The Nigger Factory (12 page)

16

Executive Conference

Ogden Calhoun was raging into the receiver. ‘Well, why in hell didn't you call me, Miller, if you were so goddamn hard up for something t'print in that rag sheet? Why didn't you call me an’ ask for a story? . . . huh? I don't care if you weren't there last night. The man didn't leave ‘til this morning an’ you were there then!’

The harried president of Sutton had never gotten as far as taking off his coat before he was on the phone speaking to the editor of the Norfolk newspaper. Gaines Harper sat in the chair across from Calhoun with sweat pouring off his face and his breath shouting up from his lungs in fiery gasps. The fat Financial Aid Officer was in no shape to chase Calhoun around.

‘Well, when he calls in you be sure that he gets up here to get my side of the story before you print. You hear me? . . . all right! Yeah. Well . . . I wasn't having any trouble until somebody saw your man. I still don't have much. I just don't want or need any of my people panicking an’ shooting off their mouths. I'd have trustees down here going through their bullshit . . . well, I'll talk to you!’ Calhoun slammed the phone down.

‘He said he was going to call me, but the night editor sent a man down here last night because everybody else was sending somebody down here. You know them newspaper guys. Nobody wants to do any real work, but nobody wants to get scooped either.’

‘You mean there's more down here?’ Harper asked in a gasp.

‘He said AP an’ UPI and some more . . .’ Calhoun pressed his intercom button down. ‘Miss Felch?’ There was no answer.

‘She probably didn't get over here yet,’ Harper choked.

‘Right.’ Calhoun dialed a three-digit number. ‘Miss Charles?’ he said in a syrupy voice. ‘Miss Felch hasn't come in yet and I am in desperate need of a cup of coffee and the morning paper. Do you . . . Thank you.’

Calhoun took off his coat and gloves. He hung the coat in the corner closet and sat down again in the leather high-back chair leaning against a large window overlooking the oval.

‘I don't have any idea what Thomas is doing,’ he admitted. ‘I know he'll be in trouble once I find out.’

‘This doesn't change anything, does it?’ Harper asked.

‘Not for me,’ Calhoun grunted. ‘Not until I get some more information about exactly what's going on.’

Miss Charles, a young honey-blonde from Fenton Mercer's office, came in with a copy of the morning paper. She gave both Calhoun and Harper a dazzling smile.

‘The coffee'll be ready in a moment,’ she said in a soft Southern drawl.

‘Good!’

‘Here's the paper. How're you Mr Harpuh? I so seldom get to see you.’

‘I'm fine,’ Harper lied.

‘Back in a minute,’ she said, starting to leave.

Fenton Mercer almost ran her down coming in as she was exiting.

‘Excuse me, Miss Charles,’ Mercer said. ‘I was just looking for you.’

‘I was gettin’ coffee for Mr Calhoun.’

‘Good. Would you get me a cup too? Good and strong,’ he grinned his business grin.

Miss Charles managed to get out at last.

‘I see . . .’

‘We saw,’ Calhoun muttered drily. ‘I s'pose each an’ every one here has seen by now.’

‘Well, everybody saw them parked there when they came out of the meeting,’ Mercer supplied.

‘Where's Miss Felch?’

‘She's comin’,’ Mercer said. ‘There's some more information coming from the meeting you left. I think it would be best if I let the department heads tell you.’

‘All right. Where are they?’

‘Coming.’ Mercer began thumbing his way through the morning paper.

‘We'll need some more chairs,’ Calhoun observed. ‘Gaines . . .’

‘I'll get them.’

‘They're in the closet out front.’

The various department heads came in at that moment. Beaker agreed to help Harper get the chairs while the others stood around. Calhoun was nervous about what he might hear from the faculty, but he said nothing.

Before everyone was seated Miss Felch came in with her pad and pen. Miss Charles also returned with two cups of black, steaming coffee.

When everyone was seated Calhoun cleared his throat to begin. He stopped himself:

‘Where's McNeil?’ he asked.

‘He's not coming,’ Marcus from Political Science said quietly.

‘Not coming! I asked all department heads to be here!’

