The Nigger Factory (6 page)

7

O'Jay's

Earl found Odds and Lawman engrossed in conversation when he joined them at a back booth in O'Jay's, the most popular off-campus hangout. He slid into the booth casually.

‘Earl!' Lawman exclaimed. ‘What in hell's happ'nin'?'

‘A whole lotta bullshit,' Earl said disgustedly. ‘Lemme get a beer an' I'll fill you in . . . where the hell yawl been?'

‘Nowhere. That's the point,' Odds grumbled, picking up his glass.

A waitress came over with a pad and pencil.

‘Black Label,' Earl said.

‘I'll take one mo',' Lawman told her. She didn't bother to write the orders down.

‘C'mon, man. Whuss up?'

‘MJUMBE iz up. My gig iz up. The jig iz up.' Earl replied smiling wryly.

‘Start at the beginnin',' Odds said impatiently.

‘That iz the damn beginnin'!' Earl said raising his voice irritably. ‘The beginnin', the middle, the . . . Look, uh,' he paused to light a cigarette, ‘I jus' hit campus a l'il while ago, right? I don' know shit.'

The waitress arrived with two bottles of beer and one glass. Odds put a dollar on the tray. The waitress pulled thirty cents out of her apron pocket and laid it on the table.

‘I got a call 'bout seven,' Earl continued. ‘It wuz King from MJUMBE. He sed they wuz havin' some kind a meetin' an' they wanned me t'come over to the frat house.'

‘Thass where you were? We jus' called an' Zeke sed you wuz gone.'

‘Well, I wuz.'

‘What happened?'

Earl was making patterns from the circles left on the rough-grained surface of the table by his beer glass.

‘This,' he said sourly, ‘is what happened.' He pulled a mimeographed sheet of paper from his pocket and placed it before Odds and Lawman.

We, the student body of Sutton University, request that:

(1) The Pride of Virginia Food Services, Inc., be dismissed.

(2) Gaines Harper, present Financial Aid Officer, be dismissed.

(3) The head of the Chemistry Dept. be dismissed.

(4) The head of the Language Dept. be dismissed.

(5) The men of the present Security Service be forced to leave all weapons (clubs, guns, etc.) inside the guardhouse while making their rounds.

(6) The supervision of the Student Union Building be placed under the auspices of the Student Government.

(7) The book store be placed under student control.

(8) The Music and Art Fund for Visiting Artists be placed under the auspices of the Student Government.

(9) A Faculty Review Committee be established consisting of students and the heads of the remaining departments (exceptions being Chemistry and Languages) to review the performances of the present faculty. This committee's findings would be honored by the university and all decisions forthcoming would depend on their decision.

(a) A Faculty Interview Committee be established in order to carry out whatever necessary changes be recommended by the members of the aforementioned Faculty Review Committee.

(10) A Black Studies Institute be formed at Sutton including courses in Racism, Black Literature, Black History, and Negro Politics. The head of this Institute would be hired by the committee mentioned in request 9a.

(11) The Comptroller, Financial Aid Officer, Treasurer, Music and Art Department Head (of funds), Maintenance Staff Coordinator, and Student Union Director be forced
to open their books to an auditor hired by the Student Government Association with Student Government funds.

(12) The present medical staff be reorganized and made larger in order to facilitate the Black people within the Sutton University Community.

(13) These demands be responded to no later than noon tomorrow.

Lawman whistled and turned the paper over after reading the demands through. Odds slapped himself.

‘Noon tomorrow?' Odds asked aloud.

‘In black and white.'

‘Thirteen demands,' Lawman said to no one in particular.

‘How many of these things had you done research on?' Odds asked Earl.

‘All of them and more. These are practically my words. I had a few more things jotted down with notes, but the whole damn thing is like a muthafuckin' gypsy turned them on to my shit.'

‘A gypsy?'

‘Hi 'bout a gypped-up bitch?'

Odds's question smacked Earl in the face. ‘I donno,' he coughed.

