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Authors: Tracy Sugarman

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BOOK: Nobody Said Amen
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At police headquarters the two were booked by a sleepy sergeant and led up steep iron stairs to an open cell at the top. With a lopsided smile Dale said, “Bet you didn’t know you were just another dumb, fucking nigger, brother.” He aimed a playful punch at Jimmy who shook his head desolately.

“I was so busy thinking about the mass meeting I wasn’t paying enough attention. Man, I’m real sorry I brought you with me.”

Dale grinned. “Missifuckingsippi, Jimmy bro. They been grabbing everybody. Nothing personal. Just hope the senator’s folks we met are gonna come to the meeting.” He nodded to the open cell door. “They don’t seem very worried that we’re going to escape.”

There were voices down below and the slamming of doors. “Dale Billings!” It was the tall policeman at the bottom of the stairs. “Get down here.” When Dale stepped from the cell and looked below, only the two policemen were visible. Jimmy could hear Dale’s feet on the iron steps and then only the murmur of voices. There was a sudden shouted gasp of pain, a groan, and the sound of someone falling.

“Hey, Bronko, get this nigger out of here! And bring the mop.” Now it was the softer voice of the policeman called Luther. “Jimmy Mack!” Jimmy stepped from the cell and looked below. A huge black policeman was half lifting, half dragging, a dazed Dale out the door. “Come on down, Jimmy,” said Deputy Luther Lonergan.

Jimmy stared. The two policemen looked ridiculously tiny, their white faces turned up to his cell. “Don’t let me piss myself,” he prayed. Unbidden, he watched his feet move down the iron stairs, and suddenly he was standing between the two policemen. The two white faces filled the room. “Where is Dale Billings?” he asked, looking at the tall one. The large face never changed expression.

“Getting some help from another nigger. Now I get to ask the questions.” He cocked his head. “Are you a Negro or a nigger, Mack?” His eyes widened, waiting the answer. Jimmy met his eyes. “A Negro.” The unexpected blow from Lonergan exploded against his jaw, sending him sprawling on the cement floor. The tall cop swung back his boot and kicked him in the ribs. With a gasp, Jimmy retched, spitting blood on the floor. His teeth felt loose. You bastard! Lonergan reached down, grabbed his collar and hauled him to his feet. Very quietly he said. “My turn to ask a question, Jimmy. Are you a Negro or a nigger?” Jimmy’s left eye was closing and a roaring was deafening in his ear. I am gonna be sick. His right eye finally focused on the policeman’s face. The words choked in Jimmy’s throat and he spat out more blood. “A Negro.” The tall policeman swung his billy club, striking Mack’s arm with such force that he toppled to the cement, and a scream erupted from his throat. Gasping for breath and clutching his damaged arm, he tried to rise but failed. From where he lay he looked up the iron stairs, trying to stop the whirling room so he would not be sick. As the room steadied, he saw the huge black policeman standing, arms folded, and expressionless. “Are you a Negro or a nigger, Jimmy Mack?” One of the cops . . . which one . . . doesn’t matter . . . they’re going to beat me till they kill me . . . they got to hear me say nigger. The second kick in the ribs robbed him of all decisions. Panting, desperate for breath, Mack groaned, “Nigger.”

Through the rosy mist of his bleeding eye he saw the black policeman impassively observing. Lonergan chuckled, stepping back from the prostrate Mack. “We’re done.” With contempt, he beckoned to the waiting Bronko. “Get this nigger out of here.” The two officers left the room and Bronko came slowly down the stairs.

“A Negro or a nigger.” Bronko spat the words. Like my old man . . . nigger, nigger, nigger . . . never got tired of makin’ me say it. Beat the shit out of me for not being a white Polack like him. He never knew the whore was half black herself. Surprise, surprise! He couldn’t believe it when I decked him with the hammer. Surprise, surprise! Shoulda finished the son of a bitch. That blue eyed bastard gone now, left while I was doin’ time. Knew I’d kill him when I got out.

He paused when he reached the prostrate Jimmy Mack. “Some niggers don’t never learn. Say what you gotta say and do what you gotta do later.” He dragged the wounded man to the door and shoved him into the night. Bronko’s thick finger slowly traced the white scar on his cheek as he watched Jimmy stagger to the highway. He took a lot of licks ’fore he said nigger. That black motherfucker is a tough bugger. If they don’t kill him first, he gonna give me a lot of trouble.

Chapter Seventeen

Eula didn’t hear the tapping till she turned off the water at the kitchen sink and reached for a towel for the pile of dishes. She frowned, brushed the damp hair from her eyes and looked at the wall clock. Ten-thirty. Who in the world at this hour of night? The tapping was louder and more urgent. She dried her hands on her apron and cautiously approached the back door.

