me, Ruby. A mother couldn't ask for a better daughter than you. You're always thinking of me.'

It was true: I was always thinking of Maman. But that didn't stop me feeling guilty about all the sneaking around I was doing.

The streetcar routes had been redirected and it was impossible to find a cab, so I walked to St Charles Avenue. It took me over an hour but I didn't mind. I loved Mardi Gras. Clowns on stilts entertained children and tourists, charities had erected grandstands and were charging a dollar a seat to raise funds, while the less altruistically minded were renting out
ladders for profit. I passed street vendors dressed in antebellum costumes and selling cotton candy, roasted peanuts and toffee apples. I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed in the sugary cold air.

I had arranged with Clifford to go with him to see the Rex Parade pass down Napoleon Avenue into St Charles Avenue. Rex was the King of Mardi Gras and his role was played by a different prominent member of the city each year, his identity kept secret until the morning of the parade.

I reached City Hall, where the Queen of Carnival was waiting with her maids to receive Rex's toast when he passed. A jazz band was playing ‘If Ever I Cease to Love'. I thought about Leroy and his family: they would be heading out to watch the Zulu Parade, a parody of the Rex Parade. ‘Zulu' was a racial slur, and everything Rex did, the Zulu King mocked. While Rex arrived by yacht up the Mississippi, Zulu came on a tugboat. Whereas Rex held a sceptre, Zulu held a ham bone, and his entourage handed out coconuts instead of beads and trinkets. The Zulu King, although played by a coloured man, wore blackface. The parade was a mockery of white people and how they treated coloured people, but I'd never considered that until now.

I rang the front doorbell of the Lalande home. Instead of a maid, I was greeted by an animated Kitty waving a copy of the
Louisiana Weekly
with me on the cover. Theodore, the Labrador, pranced excitedly around her feet.

‘Come in, Ruby,' Kitty said. ‘You've been the topic of conversation all morning!'

Philomena appeared and took my coat and gloves before Kitty tugged me into the parlour. Given the social standing of the Lalande family, I had expected their open house to be an elaborate affair with people spilling out of every room. I was surprised to find Clifford in the company of only his mother, Eddie, and a refined-looking coloured man. They were standing
around the fireplace and drinking champagne. Their faces lit up when they saw me.

‘My, Ruby, that is a very fetching outfit,' said Mrs Lalande, stepping forward to kiss me.

‘Oh, thank you,' I said, accepting the glass of champagne that Eddie poured for me.

‘We're practically family now,' Kitty whispered, nudging me in the ribs.

I glanced at Clifford, who smiled. How was I ever going to set this right?

Eddie guided Kitty away. Before they left, Clifford took the newspaper from his sister and leaned towards me.

‘I told you before and I'll tell you again,' he said, his eyes shining. ‘You never stop amazing me.'

‘Oh,' I said, patting my hair, ‘I'm a bit dishevelled in that photograph.'

He leaned closer. ‘You look like Joan of Arc.'

‘Indeed she is like the Maid of Orléons,' said the coloured man. ‘A noble heroine.'

‘Ruby, let me introduce you to my good friend Christophe Galafate,' Clifford said. ‘He's a lawyer too and is working on civil rights cases for the Urban League and NAACP.'

‘I wouldn't be able to do what I do without the help of the good Lalande family,' Christophe said graciously. He wore a silk cravat like a French aristocrat, and I liked the elegant way he tilted his head when he spoke to me.

There weren't many places in the South where a white family would entertain a coloured man on equal terms. It made me think of Ti-Jean. Maybe if he'd accepted the job in the mail room, he'd be where Christophe Galafate was now, despite the unfair disadvantage. Maman always said it never paid to be bitter.

A young coloured woman dressed in a mauve slim-fitting dress suit with a cape collar walked into the room holding the hands of two equally well-dressed coloured children.

‘We should get our coats and set off if we want to see the parade,' she said. Then noticing me, she apologised.

‘This is my wife, Clarita,' said Christophe, with pride in his voice. ‘And these are our children, Adolphe and Isabelle.'

Isabelle, who looked as adorable as Shirley Temple, stared up at me. ‘You're pretty,' she said.

I kneeled down to her. ‘Well, you're pretty too. And your brother is very handsome, don't you think?'

She nodded shyly and the adults chuckled.

Philomena helped us all with our coats and scarves. When we reached the garden gate, Isabelle clasped my hand. ‘I'm going to walk with you.'

Clarita's eyes darted to mine. I would have liked nothing more than to hold darling Isabelle's hand as we walked, but I knew what her mother was worrying about.

‘You'd better hold on tight to your mama's hand too, because we don't want to lose you,' I said to Isabelle.

‘No, I always hold Mama's hand. I want to hold yours today,' she insisted, giving me a winsome smile that showed her tiny white teeth. Clarita bit her lip and nodded to me. We set off in the direction of the parade. Until the tension over the integration of schools, New Orleans had been an easy-going city. But in the current mood it didn't surprise me that people glared at me and the Lalandes for walking in the company of coloured people who were clearly not our servants. I hoped they might assume we were out-of-towners from the North who didn't know any better but unfortunately too many people recognised the Lalandes. Even during a wonderful time like Mardi Gras, people couldn't forget their divisions.

