Three Days Before the Shooting . . .

by Ralph Ellison

  “And that’s when Miss Duval burps with a giggle and says, ‘So don’t forget fried ham and eggs, Dad. And boys like you and girls like me, which is a fine combination and a sweet little deal.’ To which Mister Jessie says, ‘Yes, that’s true!’ Then he starts going on about what he calls the arts of the manly husband and the womanly wife, and mind-sharpening teachers and tender-care nurses. And Miss Duval says, ‘And don’t leave out us professional gals like lil ole me.’

  “And hit by all that liquored-up talk I says, ‘Y’all better balance that whiskey with something to eat, otherwise you’ll be looping like kites before you know what you’re doing.’ And Mister Jessie says, ‘You’re right, McMillen, so bring us some sandwiches and stuff from the kitchen, including some oysters.’

  “So I take a good look at the way that money was scattered on the floor and head for the kitchen….”

  “Hold it, McMillen,” the Sergeant said. “Before you worked as a super what did you do for a living?”

  “I worked at racetracks.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Well, in the beginning it was exercising the horses. And along with that I started clocking gaits and their speed on the tracks. Then pretty soon I got so good at it that I started selling hot tips to the gamblers. I guess you could call me a tout for the touts. Because by working for some of the big-time stables I learned all about the bloodlines of horses. Like what stable’s stud sired what foal out of what stable’s mare, and the fees that it cost the mare’s owners for having her foaled. I even remembered most of the colors used by the big stables….”

  “How the hell could you remember all that?”

  “I had to,” McMillen said, “because in the beginning I read very poorly. But then, after putting my mind to reading and writing I found out that my memory was so good that I could tick off the bloodlines of horses like one of our old-time preachers reciting all that begatting and fighting that’s found in the Bible.”

  “You might have that kind of memory, but I doubt it,” the Sergeant said, “but go on.”

  “Take it or leave it,” McMillen said, “but sometimes having a memory like mine can be more of a curse than a blessing. Anyway, when I get back with the grub Mister Jessie starts raving again.

  “He says, ‘Look at me, Miss Duval, years ago by denying the truth of our human condition I bought this coffin and tried to live a life of the spirit. I bought it to guarantee my safe conveyance into the afterlife, but what happens? Hell, it turned out that for years I’d let myself be tricked as to the here-and-now and the there-and-then, and tricked my own damned self as to the cloudy hereafter!’

  “‘I can see where you’re sitting, Dad,’ Miss Duval says, ‘but what happened?’ And Mister Jessie looks down at her and says, ‘I’ll tell you what happened: When I took a look inside the damn thing and the bugs and worms saw me they damn near cracked up laughing at me. Here, I’ll show you.’

  “And with that he reaches inside and drops a little ole moth worm on the lid there in front of him. ‘Come close, Miss Duval, and you can hear this one laughing.’

  “‘No thank you, doll,’ Miss Duval says, ‘but how does he sound?’ And Mister Jessie says, ‘Like the sound of a tooth which I cracked on a pickled pig knuckle. And others like ten-penny nails scratching on glass, or an old rusty gate when it swings in the wind.’ At which Miss Duval laughs and says, ‘Dad, you’re better than a three-ring circus.’ ‘Don’t laugh,’ he says, ‘because these damn little rascals are knocking themselves out from laughing at human futility. No wonder their friends, the damn silverfish, were ruining my books and me unable to find where they were coming from!’

