The Intruder

by Charles Beaumont

  “In 1619 twenty African savages were bought from a Dutch man-of-war by the Virginia settlers. They were taken from a Godless, amoral culture, from the disease-infested jungle where they had lived like wild animals for centuries—for centuries!—and given homes in America. At that time they were put to work with indentured white servants, but it was soon seen that the Negroes­ were only half as capable, although the work required no particular intelligence. Later, with the accretion risen to many thousands, with most of these thousands having been born in the United States, the same fact was observed. The Negroes simply could not be counted on to work. They lacked an abstract quality shared by almost all white people, personal initiative; and, in view of their backgrounds, this was certainly not due to any decrease in their living standards. In Africa, they were slaves to the elements, to their own ignorance, to swift mortality; here they were slaves only to men. If anything, they have been rid of their shackles! It was a perfect climate for self-improvement. But they did not improve. They remained one step removed from the poor savages they or their parents had been.

  “Everyone understood this particular racial characteristic in those days, including the Negroes themselves. We are told that they thirsted for freedom—a concept they could not possibly grasp—yet, throughout all the years of slavery, there were only three insurrections worthy of the name. And these three were abortive, they got nowhere. The Underground Railroad you hear about all the time was, of course, simply a clever business scheme on the part of certain whites. If these white renegades had not fomented unrest, I believe—and so do many sociologists—that there would have been scarcely a handful of voluntary escapes.

  “Now what does this indicate? Clearly it indicates that the Negroes­ were eminently satisfied with their slave status, and that even if they weren’t, they would have done nothing about it.

  “It’s common sense.

  “But we had our fanatics then, just as we do now. We had white Yankees with hero complexes who rushed in, without ever bothering to get the true facts about Negroes, and started yelling ‘Free the slaves! Give the Negroes equality!’ It sounded like a fine sentiment and added inches of height to whoever expressed it. So, the slaves were freed. The Negroes didn’t care, of course. They’d of been just as happy if the decision had gone the other way. But now they were ‘free’ and when a war is fought to get you something, you’ve got to do something with it. Right?

  “When it was too late, people saw that freedom can be just a word. And in the case of the Negroes that’s all it was. A fine-sounding word, meaning absolutely nothing.

  “Most of them stayed on at the plantations, and there might not have been any change whatsoever, except that our white Holy Men got sore. ‘Come on, on your feet!’ they yelled. ‘You’re free, don’t you understand? You can’t just keep on doing the same thing! Go out and get free!’ And they hammered away at the Negroes­ until they managed to convince a lot of them that they were equal. And that’s when the trouble really started.

  “They were like a bunch of baby gorillas in a toy shop, running loose. They spread out and started playing this thing for what it was worth . . . and in a way, I can’t blame them. They didn’t want it. It was forced onto them.

  “You all know what they did to half of Chicago, New York, and all those places where segregation isn’t officially in force. They ruined the neighborhoods, they reduced the level of education in all the mixed schools, they brought filth and disease with them!

  “Now the Supreme Court is trying to force the final ‘freedom’ onto them. Despite the proven, incontrovertible facts which show how nothing but disaster can follow such a move; despite the warnings by prominent sociologists that laziness, lack of initiative, inability to experience strong emotions, lower brain capacity, utter lack of morals—the incapability of distinguishing right from wrong—that these are definitely pure racial characteristics shared by all Negroes since the beginning of time! People who have studied the subject know that integration can never work, for solid factual reasons having nothing to do with prejudice. But the men who sit in our Supreme Court have not studied the subject. They are all unqualified men, all politicians—and, they are determined to ruin the South.

  “If we let it happen here in Caxton, we are opening the door for a true Dark Age, believe me!”

  Adam Cramer looked over the silent, staring group of young men and women, held them another moment with his eyes, and stepped back.

  The applause was a gigantic, spontaneous roar. It continued for almost two full minutes.

  Then Cramer said, “Are there any questions?”

  Ella, who had not listened very carefully, saw Hank Kitchen stand up. She had never seen him look so angry. His face was red.

  “Yes?” Adam Cramer said.

  “Mr. Cramer, that was a real clever speech. And you speak well, too. I don’t. But I think you ought to know that you’re not fooling all of us.”

  “I don’t believe I follow you.”

  “Oh, you follow me, all right. I mean like the way you twisted all the facts just then.” Hank Kitchen turned to face the other young people. “I been studying up a little on this thing, too. And for one thing, what he says about our being so nice to the savages and all and taking them away from the jungle and that stuff, that’s all wrong. The Africans had a very advanced civilization, as a matter of fact—”

  “Who told you that?”

  “I read it in the same books you did, mister. And those insurrections—listen, there were plenty of them. They were going on all the time.”

  “Then why didn’t they succeed?” Adam Cramer asked calmly.

  “Because someone always betrayed them.”

  “Someone?” Cramer said. “Yes. To be exact, the Negro house servants. But I’ve already shown that they are untrustworthy.”

  There was raucous laughter.

  “That’s clever, too,” Hank said. “You’ve managed to walk all round one thing, though. And that’s where it says in the Constitution that all men are created equal . . .”