‘We took a sort of quorum in the auditorium,’ Nash from the Music Department said finally. ‘I suggested that since we all knew the issues that we make things simpler by not really having a meeting here. I suggested that we simply give you our approval.’

‘That was when McNeil said he was leaving,’ Marcus said, barely above a whisper.

‘I'll be damn!’ Calhoun muttered. The meeting was over.

17

High Noon

Isaac Spurryman of the
Norfolk News
was the first reporter in the crowd to see Ogden Calhoun appear at the front door of Sutton Hall. He broke away from the small huddle of reporters who were comparing notes near the steps and tried to enter the building. He was cut off by the president's secretary, Irene Felch, who opened the door and squeezed her narrow frame through.

With the secretary's appearance the group of photographers and reporters scrambled closer and the buzzing from the group of gathering students subsided.

‘The president will be out momentarily,’ Miss Felch said as loudly as she could. ‘We're waiting for a microphone to be brought over from the Music Department.’

‘May be waitin’ all day,’ a student snorted.

‘Will the president be holding a question-and-answer session?’ reporter Spurryman asked.

‘I have no idea,’ Miss Felch said. ‘I don't really know what he'll be saying . . . I would imagine that if he held one it wouldn't be here.’ She tossed an expression of disdain toward the milling students.

Spurryman nodded and walked away with his head buried in his note pad. There were students at the base of the walk carrying three wooden platforms that they sat on top of each other. A small, sturdy-looking podium sat in the middle of the make-shift platform. The students nodded at each other and then moved off.

‘Ike?’ Spurryman heard his name called and looked up to see Arnold McNeil wading through the crowd toward him.

‘How are you, Neil?’ Spurryman asked as they shook hands. ‘You look like you've had it.’

‘Hot,’ McNeil said, consulting his watch and attempting a smile. ‘How have you been?’

‘Fine. Everybody's fine,’ the reporter said. ‘How's Millie?’

‘Good. She's expecting!’

‘I'll be goddamned!’ Spurryman said. He looked around for a second before continuing. ‘You old sonuvabitch! I'll tell ya. Drinks on me after I knock this off.’ He nodded toward the still-closed door.

‘Nothin’ said so far?’

‘Naw. Calhoun's secretary came out an’ said he'll make a statement when a mike gets here.’

‘What're
you
doin’ out here?’ McNeil asked. ‘You're a front-page man most of the time.’

‘Well, I'll tell ya. We had a policy of either ignorin’ these student things or sendin’ cubs out to cover them. I guess we went through that for nearly three years. We got burnt a couple of times though. We got burnt bad at Virginia Union. They had tipped us off about a thing an’ we didn't check it. When the damn place had to close we weren't even informed enough to do anything for ten hours.’

‘So now you check everything?’ McNeil asked smiling tightly.

‘Well, the desk got a call las’ night. Emple called UPI and AP an’ they said they were sending people . . . what's it all about?’

‘The students supplied a list of demands an’ turned them over to Calhoun . . .’

‘What were the demands?’ Spurryman asked poising his pen.

‘Haven't any students been over to talk to you all?’

‘Not a soul. Well, maybe I jus’ didn't see them. They here?’

‘I don't see . . . Wait! You see the tall one next to the tree over there?’ McNeil pointed through a cluster of students to a six-footer with a thick head of hair who was talking confidentially to two companions.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘His name is Earl Thomas,’ McNeil confided. ‘He's the head of the SGA. You could ask him. He's the one who gave the demands to Calhoun.’

‘O.K.’ the reporter agreed. ‘Where will you be? I'm serious about that drink.’

‘Good, I'll need it. I'll be right here afterward.’

Spurryman waved and drifted away through the crowd. He found himself approaching Earl at the same time as a number of others. Two of them were reporters. The others were students.

‘Mr Thomas,’ he began, ‘I'm Ike Spurryman of the
Norfolk News.
I was wondering if I could ask a few questions.’

Earl looked up curiously. ‘I don’ really have anything t'say right now.’

‘I'd just like to ask you about what your demands were an’ what you are expecting from President Calhoun.’