  “So then while I’m pouring more drinks Miss Duval says, ‘Dad, if you were given your wish on your birthday, what would it be?’ And that’s when Mister Jessie thinks a bit and runs his eyeglasses up and down on that chain he’s wearing and says, ‘Miss Duval, I’d get dressed in my best suit of clothes, my best fedora, and my best pair of shoes, and then I’d take my best walking cane and set out for an early morning stroll. And when the President takes off on his early morning ride from the White House I’d be standing at the gate and waiting. And when his chauffeur stops to see if the way is clear I’d step up to his limousine and greet him. “Good morning, Mister President, sir,” I’d say, “I’m Mister Jessie Rockmore, and one of our nation’s senior citizens.” And then I’d say, “Mister President, I think you should know that I was here in D.C. when your exalted position was held by President Lincoln, and though only a lad I was often nearby when he passed through these gates. Furthermore, I’ve been living right here while all the presidents who followed, including General Ulysses S. Grant, Warren G. Harding, and Franklin Delano Roosevelt, occupied the White House. And as you can see without asking, I count for very little in the scheme of things political, but I’ll tell you something that you might well have missed: If this nation has to have a man in your position, it also has to have men in my position who’ve accepted the responsibility of keeping a hopeful eye on your actions. So for years I’ve devoted a great deal of my time to president-watching, while hoping and praying that things would get better both for the nation, for them, and for me. Therefore I want you to know that I’ve prayed that like President Lincoln you have been given the strength to meet the demands of your office, and that the cares of the Republic would never prove too much of a burden for the strength of your mind, your temper, and your power of will. And Mister President, as a watchful observer I think you should know how much this country is changing. Because at three-forty-five this morning I reached the ripe old age of ninety-five years, and I want you to know that after all that time of watching and waiting I, Jessie Wellington Rockmore, no longer have faith in this nation’s bright promises. So as of now, here at the gate of the White House, I’m relieving you and myself of the burden of my watching and waiting. So sir, I want you to think on this development’s significance when you’re sitting in that oval office of yours and dealing with the fateful affairs of this nation. Because what you think of as peace I consider to be nothing more than the late Reconstruction continuing in vacillating words and the endless manipulation of self-interest and prejudice.” Then I’d say, “Mister President, take a walk among people like me and you’ll get at the roots of your problem.” ‘

  “And then Miss Duval cocks her eye on those goldbacks and says, ‘Doll, you’re wonderful! But after that, what would you do?’ And Mister Jessie says, ‘Well, by then I’d be surrounded by a pack of reporters, TV cameras, and F.B.I. agents, so I’d bow and I’d say, “Good day, Mister President, gentlemen,” and show them the grace of a man from my old hopeful days by tipping my hat as I made my way down the avenue.

  “‘That’s my birthday wish, Miss Duval,’ Mister Jessie says, ‘but as big an old fool as these bugs in my coffin have proven me to be I’d never get away with it. Because as frail as I am, they’d probably blast me with bullets for telling the truth. And if not, they’d think I was simply trying to get my name in the papers, so after laughing like hell they’d throw me in jail.’

  “Then Mister Jessie takes him a drink and looks at the ceiling a while and says kinda sad, ‘Back in Mister Lincoln’s time when people wrote and told him their troubles he’d answer them as fast as he could, and in handwritten letters.’

  “‘Yes, Dad,’ Miss Duval says, ‘but today we have TV, so the man in the White House not only gets to more of us, and quicker than ole Abe, but right into our own beat-up pads.’

  “‘True,’ Mister Jessie says, ‘but with his voice from the platform or his word on a page Mister Lincoln could touch you and make you feel that you counted in the broad scheme of things. Today politicians stand in front of television cameras drinking water and talk more flimflam than the admen. When TV was invented I bought a set just to see what the hell everybody was so excited about, and what do I get? I get that damn Senator Sunraider coming into my living room mouthing insults to me and my people, and all in the name of good government! A
nd him the same devil who’s always preaching about science and demanding government ownership of all the TV networks. Next thing we know the bastard will be trying to get a measure passed for the building of government-owned gas ovens!’

  “And with that he pounds his coffin with his fist and sends up a big cloud of dust. So I says, ‘Mister Jessie, don’t be getting all worked up over politics like that. Remember, this is supposed to be a party.’ So he looks at me and nods before taking another deep drink of his whiskey. Then he says, ‘McMillen, you’re right. Besides, what can we do about all the new gimmicks and gadgets, high-binders and clipsters? Folks nowadays don’t remember a death in the family longer than it takes to get the body off to the graveyard. Hell, back in his time Mister Lincoln could begin a speech with Four score and seven years ago and have it mean something to everybody. But today if he began it with Four minutes and seven seconds ago folks wouldn’t remember who the hell or what the hell he was referring to. So let’s be like the rest and forget our condition.’

