Manchild in the Promised Land (59 page)

“Yeah, man. You can go on and talk that shit because you're married and got a good-doin' wife and a wonderful little girl.”

“Damn, look at you, Sonny; you're only about twenty-one. You've got years.”

I said, “Yeah. It would seem like that, wouldn't it? Look, Turk, I don't know about this spiritual thing, but I'm going to try planting some of this seed money. I'm going to try planting some of this seed money just to see what kind of a tree I'll grow.”

It was as though I had found my place and Harlem had found its place. We were suited for each other now. I decided to move. I didn't exactly decide. Somebody decided to move me. The landlord I was paying the rent to took the guy who owned the building to court. He lost the case, so everybody had to go.

A few months before, I had quit my job in the watch repair shop, and now I was working with a group of fireproofing people on Long Island. They were contract painters, and they fireproofed and soundproofed ceilings. It paid two dollars an hour for nonunion men, and that was pretty good for me. It paid the rent and permitted me to continue playing the piano in my spare time.

It was all right for a while, until I realized what was happening. After I became accustomed to the job, I found out I just couldn't stay there. I was doing more work than anyone else and getting less money. It seemed that they always kept one Negro around to do the heavy work, the jobs nobody else wanted to do. So I decided to get fired and collect unemployment compensation for a while. I was collecting something like forty-two dollars a week, and that was all right. That would pay my rent and the bills, and I had a lot of time to do other things. I could practice the piano for eight hours or more if I wanted to.

I started selling cosmetics about that time. It wasn't so much for the money—there wasn't that much money in it—but for the experience. I ran into a fellow on the street, a guy I had gone to evening high school with. He was a Harlemite, and always hustling. They called
him Shorty. Shorty used to be always on the go, always trying to make that next dollar, and he always had a lot of plans. He was always telling me about his plans for getting ahead. He wanted to go to college. He wanted to become a businessman in Harlem and do something for Harlem. Shorty was the kind of guy who I felt could do what he wanted to do.

He was always selling some kind of cosmetics, and he was a good salesman. He used to tell me about the people he met selling cosmetics. After a while, I became so interested in this, I thought it was something I'd like to do, just to meet the kind of people that Shorty told me about. He said that he could take me up to the place he was selling for, Rose Morgan Cosmetics. He asked me if I knew Rose Morgan. I said I didn't know her, but I'd heard of her. I knew she was the woman who was married to Joe Louis once.

He said, “Yeah, that's the woman. She's a good businesswoman, man, and she's a fair person. Why don't you come on up and meet her? I'm sure you'll really be impressed by her, Sonny, because you're the kind of guy who could dig something like this. She wants to do something for Harlem and for the people too.”

I said, “Yeah, I'd like to meet her.”

He said, “Okay, well, come up to this address tomorrow morning at nine o'clock.” He gave me the address of a shop up on 145th Street between Amsterdam and Broadway.

I went up there and saw her. I liked the people who were working there. They started telling me things about how to sell cosmetics. As a matter of fact, I was told to come there every morning for an hour lecture on just how to sell cosmetics and beauty products.

I started selling the cosmetics. At first it seemed kind of slow and dull. I couldn't make any money, and it wasn't very gratifying to be made to feel that you weren't a good salesman. I told Shorty about it, and he said, “You got to keep trying, man.”

I went around with him for a half a day once. He was showing me how he approached customers. I got a few hints from him, and I started working long hours. Sometimes I would do this all day and part of the night. I liked it. I'd just be certain that I got four hours in on the piano during the day.

I had gotten my diploma from high school, and now I wasn't certain what I was going to do. I wanted to go to college, but it seemed
like a dream. I didn't have any money. I didn't think I was good enough to get a scholarship from anywhere. There were a lot of things happening that made me sort of look at my desire to go to college as just one of those dreams that couldn't possibly come true.

There I was. I had gotten my diploma, I was twenty-one years old. It was kind of old for going to college, but I took the college entrance exam up at Columbia University. I told the folks about it. I should have known they wouldn't understand, but they were the only people I had, so who else could I tell?

