Freedom train, p.8
Freedom Train, page 8
Pa said, “We weren’t gonna ride with the likes of you, Granger.”
I coughed.
Pa said, “Are you all right, son?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I’m all right.”
We walked side by side. I thought about Dr. Dobbs. I wondered what the white men feared so much about him. ’Cause in my mind my pa and Dr. Dobbs were the real men.
When we got home, Pa didn’t say much, he just got his guitar and went in his room.
Ma cleaned my head up where I had opened up my scar, while I told her what happened.
I climbed into bed. Ma come in and said for me to pray for Mr. Granger and the other hating men, ’cause they sure was the ones who needed the Lord. She didn’t even ask me where all the places was Joseph had been. She just rubbed her hand over my hair and said, “You’re a good boy.”
My muscles ached from the scuffle. I couldn’t believe I’d jumped on Phillip. I wanted this to be the end of it, but I knew that couldn’t be true. I wondered what Phillip would do if he knew the Third William had been the one to rescue me. I wondered what I would do if he found out too. And there was no chance now he’d let me recite the Freedom Pledge. Ain’t that many trades in the world.
ONE OF THOSE FOLK
Monday morning Ma got let go from her cotton mill job and sent back home. Pa told her he was sorry. And I believe he was.
I was still worried that he was mad at me for getting him in trouble with Mr. Granger and the other men. ’Specially the men from the railroad.
Pa wasn’t talking much. That meant he was thinking ’bout things. When him and Joseph would go at it ’bout something, sometimes Pa would go a week not talking to none of us. Then he’d sit down and talk to Joseph, and things would get all right. I was hoping that’s what would happen between me and him. But I wasn’t gonna bet on it.
I was lonely. If it hadn’t been for the Second Chester, I don’t think I coulda made it till the first of January. I still hadn’t told my folks that I wasn’t gonna be the one reciting the Freedom Pledge. And the teacher didn’t know I wanted to do it now. I read over it every chance I got. And every time I got ready to do it, my throat just closed up.
On December 31, Ronnie come back home. I told him about all what had happened.
“I heard of them Columbians. They’s really like the Ku Klux Klan. Ma says they evil as water moccasins.”
Water moccasins was the feared snakes around our parts. If you went fishing, you worried about water moccasins ’cause they would sneak up on you. Sorta like the Columbians, I guess. Moccasins and Grangers give herpetons, what Mr. Little said is Greek for creepy, crawly things that move around on their bellies—a bad name.
Word done got out all over the mill valley that I jumped on Phillip Granger, and it didn’t seem like nobody was the sadder for it.
When I got over to Ronnie’s house, his ma said I done the right thing. Then she told us she read in the newspaper where two little Negro girls were the first persons to board the Freedom Train in Montgomery, Alabama. She said people like the Grangers were scared all the poor people would finally come to their senses and gang up on the rich folk instead of each other. She even give me a token out of the Capitula flour for me and Ronnie to go to the Fairview Theatre to see a movie. We wouldn’t have to pay the five cents if we had the token.
It was a Roy Rogers movie, Bells of San Angelo. It was all right, but it didn’t have enough shooting and riding for me. At the end of the movie they showed a short picture of what was coming soon. Me and Ronnie both grinned when we seen it was the special Freedom Train movie that was showing in theaters all across the country. Just to think that my very own brother was on that train every day made me want to stand up taller. On the way home me and Ronnie talked about how much trading stuff we would have once Joseph got home. Joseph done told how he’s saving all kinds of souvenirs for me. And Ronnie knows I’ll share.
Two other things happened to me that day. For the first time I paid attention that the coloreds had to sit up in the pigeon section, that was the upstairs balcony. And I listened to what they was saying on the screen about the Freedom Train documents. I don’t reckon before I thought much about anything except Joseph and the train itself.
That night before I went to bed, I read the poem Joseph had sent me called “Freedom Train,” by the Negro poet Langston Hughes. When I got to the part that said,
If my children ask me, Daddy, please explain
Why a Jim Crow stations for the Freedom Train?
What shall I tell my children?
