“Thank you! Thank you all! Please! Please! Be seated! Let me begin by telling you how proud I am to see you all taking part in this Third International Convention. It’s good to know that the naysayers out there haven’t managed to break our spirit.”
There were mostly cheers, but the angry shouts could not be ignored. A battle of emotions was brewing.
“I want to respond to all of the fuss going around about my meeting with the Klan. Every paper I read seems hell-bent on misrepresenting the encounter. So let me set the record straight. As you all know, I’ve never been one to run from my enemies.”
Quite a bit of the crowd stood at this point, but more than a few remained seated. I’d never seen so many of his supporters hold back their enthusiasm. But none of it appeared to ruffle him. He gripped the sides of the podium and spoke with great intensity.
“But the Imperial Wizard is not my enemy. He wants what’s best for his people and I want what’s best for mine. In fact, the Klan simply represents the invisible government of the United States.”
Agent 800 and I looked at each other upon hearing those bold words, each of us raising our eyebrows. We were probably thinking the same thing: Whatever good feelings Garvey had been trying to create between himself and President Harding’s government had vanished into thin air.
“No . . . my enemies are over at the NAACP. They’re over at the Messenger. They’re all over Harlem. In fact, many of my enemies are sitting behind me on this stage. Don’t think I’m blind to that fact. But I’ll get to that in a minute.”
He was referencing his executive council. None of them budged, but a hush came over the crowd. I was focused on James. Everyone in the building was aware of how outspoken he’d been about Garvey while he was traveling. But I was certain James welcomed the potential showdown. Several in the audience were probably behind him anyway. He sat there patiently as Garvey continued.
“Regarding this Klan issue. You are well aware that I’ve never had any intentions of joining the white man. That is the dream of that other so-called Negro and his ring of circus clowns over at the NAACP. And if I have no intentions of joining the white man, there’s no harm in talking to them. Listen up! Let not my words be mixed up. America is theirs. Africa is ours. Yes, I said it. Print that, Mr. A. Phillip Randolph . . . Mr. William Du Bois! I said this in New Orleans and I’ll share it with you: This is a white man’s country. He found it, he conquered it, and we can’t blame him if he wants to keep it. I am not vexed with the white man of the South for Jim Crowing me because I am black. I never built any streetcars or railroads. The white man built them for his own convenience. And if I don’t want to ride where he’s willing to ride then I’d better walk.”
Disapproving hisses could be heard throughout. I wondered why he was going down this road, seemingly doubling down on his losing hand. A. Phillip Randolph had recently called him a “half-wit, low-grade moron,” and the more he spoke, the more I wondered how many others would soon agree.
“Between the Ku Klux Klan and the NAACP,” he said, “give me the Klan for their honesty of purpose toward the Negro. They are better friends of my race . . . for telling us what they are . . . and what they mean.”
More hisses flooded the hall.
“This is my position,” he said. “These are the facts. Those of you who boo me can join those backstabbing former members of my executive council who chose to resign. That’s fine with me. It’s time to clean house anyway. Time for a fresh start! Many members of my executive council chose not to resign. And there they sit.”
Garvey kept his body facing the audience, but casually turned his head and glared at his council.
“And amongst them are men who like to badmouth me while I’m out of town. Well, I’m laying down the gauntlet right here and now. Any one of you can feel free to step forward and address this hall right in front of me.”
With that, Garvey walked over and took a seat. Again, a hush came over the hall and everyone waited to see if anyone would step forward. They didn’t have to wait long. James stood and approached the podium. Many cheered, others jeered, but my friend was more stoic and determined-looking than ever.
“I welcome this opportunity to address you, brothers and sisters,” he said. “Please lend me your ears. The time has come to testify. For it is only God above that I fear.”
“PREACH, BROTHER EASON!” shouted several throughout.
“GOD IS WITH GARVEY!” screamed a man up front.
“THAT’S RIGHT, WE WITH GARVEY!” yelled others.
“Loyalty is a funny word,” said James, his words being met with sprinkles of applause. “And loyalty is a two-way street!”
“GARVEY! GARVEY! GARVEY!” the chant began, but it didn’t dissuade James. He waited for it to die down.
“I remember the days when the UNIA wasn’t afraid to make it known that we were willing to combat any group, especially the Ku Klux Klan, in order to defend our rights as Negroes. They knew we’d be willing to use our fists if it came down to it. Some of us still feel this way.”
“PREACH!” yelled several.
“I remember the sign that used to hang right out front that said, ‘We are ready for the Ku Klux Klan.’ And again, we were. But now we must come to terms with the unfathomable truth that our leader has met with the Imperial Wizard, an act that I cannot condone. You all know me. I speak for the U.S. brothers and sisters, and I was honored to be given the high-ranking position of UNIA Leader of the American Negroes. I thank you here publicly for bestowing upon me that honor, President Garvey. But I question your actions.”
He turned and looked at Garvey. The stare-down lasted several seconds before the crowd began to yell and scream at James with disapproval. They didn’t like seeing their president challenged, no matter the cause, and had never seen anyone speak out publicly against him, especially someone like James, who many argued was the second most powerful man within the UNIA.