A woman bumped into my arm roughly. A foul-smelling man sidled up to me and muttered, ‘I'll kill you. Chop you up like a racoon, you nigger-loving bitch!' I shivered. He reminded me of Jimmy.

Isabelle didn't notice their hostility, she was too taken by a group of children who were dressed as pink rabbits, but Clifford did and stepped up to my side, while Christophe walked next to his wife. When Isabelle was distracted by a harlequin, Clarita discreetly took Isabelle's free hand and I let go of her.

‘I'm glad most of the white people here won't have seen the
Louisiana Weekly
,' I told Clifford. ‘Otherwise I'm going to get myself a reputation for being a troublemaker.'

‘You're walking with a group of troublemakers,' he replied. ‘It's already guilt by association. Do you mind?'

I shook my head. ‘If I did, I wouldn't have come.'

His eyes lit up and he squeezed my arm. ‘Thank you, Ruby. I admire your courage.'

The excitement was building as we reached the corner of St Charles and Napoleon avenues. The beat of the marching bands' drums and the roar of police motorcycles got louder, signifying that the parade and its floats were approaching. Christophe lifted Isabelle onto his shoulders. Rex appeared on his throne at the head of the parade, giving the spectators his royal wave. The crowd cheered and as the floats passed, people reached up their hands to receive the trinkets and beads dispensed by the riders. ‘Throw me something, mister!' they called, giving the traditional cry.

The theme for this year's Rex Parade was the life of George Washington. The floats illustrated stories from his life, including the one about him cutting down his father's favourite cherry tree, his military victories during the American Revolution, and his inauguration as the first president of the United States. One of the floats carried a banner emblazoned with his famous quote:
Happiness and moral duty are inseparably connected.

I glanced at Clifford. ‘That reminds me of something you said to me when I first met you: “You've got to do what's right even if it hurts you, otherwise the human race is headed for disaster.”'

His eyes swept over my face and he parted his lips slightly. For one uneasy moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead he shook his head dolefully. ‘It used to be full house at our home on Mardi Gras day. Just as well you declined my invitation to the ball because my name has been struck from the guest list. Everything that has happened has taught me about the ugliness of the human race. But I've also seen inner beauty and courage, and that makes me willing to fight on.'

I sensed his loneliness and his desire to have me by his side. I knew then no matter how much I tried to avoid it, I was going to have to set things straight with him soon. I could not mislead this fine human being.

After the parade, we returned to the Lalande home for lunch. Kitty showed me to the powder room upstairs so I could fix my hair and reapply my lipstick.

‘Jackie was unbearable,' she confided. ‘I'm glad Clifford broke it off with her.'

I put my lipstick back in my purse and snapped it shut. ‘
He
broke it off with her? I had the impression that it was a mutual parting of the ways.'

‘No. Clifford is a gentleman and has done everything to make it appear that way, including being discreet with you. But as patient as he is, I think it got too much for him. Jackie has a college education but she's lame-brained. She talks about nothing but who is going to marry who and the latest scandal. It's near impossible for anyone intelligent to listen to her for more than five minutes.'

‘She likes scandals?' I asked, a nervous feeling gnawing at my stomach.

‘She eats them for breakfast. Unfortunately, she wields them like a weapon too — she's destroyed a few reputations that way.'

I turned to the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair. ‘She wouldn't harm Clifford, would she? They've been friends since they were children.'

‘Wouldn't she?' Kitty leaned against the wall. ‘She's damn angry about the broken engagement. For a plain-looking girl like her, Clifford was a real catch. Fortunately, there are no scandals in Clifford's life. He's as honest as they come.'

Mrs Lalande called us downstairs and I followed Kitty to the dining room with my head throbbing. So Jackie was a spiteful person? My not being truthful with Clifford could do him a lot more damage than simply hurting his feelings. It could do irreparable damage to his cause.

The table had been decorated festively for Mardi Gras, with Venetian glass pitchers and goblets, beads, and a centrepiece of a crown and sceptre. While the lunch was buffet style, with tureens of red beans and rice, stuffed peppers, redfish court-bouillon and green beans set out on a side table, the main table had been laid with gold and green plates and the cutlery was wrapped in napkins and tied with purple masks. But even the sight of such a lavish table couldn't cheer me. I made up my mind that I would set things straight with Clifford before Mardi Gras was over.

After we were all seated, Mrs Lalande proposed a toast, again quoting George Washington: ‘Be courteous to all, but intimate with a few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.'

When it was time to leave, Clifford walked me to the gate. I slipped the address of the club into his hand and told him, ‘I'm working tonight, but I want to meet you at the Vieux Carré Club afterwards. Eleven o'clock.'

He looked surprised by the location, but nodded. ‘All right, Ruby.' The note of trust in his voice pinched my heart. ‘I've heard they play excellent jazz there but I've never been.'

As I walked home, I kept bumping into people and taking wrong turns. I knew that tonight would bring things to an end with Clifford for good. Part of me was sorry, but part of me was relieved too. I was proud of Jewel and proud that by my
own enterprise I'd taken care of Maman and Mae. Why should I be ashamed of that, or of Leroy, or anything else?