“Jesus, baby, open the damn door. It’s me.”

“Jimmy!” She swung open the door and leaned back against the wall as Jimmy staggered into the kitchen. “My God, what—?”

He swayed, blinking in the sudden light, clutching his arm. “Help me to the chair, baby.”

She hurried to his side and helped him reach the kitchen chair. “You’re bleeding! Your eye! What—?”

“Later, baby.” His voice was strained. “Don’t be frightened. Get some ice. The bleeding will stop in a minute.” Exhausted, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. A hacking cough rumbled from his chest and his damaged arm dropped to his side. “They kicked me in the ribs.” A groan escaped through his clenched lips. “It hurts so much to breathe, baby. And I can’t use my right arm. I think something’s busted.”

“Who? Never mind who. We’ve got to get you to a hospital. You could have a punctured lung!” Eula emptied ice onto a dishtowel and hurried to his side. “Don’t talk. Stay quiet, Jimmy.” She put the compress on his closed eye and across the discolored cheek and nose. “Hold this with your left hand, darling. I’ll be right back.” Beneath the pounding pain, he heard her voice calling upstairs. “Miss Willy!” Her voice sounded tiny and at a great distance. “Miss Willy!” As he started to cough again, the kitchen ceiling light seemed to dip and swing, so he closed his eyes tight. With the darkness, the pain shooting through his arm was magically turned off as he fainted.

They found him on the floor by the chair. Eula knelt beside him, cradling his head. “Under the sink, Miss Willy. The ammonia bottle. It will help.” Willy handed her the bottle, staring at the unconscious boy on the floor. When Eula placed the ammonia under Jimmy’s nose, he began to cough, and his good eye flew open. “Stop!” The command was hoarse. “I’m all right, baby. Help me to sit up.”

Eula helped him to sit erect. “He’s hurting bad, Miss Willy. He can’t use his arm, and he’s having trouble breathing.”

Jimmy blinked. “Sorry to mess up your kitchen, Mrs. Claybourne.” He was interrupted by a rough cough. “I don’t like to mess up Eula’s good work.” Unexpectedly, tears ran down his battered cheek. “You really don’t need this beat-up nigger in your kitchen.”

“I don’t know what’s happened to you, Jimmy. Eula can tell me later. But we’ve got to get you to the Shiloh Medical Center, and right now. Your cough sounds terrible.”

“No.” His voice was unexpectedly loud. “No.”

Impatiently, Willy said, “Just give me your hand, Jimmy. Eula, get your arm under his and we’ll get him to my car.”

With a groan, he finally was able to stand. “Give me a minute,” he pleaded. The two women stopped. “We’re not going to the Shiloh Medical Center.” Jimmy’s voice was firm.

“Of course we are.” said Willy. “You need help and that’s why we’re going.”

“They won’t let me in the door. Talk to her, Eula.”

Eula nodded. “Not even the Emergency entrance.” Her voice was tinged with anger. “There is no colored entrance at the Shiloh Medical Center, Miss Willy.”

“But he’s hurt. Hurt bad! Don’t be silly, Eula. If Luke were here he’d damn well get him in the hospital. I’ll take him.”

“Don’t matter, Miss Willy. Jimmy’s black, and he won’t get in. Waste of time. Only place he can go is over to the colored clinic in Mound Bayou, about forty minutes away. I know a doctor we can wake when we get there.”

“No time to argue,” snapped Willy. “Let me tell my sister to keep an eye on Alex till I get back.” She moved swiftly out of the kitchen, returning with her car keys “You know the way, Eula? Sit next to me and we’ll let Jimmy stretch out in the back seat.” When they made it out to the car, Jimmy hobbled into the back seat. As the two women got in the front, Willy said, “Who did this to you, Jimmy? It’s barbaric! I’m going to call the police soon as I’m back.”

“You don’t have to call them, Mrs. Claybourne.” His voice was muffled. “They already know about this nigger.”

“Don’t talk like that, Jimmy, “she said sharply. “How do they know that?”

“Because they were the ones that beat me.” In the dim light, Eula saw that he was crying.

“Dear Jesus.” Willy’s eyes glistened as she met Jimmy’s in the rear view mirror. “I’m so sorry, Jimmy,” she said, and started the engine.

When Willy returned, Lucas met her at the door. “Christ! Do you know it’s almost three o’clock in the morning? I didn’t know if you were dead or alive. Been out of my mind worrying. All your sister knew was you’d rushed out and would be back later. I called everybody. Went to ask Eula and she was gone. Are you all right?”

