Read Catfish Alley Online

Authors: Lynne Bryant

Tags: #Mississippi, #Historic Sites, #Tour Guides (Persons), #Historic Buildings - Mississippi, #Mississippi - Race Relations, #Family Life, #African Americans - Mississippi, #Fiction, #General, #African American, #Historic Sites - Mississippi, #African Americans

Catfish Alley (13 page)

BOOK: Catfish Alley
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And then there's Junior. I'm so
fiercely in love with Junior Jackson I can't see straight, and he doesn't even
know it. I know I should give him up and find a man who's planning to settle
down and stay in Clarksville, but I can't make myself do it. I've breathed the
same air as Junior for so long, listened to his music and his dreams for so
many hours, not loving him would be like forgetting to get up in the morning.

"Tonight is Junior's big
night," Mattie says.

"That's right," I answer.
"And nobody deserves to shine more than him."

Junior has worked for Mr. Webster at
the Queen City Hotel since he was thirteen years old, on top of practicing with
every two-bit band that blows through Clarksville, just to get the experience.
And this is his big chance. I remind myself not to say anything that might make
him nervous.

"Here comes Mr. Sunshine now,"
Adelle says of her brother as he returns from parking the car. Junior is so
handsome tonight with his smooth new suit, white shirt, and red tie. If only
Zero could be here to see him.

We crowd into the dance hall and
find the seats Junior marked for us last night. The table is right in front of
the stage, seats usually reserved for the white people who sometimes decide to
come to the show. We aren't sure how Junior managed to get us this table, but
we're not complaining. He pulls out chairs for us.

"Ladies," he says in his
most suave voice, "may I get you some refreshment from the bar?"

We order root beers and look around
at the crowd while Junior heads to the back. We wave and hug and laugh with our
friends. It's not often, other than at church, that we see this many colored
folks gathered together, familiar faces and strangers alike. Even though it's
crowded, hot, and noisy, we are so excited we can't sit still. Before Junior
gets back to the table, the band members start to come in and warm up their instruments,
and a hush falls over the crowd as the trumpets squawk and the clarinets
squeak. It doesn't last long when people realize it's not Mr. Armstrong yet.

Junior comes back, grinning and
holding two icy root beers. He sneaks a bottle of beer out of his pocket, turns
the chair around, and sits facing the back of it. He's already starting to
sweat. I can see the beads forming along his ip and on his forehead.

"Are you nervous?" I ask.
I'm thinking conversation will calm him down.

"Nah," he says, but I
don't believe him. "It's just hot in here with all these folks pressing
in. I'm hoping they'll open the doors when they jet started, let a little air
in here."

Just then the band strikes up a
fast-paced melody and the crowd settles into their seats, swaying and tapping
their feet to the music. After the first number, Robert Webster walks
to the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your
hands together for none other than Satchmo himself, Mr. Louis Armstrong!"

We are on our feet, hollering and
clapping and whistling. Junior is snapping his fingers and grinning, and I
think how I've never seen him look so handsome, or so happy. Mr. Armstrong
starts with "When the Saints Go Marching In" and we stand through the
whole song. Before long, couples start breaking off out of the crowd and
filling the small dance floor at the back of the hall, or dancing in the aisles
between the lined-up chairs.

It's such a joyous feeling to be
here with the man I adore and my very best friends. I think I might burst with
happiness. Tonight, I believe anything is possible. Zero will become a doctor
and Adelle will finish nursing school. They'll get married and have lots of
babies. Maybe Junior will even decide to stay in Clarksville and play right
here at the Queen City. And then, maybe Junior and
I ...
I stop myself. I can't get my hopes
up that much.

The first set ends and Mr. Armstrong
takes a break. Junior excuses himself and we see him talking with Mr. Webster
back by the bar. When he returns, he's glowing.

"Mr. Armstrong has asked me to
sit in on the next set!"

W
e
all jump up and hug him at the same
time. "We're so proud of you," Adelle says.

I knew he'd ask you to play for
him," I say, try to catch my tears before he sees them as I reach up to
kiss his cheek. Junior gives me a look like he never has before. It feels like
my heart is going to stop. It seems as if he wants to say something, but just
then a member of the band steps up and grabs his arm to tell him it's time to
go.

Junior disappears and we settle back
into our chairs to wait. From where we sit we can see the musicians returning
one by one to the stage in the dim light. The piano is on the far right of the
stage, and Junior comes in and takes the bench, lightly fingering the keys of
the instrument he has played for so many years. My eyes are so glued to the
stage that I gasp and turn when I feel someone touch my arm.

There before us are Dr. and Mrs.
Jackson, looking elegant and poised, and maybe a little uncomfortable. We
squeal with delight to see them. They part slightly and Zero steps in between
them, his eyes fixed on Adelle. The lov
e
between them is clearer than ever
as he takes her in his arms and kisses her.

Our greetings are short because just
then the lights come up and Mr. Armstrong steps out onto the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he
says in his raspy voice to the hushed audience, "tonight, appearing for
the first time onstage with my band, we are honored to have on the keyboard
your own Mr. Albert Jackson, Jr." Mr. Armstrong turns and points at
Junior, who stands up from the piano bench and bows. Everyone screams, but one
voice is heard above everyone else's.

"Tear it up, brother!"
yells Zero.

Junior turns toward the table and
sees not only his best friend but also his parents sitting in the glow of the
low stage lights. He smiles so wide, I think his face will crack, and he sits
down and rips out a series of chords that fires up the band and gets Mr.
Armstrong tapping to the beat. Before we know it, the band is in full swing and
the whole place is pulsing with the rhythms of Louis Armstrong's jazz.