“I speak only what is in my heart,” said James. “And I will not resign as some of my colleagues have. I understand that you, Brother Garvey, have privately suggested to several delegates that I am not fit to lead the American Negro . . . that I am incompetent. I say . . . right here before this body . . . that it is your competence that should be called into question.”
A collective deep breath could be heard from the throng.
“I request that you disprove this charge of incompetence in front of this convention’s delegates. No more secrecy! I request a trial in the coming days, before this convention comes to a close. Let the international delegation decide my fate.”
“YOU’RE FINISHED!” screamed someone.
“YOU’RE A TRAITOR!” yelled another.
“GARVEY! GARVEY! GARVEY!” the hall began again.
My friend bravely stood there at the podium and waited for them to quiet down once more, but they didn’t. In fact, Garvey’s supporters would make sure those were the last words James spoke that night. He finally realized what he was up against and headed back to his seat.
I’d seen enough and headed upstairs to the exit. My God, how they shouted. So much so that the walls along the dark stairwell began to shake. It felt as if the noise was going to blow the roof off of Liberty Hall that night.
30
I ARRIVED HOME AROUND DINNERTIME LATER THAT NIGHT. ENTERING through the kitchen, I grabbed a sugar cookie from the counter and nibbled on it for a bit before walking into the living room.
I sat my briefcase down on the couch, loosened my tie, and noticed several suitcases by the front door. The house was quieter than usual. I stood there looking in each direction, absorbing the scene.
Turning to my left and looking up at the top of the stairwell, I saw the bottom of Loretta’s legs. They were still. Then, as if on cue, she began to move. I noticed her black dress and high heels. Had I forgotten about an event we were supposed to attend? It certainly wasn’t our anniversary or either of our birthdays.
She arrived at the base of the stairwel
l and looked directly at me, her face covered in tears. I wanted to run and grab her, but couldn’t move.
“What happened?” I asked.
She held out some sheets of paper, waiting for me to come and grab them. I did, wondering if someone had sent news of a death in the family. But what I grabbed were two large photographs and a newspaper clipping. I took one look and recognized that the lie I’d been telling her for three years had finally come to an end.
“Where did you get these?” I asked, eyeing the picture of the official agent contract I’d signed.
“A man came by here and gave me these pictures and these press clippings. He said you’ve been an agent with the Bureau of Investigation since 1919. Is it true, Sid? The man photographed in that newspaper clipping is certainly the same man you’re shaking hands with in the other picture. And you’re holding a Bureau badge, for Christ’s sake!”
“Give me a second here. I need you to try—”
“Please don’t lie to me. The truth. At least give me that. The article says that man runs the Bureau of Investigation in Washington. And that’s absolutely your signature.”
“Would you hold on just a minute? Calm down.”
“Is it true?”
“You’re obviously already convinced that it is.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong. Am I wrong?”
A dozen thoughts ran through my mind, but I was tired of lying. In fact, I was just plain tired.
“No,” I said. “You’re not wrong.”
There was a long bit of nothing and then she asked, “How could you do this to me, Sidney?”
“Let me explain.”
She put her hand up to keep me from saying another word and dropped her head. I’d never seen her this inconsolable. Her light cry turned to an intense, shaking one. I walked over and wrapped her up.
“It’s not what you think, Loretta.”
She began trying to break free, but I kept my arms locked.
“You let go of me!” she yelled, squirming away, the sound of her voice becoming nasal.
I released her and she took a big step back, slipping a bit on the hardwood floor. Her sadness had sharply turned to anger. Her eyes were cold, her nose runny.
“You’ve been lying to me, your mother, James, and on and on. Our life is a lie.”
“Wait a minute!”
“Through it all, the loss of Daddy, moving your mother and aunt, buying this house, making new friends, losing our child, the one person I put my trust in was you.”
“You can still trust me.”
“There were even moments when the only reason I wanted to keep going was my love for you. And that was based one hundred percent on knowing I knew exactly who you were. That gave my life meaning. And now all of that is gone. None of what you did for me was ever about me. It was about fooling me so you could help yourself.”
“That’s not true. I love you more than anything. I’m doing all of this for us. Not for me. For all of us.”
“Who is us, Sidney?”
“Our people.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“I had to protect you.”
“Can you even protect yourself?”
“What?”
“The man who stopped by here may have something to say about that.”
“Who?”
“He told me to give you a message.”
“What?”
“He said to finish the job and call the phone number he gave you or things will get worse. What does that even mean for God’s sake, Sidney? Finish what job?”
“He wants me to frame Garvey.”
“Or things will get worse? When did you think it might be okay to tell me our lives were in danger?”
“They’re not.”
“At least now I know why you never wanted to discuss your job, why you never introduced me to anyone, why we never got a house telephone.”
“Never introduced you to anyone? You know James. You know—”
“STOP!”
Her shouting startled me. I looked over at the suitcases again and felt my heart speed up.
“Where are you going?”
“I waited until you got home before leaving because I wanted to find out that it all might somehow not be true.”