  “Then he looks down at the lady and says, ‘Miss Duval, won’t you help with some dancing?’ And when I see her take a quick look at that money I could’ve kicked my own butt for switching Mister Jessie from politics to partying.

  “I could see the lightbulb start blinking over that red head of hers as she gives Mister Jessie a big juicy smile and says, ‘Why, of course, Dad, I’d love to dance, but now there’s a problem.’

  “‘A problem,’ Mister Jessie says, ‘what kind of problem?’ And she looks at me and says, ‘Not being told I’d be dancing, I came without a costume.’

  “And with that she throws up her hands and gives him another juiced-eyed smile. Me, I want to kill her for mixing me up in her devilment, but before I can speak up Mister Jessie points to that big cedar chest sitting over there and tells her to see if there’s anything in it that suits her.

  “So she wobbles over and takes her a look. Then she holds up some lace and silk cloth and tells him, ‘Dad, this would be lovely but it’s much too old-fashioned. But wait,’ she says, ‘because if there’s anything here that’s suitable I’ll find it.’

  “So she starts picking up pieces of cloth and old feather fans and things and tries striking some cover-girl poses. Then she drops them and picks up an old pair of high-heeled, high-topped shoes and starts giggling and says, ‘Dad, I’d really feel Frenchy in these.’ Then she holds up another bundle of cloth and says, ‘Now this is lovely, but it’d be a crime to cut it.’

  “And that’s when Mister Jessie clears his throat and says, ‘McMillen, get a taxi and escort Miss Duval home to get her costume, then hurry back so she can get on with her dancing.’

  “‘Oh, no, doll,’ she says, ‘I have a better idea! You remember Josephine Baker?’ And Mister Jessie says, ‘So, what about her?’ And she says, ‘Why, doll, she rocketed to stardom wearing little more than a string of bananas! So why not make mine out of newspaper? All I’d need is a needle and thread.’

  “So Mister Jessie tells me to get her whatever she needs. And while I know damn well she’s out to con him, I can’t figure how bananas and newspapers fit in it. So I says, ‘Yessuh, Mister Jessie, and I’ll better freshen Miss Duval’s drink while she’s stitching.’ And knowing damn well that I’m wasting good whiskey, this time I get a big water glass and fill it to the brim. What else could I do?

  “So I bring her some newspaper, some scissors, a needle, and a spool of black thread. And it’s only when I see her cutting that newspaper into strips about the size of those goldbacks that I catch on to her game. So I says, ‘Mister Jessie, since there’s going to be dancing maybe I better straighten up the floor a bit.’ To which he stares at me like he’s brooding and says, ‘McMillen, leave that floor just as it is.’ So even though I’m trying to look out for his interests I have to sit there watching her get on with her scam.

  “First she starts cutting that newspaper, headlines and all, into strips about the same size of those goldbacks and strings them together on a long piece of thread. And after she’s strung two dozen or so she holds them up and says with a frown, ‘Dammit, doll, it’s a good idea, but this paper keeps tearing!’ Then she slams the stuff on the floor and stomps it.

  “So with that Mister Jessie says, ‘McMillen, go to the library and bring Miss Duval some of my best stationery’—and gentlemen, that’s when she leaps in and scores!

  “‘Oh, don’t go to all that trouble, doll,’ she say, ‘I see just the thing I need right there on the floor.’

  “So, juiced as she is I have to sit there helpless while she grabs a batch of those goldbacks and starts to work with that needle.

  “First she makes a strip out of three of those goldbacks by sewing them together end to end, then she takes three more and treats them the same and keeps stitching ‘til she has what she needs—which was a heap. But she’s as fast with a needle as she is with her scamming, and when she’s done she doubles a long piece of thread and runs it through the tops of the goldbacks and stretches it the width of her arms so Mister Jessie can see it.

  “‘There, doll,’ she says, ‘how do you like it?’

  “And looking down at his dangling goldbacks, Mister Jessie says, ‘Miss Duval, it’s good to see the stuff put to some use, so if it suits you I’m happy. Meanwhile I’m waiting to see you perform.’