You tell me, cause freedom ain’t freedom when a man ain’t free.
I was thinking, What if Dr. Dobbs gotta tell the Third William that he ain’t really free? And when I thought it, things just come into place, like Joseph said, how you can be seeing something that’s wrong, but not really seeing it. I stood up after I read that poem and recited the Freedom Pledge out loud to myself.
I understood it now. And I could understand better, not all the way, what Joyce was trying to say to me that day. I was one of those folk. Most everyone that I knew, other than the Brookshires and maybe Joseph, was one of those folk. Just like Joyce said, people who don’t want to speak up when something ain’t right. But for the first time I didn’t want to be one of them.
The next morning Ma and Pa was all dressed and ready to go before I even got out of bed. They were so excited about seeing Joseph and the Freedom Train. And to be honest, so was I.
There was only one little problem. I needed to tell them that I wasn’t gonna be up there doing the pledge. I was ’bout to tell them when Pa called me into his and Ma’s bedroom.
Pa ain’t never called me in there before. Him and Joseph had their talks in there, but I ain’t never had what Pa called a “man-to-man talk.”
I sat down on the soft, cushioned chair Pa fixed special for Ma when I was born. It was kinda worn by now, but real comfortable.
“Son, I been thinking ’bout what happened the other night. Figuring what to tell you ’bout it. And I finally come to the part that I needs to tell you that sometimes men ain’t always doing the right thing. And sometimes other men might go along ’cause they gotta feed their family. You know I ain’t no churchgoing Christian, but son, I believe in God and doing right. What I means to say is, you was more of a man than I was the other night. I shouldn’ta gone out there. I know Granger, and to be honest, he ain’t no good man. I come up in a different time. We done things to get by. But I don’t never want you to follow a man that you know ain’t right, son. Your brother done taught me that much.”
Pa stood up. “I’m proud of you, Clyde.”
And then he tousled my hair.
I couldn’t even breathe. Pa never touched my hair or did any kind of mushy stuff. But I knew that this kind of man-to-man talk was what being a man was all about.
And I made up my mind. I was gonna say that Freedom Pledge even if I had to do it while we was standing in the line. Now I understood. My pa might be one, but he didn’t want me and Joseph to be one of them folk who just stand by and close up to wrong and, even when they see it outright, don’t say a word. No, I would no longer be one of those folk.
THE FREEDOM PLEDGE
We got on the streetcar together heading for the Freedom Train parked down at the Union Station. I hadn’t never seen it so crowded. People was packed in touching. When we got off the streetcar, it was so cold that the freezing rain felt like pins sticking in your skin. Ronnie swears that’s when frogs can drop down from the sky. I don’t know if it’s true or not. I do know I ain’t never seen it. But I found myself looking up anyway.
The Freedom Train was staying two days instead of one on account of Birmingham refusing to have the coloreds and whites in the same line.
The line for the train was already long, snaked around from track 6, through the Union Station, up to Spring Street Viaduct and along Marietta Street, down to Marietta and Fairlie. Pa pushed us through the crowds down toward the platform.
We could see another line of folk going to see the train Georgia had on the tracks with some of its famous documents.
The big platform had American flags all over it, and a put-together cover was on top so folk wouldn’t get wet.
Miss Fowler was standing on the side at the bottom of the steps to the platform. My folks walked over where she was. I followed, feeling like a man going to be hanged.
Ma said, “Miss Fowler, we done brought the man of the hour with us.”
I waited for Miss Fowler to ask her what she was talking about. To tell my parents that Phillip Granger volunteered to recite the Freedom Pledge when their stuttering son chickened out. But instead she just nodded and said, “Great. Now, Clyde, stand right there, don’t move until I get back.”
I stared after her, my mouth hanging open. What was she on about?
I watched her rush over to the group of students standing on the platform, dressed like the documents. This was as excited as I’d ever seen her. She was talking real loud. I heard her telling the students to double up.
“You be the Magna Carta. And you be the letter from Robert E. Lee written at the end of the Civil War, as well as your assigned documents.”