‘There are thirteen deman's an’ we are expecting Mr Calhoun to comply.’

‘What are the thirteen demands?’ a reporter asked.

‘I don't have a copy with me,’ Earl said. ‘I hadn't planned to deal with the press. I'm sure Mr Calhoun will give everyone a copy.’

‘Do you have any idea who called the press if it wasn't a representative from your office?’ Spurryman asked still writing.

‘The student body was informed of the deman's yesterday afternoon so it could've been any student or faculty member.’ Earl knew who had notified the press.

‘What time yesterday?’

‘About four thirty.’

‘And when were the demands served on the president?’

‘About ten last night.’

‘Did the demands call for a statement today?’

‘It called for a statement today at noon.’

‘Any particular reason?’ someone quizzed.

‘I suppose noon is the best time because mosta the studen's are not in class as you can see. We knew everyone would be anxious to hear for themselves.’

‘Testing. Testing. One-two-three-four-five. Testing,’ a voice cut through. A white youngster with long, dirty hair was speaking into a round, mesh microphone that had been set up next to the podium.

The microphone testing attracted the attention of the crowd. It also brought Ogden Calhoun into view. The president strode purposefully through the reporters and students who stood between the administration door and the makeshift platform. His glasses were in place and he held several sheaves of notes in his hands. Several reporters attempted to stop him for comment, but he only shook his head ‘no’ and kept right on going. Flash-bulbs were fired at him. Miss Felch and Fenton Mercer walked right alongside him.

The crowd continued its murmuring even after the president stepped up onto the stand. The reporters who had been clustered around Earl edged closer to the hastily prepared stage. Students who had been laughing and talking among themselves from the sidewalk across the street ignored the possibility that they might be hit by cars driving around the oval. They left the opposite sidewalk that circled the huge Sutton flower bed and walked into the road blocking off traffic.

Calhoun had imagined that there would be quite a few students present, but the gathering before him seemed to simply go on and on. He wondered for a second if he shouldn't have called the meeting in the large auditorium. Clearly every member of the student body and faculty was there.

‘Members of the community,’ Calhoun began, ‘I was asked by what I shall refer to as a list of “intimidating
requests”
to respond to these
requests
by noon today and here I am. I want to speak directly to the issues, but before I do I want to say a few words to the students in the community and particularly to those students who find themselves in leadership positions.
There are certain channels of communication established on Sutton's campus through which problems that bother students can be handily dealt with. I refer now to the committees on which both students and faculty are members. I refer now to the Board of Trustees and members of the administrative staff. These channels are present because everyone realizes that within all institutions there are needs that must be met. They are there because we all realize that neither students nor faculty members nor administrators have all the answers. May I also add here that none of these groups has all of the problems. A problem of one member of the community is a problem of all. If one is to deal with a problem one must be made aware of its existence. There are certain ways to make others aware of an existing problem. This particular way
can
be used but at times it serves to cause another problem if not considered carefully. I refer now to the fact that these particular
demands
(not requests) were given me last evening at ten o'clock. The last point on the page was that I respond by noon.

‘This can be construed as little other than a threat. My first reaction was to throw the entire list into the garbage can. Let it suffice to say that there are proper channels that are available to us all. Let us use them . . .’ Calhoun paused and looked around. There could be little doubt that the atmosphere had changed during the president's opening remarks. An unmistakable tension was becoming evident.

For the first time Earl noticed the gold-trimmed black dashikis circulating through the crowd. Fred Jones walked directly in front of him and handed a card to reporter Isaac Spurryman. Other members of the press were being handed these cards by Speedy Cotton and Ben King.

‘Somethin's up,’ Odds whispered.

‘Git a look at one a’ those cards,’ Earl said.

‘Better let me,’ Lawman said. He moved over until he was directly behind the Norfolk reporter.

Calhoun's voice could be heard as he continued discussing the students’ demands.

‘Point number one relates to having the Pride of Virginia Food Services dismissed. We are directing Mr Morgan of the Food Services to make himself available for another meeting with the established Student Government Association Food Services Committee.