  “‘And you will, doll,’ she says, ‘and it’ll top anything Josephine Baker ever came up with. It’s truly a killer, as you’ll see as soon as I strip. It’ll be even better than my days in the Follies when I performed at a stag which was given in honor of some Wall Street aristocrats. It was at the Astor, and doll, would you believe it, I was hidden in a huge apple pie and marched into the ballroom on the shoulders of four handsome waiters who placed me in the center of a long banquet table. And doll, when the pie was opened did I began to swing! And did those bankers and judges sit back in their chairs! Doll, the applause was deafening, and every guest to a man declared I was lovely!

  “‘And I had to believe them, because when a woman is lovely she can’t help but know it. And especially when she’s done up in a white ermine jacket, white satin booties, and a lovely white G-string of Oriental pearls. And with the guests all applauding I felt like a queen! Then with the orchestra and waiters going into action the party took off like the Fourth of July. Magnums of champagne began exploding like cannon, and with millionaires cheering I began parading the table one step at a time and saluting each of the guests with a smile and a petite bump and grind. And doll, they were so delighted that every Tom, Dick, and Harry among them demanded that I give them the pleasure of toasting my performance by drinking champagne from my darling white booties!’

  “And Mister Jessie says, ‘Miss Duval, I’m sure you were wonderful, but what about McMillen and me?’ And she says, ‘Why, of course, doll,’ and heads for the bedroom.

  “So while she’s gone Mister Jessie sips his whiskey and stares at the ceiling. I’m still worried by the way the lady was eyeing his money, but the first time I tried warning him the man wouldn’t listen. So I’m about to warn him again when the door comes open. And gentlemen, when I look back and see Miss Duval dressed in nothing but her high-heeled shoes and that skirt she’s rigged out of goldbacks my feet start to itch and my brain starts to stagger!

  “Never in my life have I seen so much of her kind of woman! And it must’ve been the same for poor Mister Jessie. Because while I’m rocking and reeling he yells, ‘Miss Duval, is that you?’ And she gives him a smile and says, ‘Yes, doll, the true one and only!’ Then with her hands on her hips she turns in a circle so he can see her and says, ‘And isn’t my costume a darling?’

  “And with that Mister Jessie grabs holt to his coffin and yells, ‘Dance, Miss Duval! Get on with your dancing!’

  [DANCE]

  “SO SHE STARTS HUMMING a tune and snapping her fingers, and when she starts to dancing it’s like watching a big dish of Jell-O that’s doing the shimmy. Then with the tips of her fingers she lifts the h
em of that skirt she’s stitched out of goldbacks and starts to waltzing. But it turns out no better, because being juiced to the gills she stumbles and flubs it. But that doesn’t faze her. ‘Cause she comes to a halt and throws back her head like she’s high on a stage and has just been crowned the new Miss America. And when I look to see how Mister Jessie’s taking it he’s staring down from his coffin like a judge listening to a cat copping a plea to a crime so outrageous that he can’t believe it. And now when I look back Miss Duval has one of her legs stretched out in front and the other behind, and she’s sinking to the floor in a gut-busting split….”

  “Dammit, McMillen,” the Sergeant shouted, “what the hell happened to Rockmore?”

  “That’s what I’m getting to,” McMillen said, “only I’m trying to get it together so you and these other gentlemen can see it.”

  “Then get on with it!”

  “So just as Miss Duval bumps the floor in doing her split the doorbell rings and I take off to see who it is. But just as I get there the door flies open and there’s this white man….”

  “A white man?”

  “Yes, sir, and he’s the same one I asked you about when you busted in.”

  “Okay, but who let him in?”

  “I don’t know, but he was here—I swear! And when I go to tell him Mister Jessie didn’t do business at that time of night he rushes past me. And when Miss Duval hears all the commotion she must’ve tried to rise out of her split, because when the man gets to her—and I’m right behind him—she has both legs in the air like she’s pedaling a bike lying down. And gentlemen, when this white man sees what she’s doing it’s like somebody’s reached down and cool-cracked his head with a baseball bat! He’s eyeing her so hard that he’s missed Mister Jessie, but when Mister Jessie yells, ‘You, sir! What the hell are you doing in my establishment!’ he turns away from Miss Duval and says, ‘I know it’s late, but there’s something important I must see you about.’