She slumped wearily into a chair and closed her eyes. “‘I’m sorry, Luke. Wasn’t time to leave you a note. And there wasn’t a phone in Mound Bayou I could get to.”

“Mound Bayou? What in the world were you doing in Mound Bayou? Are you crazy? There’s not a white soul in that whole town!”

“I didn’t go to find that out, Luke.” She raised her eyes. “I went with our Eula to find a doctor who’d treat a black man who’d been severely beaten.”

“A black man who’d been severely beaten. And you took him to Mound Bayou.” Incredulous, he simply stared at his wife.

She nodded. “It was Jimmy Mack, and he’d been terribly beaten. We didn’t know how bad. He was having an awful time breathing.”

“So Eula’s Freedom Fighter got beat up by some nigger and Eula got Miss Fixit to go running? You put poultices on the poor man?”

She raised her head and met his gaze. “No, Lucas. He was arrested by two policeman of the Shiloh police force as he came off the property of Senator Tildon. And when they got him to police headquarters, they beat him.”

“He was trespassing on Tildon’s property? Stealing? Selling dope?”

“No. He was trying to organize Tildon’s workers to vote.” She shook her head. “That was what he was doing there. He and that boy, Dale Billings. Trying to get people to vote.”

“Should have been arrested, Willy. That’s private property. I would have had him arrested myself if he was caught on Claybourne’s.”

“He was beaten, Luke. Cut in the face, beat on his body, kicked in the ribs. That the price for trying to organize in Shiloh?”

“There must be more to the story, Willy. This isn’t Russia. Police don’t beat people for trespassin’ in Magnolia County.”

She began to weep, her shoulders shaking as she buried her face in her hands. Alarmed, Luke knelt next to her, putting his arms around her. “Willy, it’s all right. Whatever you been through, it’s over. Come on to bed. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

She raised her head, trying to see Luke through the tears. “There is more to the story. I heard Jimmy tell it to Eula. They beat him, Luke, and they kicked him, one after the other, until he’d say ‘I’m a nigger.’” The tears began again. “Are you a Negro or a nigger?” Stricken, she stared at her husband. “And then when they were through, they threw him out of headquarters. How he got back to our place, Lord knows. I don’t think he remembers himself.”

Luke frowned. “Where is he now?”

“We left him with old Mrs. Thompson over in the Quarter. She was a nurse in the war down in Gulfport with the colored troops. Said she’ll see he gets some rest. She has some morphine if the pain gets too bad.”

“And Eula heard that whole beating story from Jimmy Mack?”

Willy massaged the back of her neck, trying to compose herself. “We both did, Luke. I’m a witness. She’s a witness. You can talk to her in the morning. She’s back in her room, worried sick if Jimmy will be all right.” Her voice rose in anger. “And I want you to call the sheriff. Dennis Haley’s got to know what his police did in his headquarters last night!”

“Willy,” he protested. “It’s almost four o’clock! I’ll call him later in the morning and tell him we want to see him.” He helped her to her feet. “Enough damage done for one night.”

“Come in Willy, Lucas.” Dennis Haley held open the door and motioned to the seats beside his desk. “Sit down, folks. Tell me what’s troubling you. You sounded really upset, Luke.”

“I’m more than upset, Dennis. My wife was told that two of your officers, Shiloh policemen, severely beat and kicked two of your prisoners last night. You know anything about two Nigras being busted last night for trespassin’ on Senator Tildon’s property?’

“Yes. I got the report from the sergeant on duty last night. It was on my desk this morning when I came in. Sergeant Meyers booked James Mack and Dale Billings before he went home. The charge was trespassing. No mention of anyone being beaten. They were supposed to be kept overnight as a warning against any further trespassing. You know, Lucas, there’s been a lot of incursions onto the plantations by these Freedom Summer kids. But the two policeman who arrested them kicked them out early this morning.”

“Is that the usual practice, Dennis? Two Shiloh police arrest the men, then dismiss the charge and release the prisoners in the middle of the night?”

“No. I’d say not. But Butler and Lonergan have been with the force a long time. When I questioned them, they said Shiloh taxpayers shouldn’t have to pay to house and feed two nigger agitators. Since trespassing was the only charge and the sergeant had left, they used their discretion. Not usual, Luke, but it doesn’t seem like a reason to make a fuss about it. What’s the problem? Them two boys your niggers?”

Willy answered. “No. They don’t work at Claybournes. But your policemen are not telling you what happened last night!”

BOOK: Nobody Said Amen
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