Then she rushed back over to us. “I need to speak to our man of the hour alone,” she said, grabbing me by the arm. “Come on, Clyde, walk over here with me.”
Miss Fowler pulled me along, with me looking back every few steps to see if Ma and Pa were still there. Was I dreaming? Maybe that’s why Pa tousled my hair like Joseph and Ma usually did. I was still asleep.
Miss Fowler snap-snap-snapped her fingers close to my eyes. “Clyde, quit that daydreaming. And please tell me you still remember the Freedom Pledge.”
I thought, If this is a dream, it won’t matter if I say I don’t remember. I laughed, ’cause you can do that kind of thing in a dream, and said, “What Freedom Pledge?”
Miss Fowler looked like she was gonna pass right out. Then a man in a police uniform come up and said, “The mayor’s on his way to the platform. Y’all need to clear the area.”
Miss Fowler pinched me—hard. “Clyde Thomason, you better be playing. Come on,” she said, leading me away from the platform.
“I’m not dreaming?” I asked her.
“What? Heavens, Clyde, I need you to stop fooling around, because otherwise I need to go find a copy of the pledge and see if you can’t quickly brush up on it.”
“I’m not dreaming? Where’s Phillip?”
Miss Fowler sighed. “Do I have to tell you right now?”
“Please,” I said.
“Oh all right, but quickly. Mr. Little somehow found out what you did at the Negro family’s house, and he also found out what Phillip Granger and his father did. Mr. Little called all of us teachers and told us in no uncertain terms that if anybody was going to say the pledge and get the money, it had to be you. To be honest, once I heard what happened, I agreed. Now, are you ready, or are you going to mess up your shoes?”
I said, “No, ma’am, I’m not going to mess up my shoes. I’m ready. And yes, I do know the Freedom Pledge by heart.” I didn’t tell her I’d been practicing to say it and that I had made up my mind to say it even if I didn’t get on stage.
I ain’t gonna lie, I was feeling scared, butterflies was in my stomach and I did feel like I was gonna throw up.
Then I heard Ma squealing. I looked over at her and Pa. Joseph was lifting Ma into the air. He looked so good in his dress blues. His shoes were so shiny, even from here I knew if I got close, I could see my face in them. And there stood Pa in his shiny shoes, and Ma in her new ones.
I forgot about Miss Fowler and ran toward him.
I heard Miss Fowler calling to me, “Listen for your cue to come on stage, now, Clyde Thomason.”
Joseph put Ma down when I got up close. “Little brother,” he said, hugging me. Only he and Ma hugged me—and boy, had I missed his hugs. He messed my hair. “You ready to recite the pledge?”
Before I could answer, three other guards and a Negro man walked up. The tallest guard said, “So, this must be the young man who is reciting the Freedom Pledge that Joseph’s been bragging about.”
Joseph said, “Yep, my little brother, Clyde. Oh, Ma, Pa, this is our boss, Lt. Col. Robert F. Scott, and this is Sgt. John Brown, Sgt. Henry “Hank” Steadman, and this is my friend and our porter W. C. Lounds.”
I shook the men’s hands. I remembered Joseph told me that Colonel Scott, the tall man, was a war hero too.
“Come on, we’ll take you on the train,” the colonel said. Me, Ma, and Pa followed them onto the train. One part of me hoped I wouldn’t miss my turn to speak. The other part of me wished I would.
Once we were on the train, Colonel Scott presented Pa and Ma with a booklet.
I read, “‘The Documents on the Freedom Train, the American Heritage Foundation,’” like I was reading out loud to myself, so Ma and Pa would know what it was he’d give ’em. They both smiled and told him, “Thank you very much.”
We started walking through the train looking at the documents. I would say everything out loud. All of it was going fine until I come to the Bill of Rights. I felt like I should read them carefully on account of Joyce. I could feel my eyes filling up as I read ’em, but I wasn’t gonna cry ’cause Pa was standing right beside me. Then we come to the Constitution. I looked over at Pa and saw a tear comin’ down his face.
I couldn’t help it. I don’t say I know what happened, but I let loose with my tears. Ma was crying already. And then something miracle-like happened. Pa put his arm around me and hugged me.