  “That particular phrase does not happen to include Negroes,” Cramer said. His expression was serene. “At least, that’s what the Supreme Court—the body that can do no wrong—said regarding a certain Dred Scott. ‘A Negro is assumed, prima facie, to be a slave.’ Of course, the Supreme Court had qualified men in those days.”

  Hank Kitchen stood, groping for words. Adam Cramer continued:

  “It’s quite obvious what the phrase meant, because I personally cannot imagine an intelligent group of men making a statement that is biologically and sociologically ridiculous. Can you?”

  “No. I’m not going to argue. I just want you to know that there are some of us who see right through you.”

  “And a good many more,” Adam Cramer said loudly, “who know that I’m right and are willing to show a little American courage!”

  Hank Kitchen sat down. A group gathered around Adam Cramer for a while, then he returned to the booth.

  “They’re good kids,” he said. “You’ll always get a couple like that one, though.”

  “That’s Hank Kitchen,” Danny Humboldt said. “He’s president of the school.”

  Cramer frowned. “Didn’t your grandfather say something about Hank Kitchen, Ella?”

  “I guess he did. We used to go steady.”

  “Oh?”

  “Let’s go,” Ella said. “I’ve got to get home. If you don’t mind . . .”

  Adam smiled. “Sure.” He took her arm, said good-bye to Danny and George and Lucy, waved to the crowd, and stepped outside.

  As they were about to get into the car, Ella heard Hank’s voice. “Wait a second.”

  Cramer turned. “My favorite heckler,” he said.

  “Ella’s my girl, mister. I’m going to take her home.”

  “Really? I think that ought to be up to the young lady, actually. Don’t you?”

  Hank Kitchen took Ella’s arm. “Come on,” he said.

  Ella pulled awa
y. “Just a minute,” she said. She had an instantaneous vision of the two of them fighting over her and everybody watching.

  “Come on. I don’t want you hanging around this creep any longer.”

  “You take your hand off me right this minute!”

  “I’d say,” Adam Cramer said, “that Miss McDaniel isn’t exactly enthusiastic about your plan. Why don’t you go on back and have a beer, and—”

  “Shut up!” The young man in the white shirt took a step. “I listened to your filthy speech at the courthouse,” he said, “and I saw what happened afterwards. I don’t know what you’re after, but I know that you’re nothing but trouble. It wasn’t easy getting this thing going right. But a lot of us worked and it went okay, it was going okay—until you showed up. Now you want to ruin everything. Well, you’re not going to do it.”

  Suddenly Ella saw Adam Cramer step back. She saw something else, something you couldn’t pin down—a softening, a change, anyway, in his features. She knew there wouldn’t be a nice fight. There would only be the rest of the evening spoiled. By Hank.

  “I appreciate the sympathies of anyone who wants to obey the law,” Adam Cramer said, “but you don’t seem to understand—you and that principal, Paton, and some others—that there are ways to beat this and still stay inside the letter of the law. You’re young, Mr. Kitchen. You’re fiery. And that’s good. But make sure of your enemy.”

  “I am sure. It’s you.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were a Southerner.”

  “You thought right.”

  “And you’re for letting the Negroes in the school?”

  “I’m for it; that’s right. All for it.”

  Adam Cramer shrugged. “You can go with him if you want to, Ella,” he said. “Maybe he’s got some dark friends he’d like to introduce you to.” He turned and started inside the car. Hank’s hand darted out and caught his shoulder.

  “Mister, you said you were for violence, if there wasn’t any other way. I’d like to see how much you believe your own words.”

  Adam Cramer glanced at the hand that held him, then at the boy.

  “You look a little scared,” Hank said. “That’s the way those Negroes­ in the car felt.”

  Ella watched transfixed for a moment; then she touched Hank’s arm. “Come on,” she said, “stop it, right now. You’re acting silly.”

  “Move away, Ella.”

  “What are you so mad about?” she said.

  Adam Cramer smiled. “Don’t you know?” he said.

  “No, I don’t. Honestly! I just shouldn’t have gone out at all tonight.”

  “That’s right. That’s why Hank here is mad. Isn’t that so, Hank? I suppose you’ve told everyone that you’re performing a civic duty. But the truth is that ideals and politics have nothing to do with it. You want to fight with me because I’m out with your girl.”

  “That’s a lie,” Hank Kitchen said.

  “You’re afraid of admitting it, so you pretend to oppose my politics. Let’s be honest now, friend. Let’s be honest. As far as the other goes, you’ve been beaten already, and you know it. You heard them in there, you heard them last night, too. The people want me.”

  “You’re chicken,” Hank Kitchen said.

  Adam Cramer continued to smile.

  “I say you’re a lying fake and you’re stirring things up to make a few quick bucks. You’re taking advantage of a girl who’s at least ten years younger than you and not very sharp and she’s falling for it because she thinks you’re a big man. But you aren’t any big man. You’re just a cheap Yankee punk!”

  Adam Cramer did not move.

  He did not breathe hard.

  He stood there, smiling.

  Hank Kitchen made a disgusted sound and turned toward Ella. “Let’s go,” he said.