I said to my father, “Look, Dad, I've passed the entrance exam for Columbia University.”

He said, “Columbia University? Ain't that that school up on Broadway around
II
oth Street?”

“It's around 115th Street and Broadway.”

He said, “Yeah, yeah, I know where that is. I passed it sometimes when I was going to work.”

“Yeah, that's the same school.”

“Well, that's nice. Did you hear what the first figure was?”

I felt like somebody who is looking for a bar and ends up in a church. I felt as though I'd brought the wrong news. I said, “No, I didn't hear the first number, Dad. I didn't hear anything.”

“Well, it's probably better that I don't know it. I'll bet I didn't make it.”

I thought to myself, I guess he didn't hear me either, or it just didn't make any difference. This is crazy. I couldn't expect him to understand. I shouldn't have expected anybody to understand.

I didn't say anything more about the school thing. It was nice to go, and that was all there was to it. I didn't have any money, and I knew it took money to go to school. I decided to just sell cosmetics and play the piano.

In selling cosmetics, I became involved in Harlem, really involved. I was in Harlem all day. Most of the night, I'd hang out up there with the cats I knew. I'd moved up to Ninetieth Street. I got closer to the people. I was able to see them better.

I was always walking around with my sample case. Sometimes I'd knock on somebody's door like the Fuller Brush man, and I would say, “Good morning, madam. I'm here to interest you in Rose Morgan beauty products,” or something like this.

If it was an elderly lady, she'd probably say, “Boy, why don't you stop all that foolishness and go get yourself a job?”

I'd go on. It was a thing that I was really beginning to enjoy. I went around to all the beauty salons, and after a while, I got to know just about all the beauticians in the neighborhood, all up and down Seventh Avenue and Eighth Avenue.

I would give some things to chicks on credit. Some of them would pay, and some of them would have no intentions of paying. After a while, you could tell, before you gave them any credit, just who would pay and who wouldn't.

I'd go into bars at night and sell cosmetics to barmaids. I'd even sell them to the whores up on St. Nicholas and Amsterdam Avenues and down around 125th Street. Some of the prostitutes I knew from way back. They'd say, “Sonny, I'm gon buy something from you just to help you out, just for old times' sake,” or something like that.

I remember once I walked into a bar up around 145th Street near St. Nicholas. I met somebody I hadn't seen in a long time. It was Jackie.

She had her back to me when I walked in. I walked up and said, formally, “Pardon me, young lady,” and tapped her on the back.

She turned around, and she said, “Sonny!” She jumped up and threw both arms around me. She got off the stool and told the cat she'd been talking to that she'd be right back. “This is a cousin of mine, and I haven't seen him in a long time,” she said. “Come on, Sonny, come with me.”

I said, “Where you goin', baby? I'm on business here.”

“Oh, you got one of those little bags. You selling something too? … Sonny, look, you just come on with me right now. I've got a trick in here. I've got a good trick, and I'll make this nigger buy me everything you've got in that bag. But come on outside. I want to kiss you first. It wouldn't look good right here, just being a cousin.”

We went outside and talked for a while. I asked her what she was doing and where she'd been. She told me that she'd just gotten out of jail and that she'd asked about me. She went up to my parents' house. She said, “I should've known better than to ask your mother. I was hoping that maybe she wouldn't answer the door, that maybe your brother or one of your sisters would open the door. I didn't know that they'd moved.”

I said, “Yeah, both of my sisters are married now, and they don't
live with my parents any more. And my brother, well, that's a different story.”

She said, “Yeah, Sonny, I'm sorry, baby. I saw him.”

“Yeah, well, you know, that's how it goes.” I was standing up against the wall, and I had my case on the ground between my legs.

She kissed me and leaned all over me and said, “Look, here's my address. I want you to come on up tonight. I'll be home as soon as the bars close. Look, Sonny, I'm gonna go in here, and I'm gonna tell this trick that I need a whole lot of stuff. Now, you tell me what you've got in that bag, and I'm going to tell him that I need just about everything.”