I couldn’t get hold of myself to stop crying. Then Joseph come over and hugged me too. Then Ma.
About that time the colonel said, “Sir, it’s time for you to do your duty.”
I thought he was talking to Joseph, so I let go of him.
The colonel touched my shoulder, “I’m talking to you, son. The program is starting.”
Miss Fowler stood in the train’s doorway, motioning for me to hurry up.
I walked out with Joseph, with Ma and Pa right behind us.
“Sit over there and wait for my signal for you to come on stage,” Miss Fowler said. “Right after you say the pledge, Joseph will walk up on the stage so that he’s beside you when Mayor Hartsfield hands you the check.”
I sat down. My leg was shaking, but the butterflies that was in my stomach was gone. Now there was big old birds flying around in it.
Joseph said, “You can do it, slugger. I told you I met Joe Louis on the train, didn’t I?
I nodded. “Ye-e-e-s, y-y-you t-t-t-told me.” Oh, no. I was stuttering. I wasn’t gonna be able to do it.
Miss Fowler leaned over to me and said, “I forgot to tell you, Phillip’s father sent me word a few minutes ago he wasn’t allowing Phillip to participate, since the Columbians didn’t persuade Mayor Hartsfield to do what Savannah did and find a way to separate the Negroes from the whites in the line. I say good.” And then she winked at me and smiled. Mean old Miss Fowler actually smiled!
Things had worked out. Somehow I had been saved from the meanness of Phillip Granger yet again. I had to remember to thank Ronnie special for that rabbit’s foot. I squeezed it in my pocket. But now the question was, could I do it? Would I be able to stand up in front of all these people in the cold and rain and say the Freedom Pledge?
Then I saw Mr. Little walking with Dr. Dobbs and his family on the other side of the stage. The Third William waved at me. And I knew.
I could do it. If the Dobbs family could fight off a mob and stay in their house, they deserved to have someone to recite the pledge who understood what it truly meant. Somebody who knew that the Freedom Pledge ain’t worth the paper it’s written on if it ain’t real, and if it ain’t for everybody in America.
Miss Fowler said, “It’s time. Go on. Get up there, Mr. Clyde Thomason, and make us proud.”
Joesph squeezed my hand and said, “I know you can do it, little brother.”
I walked up there, still shaking. Still scared, but now determined. I focused my eyes on the Third William. I opened my mouth and out it jumped:
“The Freedom Pledge
I am an American. A free American.
Free to speak—without fear,
Free to worship God in my own way,
Free to stand for what I think right,
Free to oppose what I believe wrong,
Free to choose those who govern my country.
This heritage of Freedom I pledge to uphold
For myself and all mankind.”
After the pledge everything became a blur. I heard people clapping. Ma and Pa were actually jumping up and down. Joseph hugged me. The mayor presented me with a check almost big as me. When I left for home that day, I had the best feeling I’d ever had inside my body. I knew what it really meant to be an American.
FREEDOM
That night when we was all sitting down to dinner, Ma said a different grace than she usually says over supper.
“For a minute,” Pa said, joking, “I thought you was gonna ask God to bless every person you ever met. We’re hungry.”
I couldn’t stop looking at Joseph. He seemed all fired up. “You know, when the Freedom Train tour is over, I want to be one of the folk that help America be the dream it’s supposed to be . . . not just for a few people, but for everyone,” he said.
Pa said, “Your little brother is growing up to be just like you, son.” Pa told Joseph about what happened with the Columbians and how I had jumped on Phillip Granger.
Joseph, Ma, and Pa was saying how proud they was of me when I decided it was time for me to tell them everything.
I told them how I met the Third William and Dr. Dobbs. And how I jumped Phillip ’cause I knew it wouldn’t be right for me to stand by and let Phillip hit the Third William again, when he, all by himself, without even knowing me, had stood up for me. I told them how the Third William and Dr. Dobbs had got Mr. Little to find a tree frog for my present. And how Mr. Little said he and Dr. Dobbs was close friends.