‘D'you think whut I think?' Lawman asked, swallowing half a glass of beer.

‘I donno what in hell you think,' Odds squirmed, ‘but I think that lazy bitch in Earl's office turned Baker on to all the shit we had been tryin' ta get together. I think that!'

Odds's voice was carrying like unleashed thunder. All three of the men seated in the booth turned to see who was watching and perhaps listening to their conversation. There was no one in the black half of the bar with them except the waitress who appeared to care less what happened.

‘Yes – it must have been Sheila,' Earl said softly.

‘What'choo doin' when you leave here?' Odds asked nervously.

‘I'm s'pose t'be goin' ta Calhoun's wit' these,' Earl said shaking the paper.

‘I think it might be hip if you . . . look, when wuz the las' time you wuz in yo' office?'

‘Monday night,' Earl said.

‘Did you check the papers we had written out?'

‘No.'

‘When wuz the las' time you took a look to see if everything wuz in order?'

‘What?' Earl lit another cigarette irritably. ‘Man, I don' check on no goddamn papers every day. I ain' got time fo' that kinda shit! I'm runnin' aroun' this deserted muthafuckuh like a chicken wit' no goddamn head already . . . I saw the papers las' week. They wuz all there.'

‘Las' week when?'

‘Las' Thursday or so. Yeah, las' Thursday.'

‘So, fah all you know Baker an' MJUMBE could a had yo' work since las' Thursday? Right?'

‘For all
I
damn know, longer than that. They coulda been makin' copies a all the shit fo' a month.'

The friends fell silent. Questions were appearing from nowhere and going nowhere. If Baker and MJUMBE had gotten to Earl's notes inside the SGA office there was no telling how much of the information they had. Earl, Odds, and Lawman had been placing pieces of information in a filing cabinet in the SGA office since the beginning of September. There were five keys to that office that Earl knew of. Odds had one. Lawman had one. Earl had one. The maintenance staff had a fourth. The fifth key belonged to Sheila Reed, the SGA secretary. The demands listed by MJUMBE resembled so closely the things that the three men had been working on that they could not help but suspect that they had somehow been betrayed.

‘What about MacArthur?' Odds asked.

‘Naw, man. Not Mac. He couldn' let nobody in. That job iz all he got.'

‘So if Mac didn' do it, it wuz Sheila.'

‘We're jumpin' to conclusions,' Lawman said. ‘We seem to be assuming that MJUMBE got inta our files.'

‘Listen to Mr Law Major,' Odds said, pointing a crooked finger at Lawman. ‘Whatta hell it look like ta you?'

‘Fuck whut it looks like,' Lawman exclaimed. ‘How do we know that they been in the files?'

‘Go check?' Odds asked.

‘What good would that do?' Earl asked. ‘If they got in to take the stuff, they could git in to put it back.'

‘Somehow we got to know whether or not they been in there,' Lawman realized. ‘We gotta know whether or not they got all our info or what.'

Earl got up stiffly. ‘I gotta make a call,' he said. ‘I came in here ta eat, but I don' feel like I could take a bite without throwin' up all over this joint. Matter of fact,' he added, ‘when I dug this list I almost upchucked then.'

‘I bet'choo did,' Odds laughed.

‘Get another round a beer,' Earl said dropping a dollar on the table. ‘I'll be right back.'

O'Jay came by. He was a big man with a charcoal tan. His face was battered by the six years of professional fighting he had endured. O'Jay had been the fighter's fighter. In thirty-nine fights he had never been knocked out. He had lost sixteen, but all of them had been by decision. He was very proud of that. Though he had never been ranked or made anything that resembled a main event, he had been in demand because he came to fight. He was never one for much cute, tricky punching. It was all or nothing for him. When he had acquired enough money and enough beatings to feel that his call was elsewhere he gave up the ring and bought himself a tavern.

‘Hi iz it, brothuhs?' he drawled as he made his way toward the oval bar in the front of the tavern. He was hassling with an apron string that was frayed at the end and difficult to make stretch around his rather imposing stomach.