I told her a few items that I had. I took her address and told her I'd come by her house about four-fifteen that morning. I had no intentions of going by, but it was nice to see her; it was real nice to see her.

She went back into the bar. She told this guy, “My cousin's selling cosmetics, and I want you to buy something for me.” She picked out about twenty dollars' worth of stuff, and this cat kept on buying it. This trick seemed to be in his forties. Jackie knew that she had a good thing.

I left after I made the big sale.

I'd see a lot of whores, and I got to know them. My best customers were the whores and the beauticians. I guess they were the women who used the most makeup, or they were more conscious of makeup.

Sometimes I'd run into different whores, and I'd say, “Come on, why don't you buy somethin'?”

They might say, “No, baby, I can't buy nothin' yet. I haven't made any money. Why don't you come back about one o'clock, after I've turned a few tricks?”

I'd say, “Sure, baby, I'll be back,” that sort of thing. Sometimes I came back, sometimes I didn't, but it was always an all right thing.

I went by to see Jackie, but not the night I said I would. I went by her house a couple of days later. She opened the door, looked at me, and said, “You lyin' nigger!”

I said, “What's wrong, baby? I just couldn't make it.”

“I'll bet you couldn't. You could of told me that when I was in the bar. I rushed home. I was out of there about three o'clock. I went and I got something for me and you. I had a lot of liquor and stuff. And, Sonny, I was all set to party. I just knew we were gonna have a good time. And you didn't show.”

I said, “What did you get?”

“I got some nice pot. I got some cocaine. I had all the liquor we needed. We could've partied all day and half of the next night.”

“Yeah, Jackie, that was real sweet of you, baby. I wish I had come, and I know it was my loss, but I couldn't make it.”

“What do you mean you couldn't make it? What happened? What were you doin'?”

“I went and got drunk.”

“Wait a minute. Yeah, I guess I was crazy. Sonny, you're not married, are you?”

“No, I'm not married yet.”

“Oh, I was wonderin'. I know I'd forgotten to ask, and I just ran right into your arms, I was so happy to see you.”

“I was happy to see you too.”

She said, “Yeah, well, I didn't stand you up.”

“But, baby, I couldn't help standing you up.”

“You still didn't tell me why.”

I said, “Oh, baby, I just couldn't make it. You get up tight sometimes. You get into something and you can't get away.”

“Well, I've got something nice. Do you want to get high?”

“No. Look, Jackie, I don't smoke any more, and I don't snort any coke.”

She stood there and looked at me for a while. She said, “Sonny, are you for real?”

“Yeah, baby, I just don't need it any more.”

“What do you mean you don't need it any more? Damn, Sonny, everything is changing too much for me. You! It's just too much. You were the one nigger I dreamed about when I was in jail. I put your picture up over my bunk.”

I said, “Yeah, yeah, and I'll bet you masturbated behind it every night.”

“Oh, baby, you know I did!”

“Aw, come on, Jackie, I think I told you that one the first time I came out of the joint.”

“But, Sonny, damn, you know how I feel about you. You were always the main nigger for me. You were the only one who made me feel as though I was really somethin' special.”

“Yeah, well, I always felt that you were something special, Jackie. I still do.”

She said, “Still, why did you …”

“Let's forget it. I'm here now.”

“Yeah, you're here now. You're talkin' about you don't snort any cocaine any more. You don't smoke any pot. Did you get any religion? Sonny, you're not one of those Muslims now, are you?”

I said, “No, baby, it's got nothing to do with religion, none of that sort of thing.”

“Well, Sonny, what happened?”

“Nothin', I'm just older, Jackie.”

She said, “Yeah, yeah, look at you. You're gray all around the edges.”

“No, I don't mean that. It's just that I've matured, and, Jackie, those things … like smoking and using coke and trying to get a quick piece of cunt … it was all a part of my childhood.”