  Ella found that she was furious, in a way she’d never known. “You just—” she began, but her heart was beating so fast that she couldn’t get the words out.

  “Let’s go, Ella! If you want to make me jealous or that stuff, okay, I’m jealous. Anything. Well?”

  “I hate you!” Ella said. “I’m tired of listening to you and watching you act like a jerk around people and treating me like a— Just don’t even try to talk to me or anything, ever.”

  She ran around to the other side of the car and got in. She slammed the door hard.

  Hank Kitchen walked to Adam Cramer slowly. “You’re lucky this time,” he said. “But if I hear that anything has happened to Ella—and you know what I mean; don’t pretend you don’t, either—if anything like that goes on, I’ll kill you.”

  Adam Cramer moved behind the wheel and turned on the ignition.

  “Ella,” Hank Kitchen shouted, “does your dad know you’re out with this nut?”

  Ella looked the other way and said nothing.

  “I’ll tell him. We’ll see what he has to say about—”

  Adam Cramer dropped the gearshift into low and accelerated swiftly.

  “I’m so embarrassed,” Ella said, “I mean it. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t bother. He’s just fond of you, that’s all.”

  “Oh, he is not. I’ve known Hank for, just for years, and he isn’t fond of me or any other girl. Not really, I mean. I mean, he’s so square all of the time with the football games and the basketball games and being president . . . I haven’t ever seen him like this.”

  It was true. Now that the anger was wearing off, the embarrassed fury, she realized that she hadn’t ever seen Hank this way.

  “I like him,” Adam Cramer said.

  “What?”

  “I said, I like him.”

  Ella shook her head. “Then maybe you are a little nuts. There hasn’t ever been anyone as rude and impolite and nasty as he was to you just then. He acted just like a . . . an animal, or something.”

  “Well, that’s the way it is when you’re in love.”

  “He isn’t in love. For gosh sakes, can’t you get that? He doesn’t know what it is. He never even heard of it. Hank!” Ella felt frightened now that Adam would forget that she was desirable and pretty and, above all, a woman, that he would class her with Hank and those kids with the pimples in Rusty’s.

  Adam Cramer laughed softly. “Forget it, anyway,” he said. “If I can, you ought to be able to.”

  “But the way he acted—”

  “Forget it. Hank’s an intelligent boy, and he’s got a strong mind.”

  “I’ll say. Strong as an ox or something. He’s supposed to be the smartest boy in school—but he certainly didn’t get very far when he tried to argue with you.”

  “You’ve got to remember, Ella,” Adam Cramer said, “that Hank is—how old is he?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Seventeen. He’s still a kid. And for a kid, he did very well.”

  “I suppose that means you think I’m a kid, too.”

  “Not at all,” he said. He kept the car at an even fifty down the dark, narrow road. “Physically and mentally you’re grown. I wasn’t speaking of chronology. I know some thirty-year-old women who are still in their early teens.”

  He paused to remove a cigarette, punch the lighter, suck smoke slowly into his lungs.

  Ella felt the early fear replaced by a better one, the one she had come to thrill at in the minutes before sleep each night. “Well, anyway, I want to apologize for him. Hank and I haven’t been what you’d call close for a long time, he’s not my boy friend and I’m not his girl friend, or anything—but even so, I apologize.”

  “Accepted. Now will you stop huddling over there in the corner? I don’t bite or pinch.”

  Ella moved over and allowed his arm to slip around her shoulder. His fingers touched the flesh of her arm beneath the short-sleeved sweater.

  “Can you drive?” he asked.

  “Sure, a little.”

  “Then you shift for me.”

  Dutifully she shifted from third to first when they stopped at the highway that led over
the bridge.

  Then, with great deliberation, Adam Cramer turned left. Away from town. Away from town and toward the forests.

  He drove for ten minutes, then pulled off onto one of the tiny paths and continued for a mile.

  “When the world ends,” he said, almost in a whisper, “it will sound something like this. Have you ever been alone in some quiet place and pretended everyone else was dead?”

  Ella had, but it was one of her secret thoughts and she was surprised to hear it voiced. “Yes.”

  “Really? Try it now. Close your eyes and think, No one’s left on the earth, no one but us. The cities are empty and the machines have all stopped and there’s only the wind, singing through the buildings . . .”

  Ella pretended.

  “It’s a funny feeling, isn’t it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Adam Cramer lit another cigarette. The smoke had a nice smell, and the little glowing tip of fire excited Ella for some reason. She slowly became all the movie stars she had ever envied from her seat in the dark theatre, and this moment was the fantasy world of her sighs. She could not think of her father and how peculiarly he had been behaving, or of her mother, or even of the strange and complicated things Adam Cramer had been saying. He wasn’t real. He was only a means of showing her, briefly, what lay beyond this town of hers, beyond her years, beyond the tight little knot of her experience.

  She thought none of these things, however, consciously.

  When he turned in the seat and put his arms around her, she made her mind go white of any thoughts at all.

  “Do you want me to kiss you?”

  Ella closed her eyes.

  Adam Cramer parted his lips and pressed them against hers, but not softly this time. She could feel the heat of his body, the moist heat of his mouth.

  Then the kiss became something else.