‘Better for us than you, Orange Juice,' Odds laughed. ‘Na it ain' but so much you kin ask of a damn apron.'

‘Iss gon' fit,' O'Jay chuckled.

‘Look like a rhino inna bikini,' Odds retaliated.

The four men all howled. O'Jay, at length, tied the apron around himself.

‘Gonna have a good weeken'?' Lawman asked.

‘Wuz goin' fishin' tuhmaruh,' O'Jay said scratching his head, ‘but the way I hear it, alla yawl may be livin' wit' me come the weeken'. I heard people tryin' ta git some things done 'roun' here.'

‘Tryin' to.'

‘That means who ever doin' the tryin' bes' be packed. Calhoun ain' noted fo' playin' that young man revolution shit. HAHA!'

‘We'll see.'

‘Yeah. Lemme run up here an' help out at the bah.'

‘Right on!' Earl said as O'Jay made his way between the rows of tables.

‘Hey!' Earl called, ‘when you gonna git some new furniture. I'm back here gittin' splinters.'

‘Where at? In ya elbows?'

The three students laughed again.

‘Lemme make this call,' Earl said.

‘Hello?'

‘Shorty? This iz Earl.'

‘Shorty? I like your nerve.' The tone became softer. ‘How are you? I heard you've had some trouble.'

‘No real trouble. Not yet.'

‘You comin' to see me?'

‘Thass what I called 'bout. I got a few things to do. I'm, uh, s'pose t'be the one who lays the deman's on Calhoun. I'm goin' over there in 'bout an hour or two. Hey! You still there?'

‘Ummm. Uh-huh. I was asleep when you called.'

‘Were you? I'm sorry.'

‘No. I need to be up. The place iz a wreck. Bobby had Peanut over here playin' cowboys an' Indians . . .'

‘What time iz it?'

‘Must be close to nine.'

‘Well, I'm goin' over to Calhoun's at ten,' Earl said. ‘Can you have me somethin' t'eat when I git by there?'

‘By where?'

‘By yo' house, baby. Wake up now.'

“Bout ten thirty?'

‘Uh-huh.'

‘I imagine I can do that. But you cain' keep me up all night like you did las' night.'

‘Okay.'

‘You promise?'

‘No.'

‘Good . . . Earl, I love you.'

‘You mus' still be sleep. Bye, baby.'

‘Bye.'

The beers were arriving at the booth when Earl got back.

‘S'cuse me, Miss Pretty Legs,' Earl said. ‘Will you tell Ellen to come back here, please?'

‘Ellen, the waitress?' Earl nodded.

‘Sure,' the booth waitress replied, smiling.

The three men sat in silence sipping beer. Ellen, the waitress from the front of the bar, came back. She was a student at Sutton as were most of the young women who worked at O'Jay's. The owner seemed to realize where his interests were. His clients were students. His employees were students.

‘Can I help anyone?' she asked the trio.

‘I jus' wanned a better look at that smile,' Earl said. ‘An' perhaps . . .'

‘I knew you wuz lyin',' Ellen said, mocking irritation.

‘. . . a bit of information.'

‘About who?' Ellen said. She took a furtive look up front and then slid into the booth next to Odds.

‘About SGA's secretary, Sheila Reed,' Earl said.

‘You mean you cain' get it?'

‘Well . . .'

‘You better start winkin' at some a these wimmin,' Ellen smiled.

‘Who is Sheila's boyfriend or man or whatever?' Earl asked. Lawman and Odds leaned forward. All at once they knew what Earl was getting at. Sheila would definitely give the key to the office to her boyfriend.

‘Oh really?' Ellen asked. ‘Lawd, Sheila's been goin' wit Che Guevara. You better get busy.'

‘Che who?' Lawman asked.

‘The Revolutionaries!' Ellen giggled. ‘She been goin' wit' Ralph Baker from MJUMBE.'

The three men looked at each other. Truth is light.

