The Road to Memphis: List 4

What with Pearl Harbor, it’s been a hectic, news-filled evening. We’ve had a number of people stop by for news, and I’m afraid my staff has gotten a little brusque, seeing that we’re trying to get a paper out.

"Reports are still coming in, but the numbers are staggering. Men killed, ships, planes destroyed. Our Navy was really hit hard. We’re not hardly walking away from this. Sunday, December seventh, 1941, is going to be a day to remember.”

We looked somberly at him, for we all knew that was so.

“Well, I’d be obliged if my sister could stay here. She wasn’t feeling so well earlier—”
“I’m fine now,” I interjected thinking of how I must look to Solomon.

“Hold on, girl! You not fighting a war with me, you know! What got you so riled?”

Solomon smiled, seemingly bemused, and I said, “What’re you smiling about?”

“Ahhh,” he said, as if a revelation had just hit him, then he laughed.

“Oh, all right,” agreed the woman somewhat begrudgingly, “but we’re losing precious time here. Remember, you’re the one insists on getting this paper out on time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Solomon with a smile of mocking acquiescence.

Mag glanced again at the picture, then at me, and put her hands on her ample hips and gave me an odd look.

“That’s a very prestigious school. You’re supposed to be impressed.”

Thing was, I was so hamstrung by the racial laws that the only way I could figure to educate folks about the case was to put some handbills together to explain what we were up against.

He says that the United States government law is supposed to take what he calls precedence over state law. He says that about this precedence business, it’s all about interpretation. He says if the United States Supreme Court interprets the law different from the courts in Mississippi and says the United States law is right, then the United States law has to take precedence.

The music of Benny Goodman wafted from the radio, and I closed my eyes and began to sway to the rhythm.

Stacey, Little Willie, and Moe were asleep on pallets on the floor.

A record was on the phonograph, and this time I didn’t resist the temptation to turn on the music.

Solomon Bradley had me in his arms.
I was dizzy.
I was reeling.
The world was a dream.

“What do you mean?” I asked earnestly.

The light swung eerily across his face.

We sat on crude chairs around the bed, our eyes on Clarence, as if expecting him to suddenly jump up, grin, and strip away the pallor of gray that had settled over him.

We sat on crude chairs around the bed, our eyes on Clarence, as if expecting him to suddenly jump up, grin, and strip away the pallor of gray that had settled over him.

Little Willie turned to him now, and his eyes were bleary.

Then Charlie Simms started for Sissy. The sheriff intervened. He stepped in front of us and caught hold of Mr. Simms’s shoulders and halted him.

Harris looked around perplexed, as if he didn’t know what was going on.

Mr. Simms jerked Jeremy’s head upward and clinched his chin with fingers like a vise.

Mr. Simms emitted a horrendous scream and slammed his enormous fist into Jeremy’s jaw.

A short while later we heard Sissy scream Clarence’s name, and her scream was like a knife that rent the afternoon asunder.

A short while later we heard Sissy scream Clarence’s name, and her scream was like a knife that rent the afternoon asunder.

Impulsively I placed my hand over his.

I whisked away an errant falling tear.