sticks, I was somebody from the Braddock Hotel. "My man!Daddy-o!" And I had Big Apple
reefers. Nobody had ever heard of a traveling reefer peddler.
I followed no particular band. Each band's musicians knew the other bands' one-nighter touring
schedules. When I ran out of supplies, I'd return to New York, and load up, then hit the road
again. Auditoriums or gymnasiums all lighted up, the band's chartered bus outside, the dressedup,
excited, local dancers pouring in. At the door, I'd announce that I was some bandman's
brother; in most cases they thought I was one of the musicians. Throughout the dance, I'd show
the country folks some plain and fancy lindy-hopping. Sometimes, I'd stay overnight in a town.
Sometimes I'd ride the band's bus to their next stop. Sometimes, back in New York, I would stay
awhile. Things had cooled down. Word was around that I had left town, and the narcotics squad
was satisfied with that. In some of the small towns, people thinking I was with the band even
mobbed me for autographs. Once, in Buffalo, my suit was nearly torn off.
My brother Reginald was waiting for me one day when I pulled into New York. The day before, his
merchant ship had put into port over in New Jersey. Thinking I still worked at Small's, Reginald
had gone there, and the bartenders had directed him to Sammy, who put him up.
It felt good to see my brother. It was hard to believe that he was once the little kid who tagged
after me. Reginald now was almost six feet tall, but still a few inches shorter than me. His
complexion was darker man mine, but he had greenish eyes, and a white streak in his hair, which
was otherwise dark reddish, something like mine.
I took Reginald everywhere, introducing nun. Studying my brother, I liked him. He was a lot more
self-possessed than I had been at sixteen.
I didn't have a room right at the time, but I had some money, so did Reginald, and we checked
into the St. Nicholas Hotel on Sugar Hill. It has since been torn down.
Reginald and I talked all night about the Lansing years, about our family. I told him things about
our rather and mother that he couldn't remember. Then Reginald filled me in on our brothers and
sisters. Wilfred was still a trade instructor at Wilberforce University. Hilda, still in Lansing, was
talking of getting married; so was Philbert.
Reginald and I were the next two in line. And Yvonne, Wesley, and Robert were still in Lansing, in
school.
Reginald and I laughed about Philbert, who, the last time I had seen him, had gotten deeply
religious; he wore one of those round straw hats.
Reginald's ship was in for about a week getting some kind of repairs on its engines. I was pleased
to see that Reginald, though he said little about it, admired my living by my wits. Reginald
dressed a little too loudly, I thought. I got a reefer customer of mine to get him a more
conservative overcoat and suit. I told
Reginald what I had learned: that in order to get something you had to look as though you already
had something.
Before Reginald left, I urged him to leave the merchant marine and I would help him get started in
Harlem. I must have felt that having my kid brother around me would be a good thing. Then there
would be two people I could trust-Sammy was the other.
Reginald was cool. At his age, I would have been willing to run behind thetrain, to get to New York
and to Harlem. But Reginald, when he left, said, "I'll think about it."
Not long after Reginald left, I dragged out the wildest zoot suit in New York. This was 1943. The
Boston draft board had written me at Ella's, and when they had no results there, had notified the
New York draft board, and, in care of Sammy, I received Uncle Sam's Greetings.
In those days only three things in the world scared me: jail, a job, and the Army. I had about ten
days before I was to show up at the induction center. I went right to work. The Army Intelligence
soldiers, those black spies in civilian clothes, hung around in Harlem with their ears open for the
white man downtown. I knew exactly where to start dropping the word. I started noising around
that I was frantic to join... the Japanese Army.
When I sensed that I had the ears of the spies, I would talk and act high and crazy. A lot of
Harlem hustlers actually had reached that state-as I would later. It was inevitable when one had
gone long enough on heavier and heavier narcotics, and under the steadily tightening vise of the
darsice
(darsice)
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