8

The Head Nigger

Earl pulled up in front of Ogden Calhoun’s huge white home at exactly ten o’clock. The house had been built for the president of Sutton College in 1937. Since then it had changed hands eight times, had been destroyed almost entirely by fire in 1940, was remodeled twice, but remained a landmark in the area. Two years before it had been remodeled for Mrs Calhoun, and now it stood like a sentinel of southern history, a replica of the label the students applied to it – the Plantation.

The lights burning on the first and second floors told Earl that the Calhoun household was not completely asleep. He had been here on other occasions as representative of the SGA for various meetings. He realized at a glance that the first-floor lights were shining in the living room and Calhoun’s den and home office.

He was surprised when Mrs Calhoun met him at the door.

‘Good evening, Mr Thomas,’ the president’s wife said, smiling politely. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine, ma’am. How have you been?’

‘Just a bit run-down,’ Gloria Calhoun said with a hand at her forehead. ‘Won’t you come in? I’m sure you’re here to see Ogden. Is he expecting you?’

‘No, ma’am,’ Earl replied smiling. He commented to himself that he certainly hoped that Calhoun was not expecting him.

‘I’ll run back and see what he’s doing,’ Mrs Calhoun said. ‘We haven’t been here for the past couple of days and our maid was very busy. When I came home from the theater this evening I told her to go right to bed.’

Earl smiled lightly and Mrs Calhoun made her way across the spacious living room toward the den. There was no question in the young SGA leader’s mind but that Gloria
Calhoun was indeed tired. As far as he could see she was always on the run; speaking on a Woman’s Day program at somebody’s church, helping to raise money for a drive of some description, or just appearing with her husband at a university function.

Earl admired her. Not only because she had been married to Ogden Calhoun for almost twenty years, which put her in line for sainthood, but because throughout all their brief encounters she had impressed him with her sincere interest in community problems and genuine concern about the issues confronting Sutton students.

She emerged from the den having given Earl just enough time to light a cigarette.

‘My husband will see you now,’ she said with a pleasant smile. It seemed to Earl that Gloria Calhoun was always smiling. He considered it quite a tribute to her that she could continue to do so after living with the grouchy, grumbling Calhoun for so long a time. ‘By the way, how is Dora Gilliam? You do have a room with her, don’t you?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Earl replied. ‘She’s fine.’

‘I must have a chat with her soon. She’s such a fine woman. I’ve been thinking about having her return a favor and speak at my church’s Woman’s Day next month.’

‘I’m sure she’d enjoy that,’ Earl said.

‘Good . . . well, do give her my regards. I’ve got to run along now.’

‘Good night.’

‘Good night.’

The president of Sutton University sat in a leather swivel chair behind his desk, smoking a pipe, with a pair of bifocals perched on his nose. Ogden Calhoun was fifty-seven but didn’t look a day over forty-five. He was dressed in a silk bath robe with a pair of maroon silk pajamas peeping from beneath the robe. As Earl entered the room Calhoun put down the sheets of paper that he had been studying. He stood and shook hands with Earl rather stiffly and then
sat back again. He ran a hand through his thick, silver head of hair.

‘How are you, son?’ he asked Earl.

‘I’m fine. Yourself?’

‘Good,’ Calhoun boomed.

Earl looked around. The working den was well decorated. An oaken bookcase against the wall to his right was stacked with thick volumes on law, a multi-volume encyclopedia, textbooks, and pamphlets that proselytized for Sutton University. Behind Calhoun was a sliding door that led out onto a glass-encased patio where sat yet another desk, plus a round patio-table with an umbrella, a glider, and a couch with plastic cover. In the corner directly to Calhoun’s left was a lamp that seemed to grow out of an expensive-looking jade vase. The illumination was detoured by a rose-patterned lampshade. The thick green carpet was wall-to-wall here in the office. There were several chairs in the room: a captain’s chair, a reclining easy chair that resembled a leather throne, and another plastic-covered couch.

‘Sit down!’ Calhoun boomed, sucking on the pipe. ‘An’ tell me what I can do for you.’