 

I have to shake myself and recollect I'm in Mattie's
room at the nursing home, I'm so lost in my memories. That August night in 1931
was so full of promise. I can still feel the way my skin tingled when Junior
sat clown at that piano. I remember how the black folks were so proud of
Junior. We were all so young and full of dreams. We refused to believe that
life could turn on a white man's whim. I look over at Adelle and Mat-tie and
they're also gone in memory. Roxanne looks at me, waiting for me to finish the
story.

"Junior had never been better. He played his heart
out that night. I was so proud of him," I say. "That's also the night
I knew I'd lost him for good." Mattie and Adelle nod. I see their sadness
for me.

"What do you mean?" Roxanne asks.

"There was no keeping him in Clarksville after
that. Within a month he hit the road with Louis Armstrong and his band. I
didn't see him again for three months."

 

Mattie agreed to let us borrow a key to the Queen City
Hotel, so on the way back to Adelle's house we stop by again so Roxanne can go
inside and look around. Adelle and I decide to get out and go in with her this
time. She looks very serious and her forehead is all furrowed up as she walks
carefully around the old lobby. She opens doors and examines the floor and the
walls like she's a fire inspector. We decide not to go upstairs, since we're
not sure that old staircase will hold us.

Adelle and I wait and watch while she does her
examination. I think Adelle is as lost in thoughts about what this place meant
to us as girls as I am. I remember the late 1920s, when we were falling in love
with each other's brothers. Me with Junior — especially when he finally started
to notice that I was not just Zero's annoying little sister anymore. It was
mostly Sunday afternoons when I was able to spend time with him. He would come
out to our house and pick me up in his daddy's car and drive us into town. We
always came to the Queen City Hotel on those afternoons. Mr. Webster allowed us
to sit out on the lawn under that big old magnolia tree and court.

"Addie, do you remember how old Mr. Webster would
sit and watch us from the back porch?" I ask.

Adelle chuckles. "I sure do. I think he must have
had some kind of arrangement with my mama and your grandma to make sure we
behaved ourselves."

Roxanne wanders back over to where we're standing. She
has pulled a notepad out and is writing something in it.

"What year did you say this hotel was built?"
she asks.

"I believe it was 1909," I answer.

"Mm-hm," she says, still looking around.
"You
know ...
I just wonder ..." She almost seems
to forget we're standing here waiting on her. Then she looks back at us and
says, "You know, it's a shame to let this beautiful old building sit here
falling apart. Is there anything that it could be used for in the community? A
bed-and-breakfast maybe? Or a country inn?"

"I don't rightly know," I answer, and Adelle
just shakes her head.

"There's not much call for a bed-and- breakfast in
this part of town, Mrs. Reeves," says Adelle.

Roxanne has a little set to her jaw, like she's just
made up her mind about something. "In order to get money for restoration,
there will need to be documentation of how this property will be used for the
community's benefit." She looks at Adelle and me like we're supposed to
have an answer.

"I don't really know how you go about that,"
says Adelle, and I shake my head in agreement with her. "But you're right.
It would be a shame to let this old place go." Adelle walks slowly over to
the big double doors that open onto the back porch. She stares out the doors
for a long time, while Mrs. Reeves brings me over and points out some of the
details of the staircase railing that are apparently historically significant.
I watch Adelle out of the corner of my eye, wondering what she's thinking.

I walk over to her and put my arm around her waist.
"What you thinking about, Ad-die?" I ask, as Roxanne finally stops
poking around and comes to stand beside us. We're all watching the rain drip
off the eaves of the porch. It's so quiet in here all you can hear is the
steady drip of the leaks in the roof into the buckets Billy has taken the time
to set around the lobby.

"I was thinking about that Sunday afternoon when
Zero asked me to marry him," she says.

 

August 1931

Adelle

 

This year everything has started to
feel different. Used to be, the minute church service let out, the boys were
off, running around, playing ball or racing to the creek to catch tadpoles.
Grace and I always help the older women get the food laid out, wishing we could
he tearing around and being silly like the boys. But today, both Zero and
Junior are helping set the tables up and hanging around after the preacher says
the blessing.

The four of us have been coming with
our families to these all-day singings with dinner-on-the-ground our whole
lives. Grace and I are especially excited today because we're having the
singing in two different places, since we've got so many people. The older
folks will be over at the church, but Mr. Webster agreed to let us young folks
use the Queen City for our singing. Right now, everybody's here under the trees
down by the river for dinner. There's so much food spread on those wooden
planks and sawhorses, they look like they might break in two.

I look up from unwrapping a
chocolate cake and Zero is standing in front of me acting all shy, which is not
like him. "Would you like to sit together for dinner?" he asks,
looking at his feet for some reason.

At first, I don't quite know what to
say. I'm thinking, of course I want to sit together. Isn't that what we always
do — our family, Grace, Zero, and their grandmother? But then I realize he
means just us, separate from my mama and papa. I look at Grace and she sort of
shrugs her shoulders like she's not sure why he's asking, either.

He must think I'm hesitant, because
he says, "Grade and Junior, too ... they could sit with us, I mean."

Junior nods, looking over my
shoulder eyeing the food, distracted as usual. Grace just looks at him and
waits. She adjusts her collar and smooths the front of her dress. She's so
patient with Junior. Any of the boys around here would love to be eating dinner
with her, but she has her heart set on my crazy brother. The only things Junior
seems to have a heart for are music and food. He seems to suddenly realize that
we're all staring at him.

BOOK: Catfish Alley
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