‘Number two is a demand that Gaines Harper, present Financial Aid Officer, be dismissed. The administration is responsible for the hiring and firing of its staff. That includes administrative personnel and faculty members. When evidence is presented that indicates a necessary change, we make it. No such evidence has been placed at our disposal. Mr Harper will not be dismissed.

‘Numbers three and four require that the heads of our Chemistry and Language Departments be dismissed. I, uh, will remind everyone present of an organization called the Southeast Accreditation Association which is in charge of accrediting all colleges so that degrees received from these institutions will be valid. This in itself is enough to make it impossible for us to dismiss Dr Beaker and Dr Royce. In addition, the issue about a lack of formal complaints holds true here also.

‘Number five demands that the Security Service be forced to leave all weapons – clubs, guns, and so forth – inside the guardhouse while making their rounds. We consider it regrettable that our own community members do not realize the importance of our guards, who carry arms to protect our people and property, but we have talked to Captain Jones and he agrees to have his men leave their arms in the guardhouse.’

‘Did'joo git a look at the card?’ Earl asked Lawman.

‘Yeah. I tol’ this cat I was a member of
The Statesman
’s
staff who had obviously been overlooked. The card sez that there's gonna be a student meeting in the large auditorium right after this one.’

Tzzat all it sez?’

‘What else?’

‘Does it say why or anything?’

‘No. It doesn't.’ Lawman turned away toward the droning Calhoun who continued to read from his notes. He was turning down the suggestions that the various Sutton departments – Student Union Building, book store, and Art Fund – be placed under student control.

‘Whatta y’ think?’ Lawman mumbled.

‘Can't say,’ Earl admitted, looking around. ‘I haven't seen Baker or Abul.’

‘Thass a dangerous bastard,’ Odds said. ‘Abul Menka, I mean . . . Baker too, but . . .’

‘I feel the same way,’ Lawman said, reaching across Earl to shake Odds's hand in agreement.

‘Number nine,’ Calhoun was saying, ‘indicates that we should establish a Faculty Review Committee and a Faculty Interview Committee. I have suggested that these committees be established and that they consist of the heads of the departments, or a faculty member from each department, a student representative from each class, and an administrator. The specific people can be named when we hold our next faculty meeting.’

There was a murmur rippling through the crowd at this announcement. Even Earl and Odds had to exchange pleasantly surprised glances that turned into weak smiles.

‘That wudn't the whole deal,’ Lawman reminded them.

‘It's more'n I expected,’ Odds said.

Calhoun completed his speech by mentioning the series of lectures he was establishing in order to supplement the curriculum until a meaningful Black Studies program could be instituted. He raised his voice in dismay when commenting on the request that certain administrators’ books be audited by students, and he concluded the session by reporting that he had conferred with the Sutton medical staff and that the suggested changes would be instituted.

‘As for this morning's missed classes,’ Calhoun said, handing Miss Felch his notes, ‘there was nothing that could be done to
avoid it. This afternoon's classes will be held . . . I would stop at this time for questions and answers, but since it is almost time for classes to resume I will schedule a university assembly for later in the week when I can handle these questions and answers from the community. I will meet the press in my office directly after this for their questions. They will be given duplicate copies of the demands.’

There were a few raised hands, but Calhoun turned quickly from his audience and followed closely by Miss Felch and Fenton Mercer he strode back down the walkway and into Sutton Hall.

The whitey with the long, dirty hair started to take the microphone down. As he did the students who had assembled the makeshift platform gathered to take it down.

It was then that Ben King stepped onto the impromptu stage and facing the far corner of the oval raised both fists. The next instant brought the echoing ring of the auditorium bell. This was the traditional signal for a university assembly. Before Earl and his two comrades were able to comment on Calhoun's hasty departure, King, Cotton, and Jonesy were double-timing across the path that split the oval.

‘MJUMBE is at least a
little
organized,’ Odds said drily.

‘They run good,’ Lawman said laughing.

The auditorium bell continued to hammer away. The student body was drifting toward the meeting. Faculty members could be seen gathering in small apprehensive clusters. Reporters were comparing notes and asking one another which way they should go. Earl Thomas was asking himself that same question.