Earl offered the mimeographed sheet of paper. ‘I have a list of requests here from the students,’ Earl said choosing his words very carefully. ‘They’re for you ta take a look at.’

Calhoun adjusted the glasses across his nose and took the copy of the demands. He read them, lost deeply in thought for a moment. Then his head snapped up. There was a crooked grin on his face.

‘Requests?’ he asked. ‘There’s nothing here that I’m requested to do. These seem to me like threats! It says here that I’m to respond to these by noon tomorrow. Is that right?’

‘Thass right,’ Earl agreed.

‘What’s requested then? These are intimidating. This is an intimidating document . . . never mind,’ Calhoun tried to lower his voice, ‘it sez by noon tomorrow. What if I don’t reply by
then?’ There seemed to be real amusement in the president’s voice at this time.

‘I suppose I’ll jus’ have to wait until then,’ Earl dodged.

‘For what?’

‘To see what the studen’s have to say.’ Earl replied evenly meeting Calhoun’s eyes.

‘Meaning that
I’ll
have to wait until then too?’

‘Thass right.’

Calhoun backed down a bit at that point. He took another look at the paper. Earl had half-expected to get kicked out.

‘This is a short-time thing you have here,’ Earl was told.

Earl said nothing.

‘I doubt seriously,’ Calhoun went on, ‘that I kin do anything excep’ reread these damn things before tomorrow noon.’

‘Do what you can,’ Earl said icily.

Calhoun blazed at that remark. ‘Look!’ he said almost shouting, ‘I have asked students over an’ over again to talk ‘bout whatever the hell it is they want in them various meetings that students are a part of. If this isn’t enough for them I will not be intimidated by a piece of paper tellin’ me what
I
have to do by tomorrow noon or no time soon! I will make a call or two. I’m gonna have a meeting to ask the people on them various committees what they have been doing if and when these suggestions came up. Chances are none of
these
things have been brought up. Students generally don’t appear at the meetings even when they have elected positions to serve on various functioning committees that we have. Now you come in here with a piece a paper telling me to put students in charge of damn near all the money that this institution spends within a year! Telling me that I will allow students to check books behind the people that I have appointed to take charge of various funds. And telling me that I, meaning the university, will pay for it? I think that you think I must be outta my mind! I don’t respond to this sort of thing. Ha!’ Calhoun sat back in the chair and puffed the pipe forming a cloud of the sticky-sweet cherry blend tobacco over his head. ‘I will call
this meeting! I will tell the students when these issues will be open for student-faculty-administrative discussion. That is all I will do.’

‘All right,’ Earl said. Calhoun appeared not at all prepared for that response. He regained his composure very quickly.

‘Then I’ll see you tuhmaruh?’ Earl asked.

Calhoun cautiously fielded the question. ‘I’ll try an’ call a meeting in the morning,’ he said, getting up to see Earl to the door.

‘I can make it out,’ Earl said holding up his palm as a restraining gesture. ‘I’ll see you.’

Ogden Calhoun had not allowed the sound of the closing front door to die entirely before he picked up the phone on top of his cluttered desk. He dialed seven hasty numbers. Calhoun sucked at his pipe, but the flame was dead. He didn’t like the tone of voice or the sarcastic glint in Earl’s eyes. He didn’t like the way Earl had gotten up to leave.

‘Hello. Gaines? This is Ogden. I jus’ had a visit from that boy Thomas. Uh-huh. The transfer that the students elected. Uh-huh. He brought over a list of
requests
from the students.’

Calhoun listened for a minute. ‘You weren’t there, but you heard about it? What?’ The president sat bolt upright in the chair. He reached for a lighter and set his cherry blend on fire. ‘Can you come over here tonight? Good. I’m going to call Miss Felch and a few others and see if I can’t get to the bottom of this thing right away . . . I said Miss Felch, my secretary . . . One more thing. I suppose you must not have heard everything because request number two is that Gaines Harper be dismissed. . . . What am I going to do? I don’t know.’