All-American

by John R. Tunis

  Yes, this was certainly getting hot. First the Courier, then Mr. Swift, and now old man Latham. The bank and the Chamber of Commerce. He looked at Jim and Meyer. They looked back, approval in their faces, and he saw he had them behind him. Ronny and Meyer and Jim. Well, here goes. Here’s the works.

  “There isn’t much to tell, sir. This is our point of view. Y’see, sir, we feel, that is Jim and Meyer and I... and one or two others... we feel on the team it’s pretty darn hard luck on Ned LeRoy, his not getting a chance to go in against Miami next week.”

  Mr. Latham, white-haired, well dressed like Mr. Swift, explained patiently. “My boy, aren’t you Rob Perry’s son? I thought so. Well now, I think I can explain this to you. It seems they don’t permit colored players to compete down there.”

  “Yessir, I know all that, sir. Only we don’t hafta play them, do we?”

  Then Mr. Swift broke in. “You surely wouldn’t want them to break a law of their State just for us, would you, boys?” He looked from one to the other and back again, at Ronny and then at Meyer and at Jim. Ronald hardly knew what to say. He hadn’t realized it was a law. Maybe if it was a law they couldn’t do anything. Then Meyer saved him as he had often done on the field.

  “Are you sure it’s a law, Mr. Swift?”

  He got no answer. Mr. Swift brushed the question aside. “These are all technicalities. But I’ll answer that question of Perry’s. Yes, I’m rather afraid we do have to play them. You see, a thing of this kind isn’t arranged overnight. It takes considerable planning. Now this special train, for instance. Do you boys realize that four to five hundred businessmen from town are going down just to support you on the field? Know what that means? It means about thirty cars—diners, sleepers, club cars, lounges, baggage cars, and so on. You can’t throw a train like that together in an hour. There’s a good many thousand dollars involved in a thing of this sort. D’you understand, boys?”

  The boys understood. Mr. Latham then added his angle. He was, Ronald decided, just another old smoothie. Why was it older folks got that way? “Let me ask you a question, Perry. Do you think it’s better to disappoint one colored boy or forty thousand people?”

  “How d’you mean, sir?”

  “It’s simple. The entire town is heart and soul behind this team. Five hundred citizens putting up their own money to go down to Miami. Moreover the Chamber of Commerce has voted enough cash to enable the drill team to go along at a minimum expense. Now...”

  Mr. Swift, on the edge of his chair, interrupted. Their anxiety over the thing was plain enough, for neither would let the other finish a sentence.

  “Last year we outfitted the band completely. We’re proud of this school. We think it’s the best high school in the State. We’re proud of the team. Naturally you wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt the town, would you? Of course not.” He smiled a fishy kind of smile. Ronald disliked him. He looked at Meyer and Jim and could see they disliked him also. Well, he thought, we’re sticking together.

  Mr. Latham continued his argument. “I said just now it was a question of disappointing one colored boy or forty thousand people in town. Maybe I should have said a hundred and sixty thousand folks here in the County who want to see you go down there and clean up those Southern crackers.”

  It was hard to laugh off, three boys against a hundred and sixty thousand people. Yet he knew it was untrue, he felt it was not so but he couldn’t explain it away. Then help came from an unexpected source.

  “I wonder... I wonder whether we are being quite straight with these boys.” The soft-voiced man behind the desk, who so far hadn’t said a word, spoke up.

  “What do you mean, straight?” Mr. Latham was angry now. He was almost snarling. “The game’s been scheduled. All arrangements have been made with the Central Railroad, all the tickets have been sold. We have to consider the Miami people, you know. We can’t put them in a hole; we have responsibilities toward them.”

  “That’s right,” echoed Mr. Swift with enthusiasm in his voice. “We have a great responsibility toward our opponents. Fair play. Give the other man a chance. That’s one of the elements of sportsmanship. Sportsmanship; must be good sports, you know.” He looked around for approval.

  “True.” The tone was quiet, almost monotonous. “True, but isn’t our first responsibility toward these boys here?” Ronald was amazed at the little man’s persistence. That mild figure behind the desk changed in his eyes; he really had what it takes; he was a fighter after all. And he was for them, on their side, not against them as some principals would have been in his place.

  Ronny looked at his friends, at Meyer and Jim. They were looking toward the man behind the desk and he knew they felt just the way he did.

  “Our real, our only responsibility, it seems to me, is to these boys. They should do whatever they think is right. After all, it’s their game, isn’t it?”

  No one spoke. The atmosphere suddenly became tense. The two businessmen looked outraged. One could see they were used to having their own way and had expected it that afternoon.

  “See here, Mr. Latham. Mind if I ask you a question?” As he said it Ronald wondered at his own audacity. He saw the open-mouthed faces of Meyer and Jim looking at him, the grim visage of the man across the room. Well, here goes. They can’t do any more than kill me. Everyone turned his way, the president of the Chamber of Commerce, the head of the Trust Company, the principal of the school, and his two friends and teammates.