“I said where are you going?”
“This house makes me sick. I can’t think. I can’t breathe.”
“Then we will leave. We’ll go to Vermont. Tomorrow.”
“I’m staying with Ginger until I can decide what to do next.”
“When are you coming back?”
“I’m not. We may go to Paris.”
“You can’t,” I said, reaching out and grabbing her wrist.
“I can and I will!” she screamed, yanking her arm away.
“What about the house?”
“That’s the last thing I care about. Do what you want with it.”
“I’ve never heard you talk like this. Just listen to me. Calm down and let’s talk about this. It’s me. We’ve been through hell and back together. This is too much too fast. Please. We love each other.”
“Don’t mention love to me. Love is trust. Trust is love. There’s nothing more to talk about.”
Her glare was piercing. I’d watched her live under the cloud of her father’s death for three years and had happily watched that cloud disappear. Now, all at once, it was back, but even darker. I realized she might never find her way out from under it this time.
We continued looking at each other until there was a knock at the door. She ignored it for a few seconds as I begged her with my eyes. Neither of us had any words left. After another knock she opened it and there stood Ginger.
“Are you ready?” she asked, her French accent never more pronounced.
“Yes,” said Loretta.
Ginger stepped inside and didn’t look at me. They each grabbed two suitcases as I took a deep breath and tried to grasp what was happening. Ginger quickly walked out, but Loretta stopped at the doorway. She turned and looked back at me, her bloodshot eyes telling me one more time how deeply I’d hurt her. Then, just like that, she was gone.
31
WITH THE SUN BARELY RISING AND MOST OF HARLEM STILL ASLEEP, I sat in my office the next morning thinking about how I could have done it all so differently, without lying to her. But I’d thought I could pull the whole thing off without her ever getting hurt. And in the end, I thought I’d be okay living with the lie, especially considering I would have assured a better life for her and our children, a segregation-free one.
I watched the Bureau telephone on my desk ring and ring, knowing that if I picked it up it would put me right back in the middle of the mess, force me to deal once again with the web I was entangled in. I picked it up.
“Q3Z,” I answered.
“Rise and shine,” said Speed. “Shit, now I know when to catch you. You’re a fuckin’ early bird like me. What’s the latest?”
“Eason is likely going to be forced out,” I answered. “Garvey doesn’t trust him anymore. And you’ve heard about the KKK meeting, I assume?”
“All over the fuckin’ papers. That calculating motherfucker is always . . . well . . . calculating. What’s his angle on this, Q?”
“Can I get back to you on that? He’s obviously trying to curry favor with a demographic powerful enough to raise eyebrows in Washington. I can hear those bigots now . . . telling D.C. to ‘leave their well-meaning Negro alone.’ You know? Your type of people, Speed.”
“Fuck you straight to hell, Q. You’re lucky Hoover needs your black ass.”
“You see! There you go. Proving my point.”
“Well, I don’t hear you saying a damn thing solid. All I hear you saying is, ‘It may be this and it may be that.’ It’s your job to find out his exact motive. Hell, I can sit around speculating and guessing.”
“Give me a few days.”
“Days, not weeks on this, okay, Q?”
“Got it,” I said, hanging up the phone, know
ing I wasn’t going to lift a finger the rest of the day. I just wanted to think and stay out of sight. I reached in my briefcase and took out the slip of paper with the Timekeeper’s phone number on it. He was probably waiting for me to call with the news that I’d finally planted the evidence.
Was Speed on the Timekeeper’s team? Of course I wondered. But how would that change my position? Or was it Hoover alone sending the Timekeeper, keeping Speed and the others out of the loop? Or was it exactly as the Timekeeper had claimed—that his organization simply had a mole inside the Bureau that no one in D.C. knew about?
All I knew was that I had to look at this obstacle as one man. This game of chicken was between him and me. And this approach to thinking about it would allow me to focus because I wasn’t about to quit. In fact I was beyond angry that the bastard had involved Loretta. I’d be damned if I was gonna give in to his demands now.
Hell, with her gone I felt a lot less fear. Besides, I just knew it was this Timekeeper’s final play, and that I was still a man of too much value to whoever was pulling these strings. Outing me to Garvey served no one’s purpose. However, part of me could see Hoover guessing that such a threat would have rattled my cage, for he was a man who thought me far too simple.
* * *
I walked in the house that evening and found a letter from Loretta on the dining room table. It simply read:
I have decided that the best thing for me to do is leave the country. Ginger was planning to move back to Paris in January, but she pushed it up as a favor to me. I don’t feel safe here and I ask that you please try to understand. I’m taking control of my life and you must grant me that. I hope you haven’t involved yourself in something you can’t get out of, but please be careful. I will be leaving in a week. Please don’t try to stop me, as it will only cause both of us more hurt. I have taken only what I need out of the bank and leave the house to you. Good-bye, Sidney.
The pain was too much, but I knew she was justified in not feeling safe, even though I figured she was. The Timekeeper had only made this move to scare me into thinking he might hurt her. He’d miscalculated.
The Strivers' Row Spy Page 28