  “Mind if I ask you one question? This is the Abraham Lincoln High. D’you think... d’you guess Abraham Lincoln would like this? Would he say ok, leaving a colored boy off our team when we go to Miami?”

  Nobody replied. Then the president of the Trust Company rose. So did the other man. “My boy, when you get a little older you won’t be so hotheaded, you’ll understand better how these problems work out. We can’t change society overnight. We just have to accept certain injustices and make the best of it. You’ve been told how much money is involved in all this, and how the reputation of the town is at stake. I tell you what I’m going to do.”

  He hesitated a moment and then placed one hand on Jim’s shoulder and the other on Meyer’s. Was it because he was nearer to them or did he feel that Ronald was hopeless?

  “I tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to put this thing right up to you. I’m going to trust you boys to do the right thing in the end.”

  III

  When, on his return from school, his mother informed him that his father wished to see him downtown, he realized there was trouble ahead. He was sure of it when Miss Jessup in the outer office told him to go right in. He was expected.

  From the desk where he sat his father looked up. “Ah! There you are, Ronald. Look here, what’s all this mess about the trip to Miami? Seems as if I’ve heard nothing else all day long. Please tell me about the whole thing, beginning at the beginning.”

  “Why, Dad! We talked it all over. You know about it. I explained it to you night before last.”

  “I know you did, but I’m ashamed to say I didn’t pay a lot of attention. These Intersectional games between high schools are something new since my day.”

  “Well, it’s just this. We’ve had an offer to play an Intersectional game against Miami High. Only we can’t use Ned LeRoy because he’s colored. So Meyer and Jim and I, we feel it’s unfair. See, Dad, Ned’s a right guy, and we don’t want to go without him. The whole team meets tomorrow to vote on whether or not we’ll go. Some of the kids want to go, some of us don’t.”

  “And you’re leading the group who don’t want to go, is that it?”

  There was a kind of note of accusation in his voice. Ronny shifted in his chair. Was he going to have his own dad against him, too? Gee, this was really getting tough. “Uhuh. Yes, Dad, I suppose so.”

  “I see.” The telephone rang. He picked it up. “Who? Who? Oh, yes. All right, put him on. Hullo... hullo, Ed. How are you? Not at all. No bother at all. Why, yes, I do. Yes, he’s right
here now in the office with me. Yes, I presume he is... ha, ha... well, ha, ha... he’s a good boy... did he... did he?...” He winked at Ronald.

  “Oh, yes, I know. Yes, he’s just been talking to me about it. H’m... yes... yes... I see... yes... that is awkward, isn’t it? I know all that, Ed, but... well, Ed, I agree with you; but I’m bound to say I do understand the boy’s angle on this whole thing. What’s that?

  “Well, I’ll be glad to talk to him... certainly I’ll talk to him, but I’m not sure I’ll change his point of view... yes, I’ll be happy to do all I can, but of course in the end he must act as he thinks best... I say he must decide for himself... yes, I do... yes, I will, yes... thank you... good-bye...

  “Whew! That’s what it’s been like all day long. Ronald, my boy, seems as if you’ve rather started something in town. D’ja see the editorial in this afternoon’s Courier? Take a look.” He handed over the folded newspaper. The front editorial was headed:

  “BOLSHEVISM IN HIGH SCHOOL?

  “We understand that the proposed trip of the football team for the Intersectional game against Miami High School which has been scheduled for a week from Saturday is being threatened by a small band of revolutionary students at Abraham Lincoln. Fortunately their number and influence is small; but the mere existence of the movement jeopardizes both the success of the trip and the victory of our team on the field.” As he read down the column Ronald became hotter and hotter, angrier and angrier. “It appears that these young persons do not believe the trip is being handled in a way they like, and claim an injustice is being done to one member of the squad.

  “It is quite evident that manners are not being taught in our public schools today, for these young persons appear to forget that we are going as the guests of the Miami High School. As such we have the obligation to act like guests and abide by the customs obtaining in that city. Already many older people here in town have spent considerable time, energy, and money toward helping the success of the journey. Over a thousand dollars has been voluntarily subscribed by supporters of the eleven to permit the band of forty pieces and the fifteen cheerleaders to make the journey, while the larger part of the expenses of the drill team has also been collected. In view of this fact, and also that between five and six hundred townspeople have signed up with the Central Railroad to make the trip at their own cost merely to support the team in action, we hope the young recalcitrants will come to their senses, and quickly.”

  “But, Dad! Look! That isn’t right. That isn’t it at all. That isn’t right what that man says there.”

  “Don’t worry, Ronald.” He laughed. “Don’t worry about that. I know the background of this. Mr. Swift’s bank, the Trust Company, has a mortgage of half a million on the Courier plant. Old Jamison, the editor, will write anything the bank wants. That means what Swift wants. He wants to have the trip because he—or the bank, or both—is tied up in a lot of real estate that was unloaded on them during the depression. He thinks the trip will be a good advertisement for the town. Pay no attention to it. But just the same, I wonder whether you hadn’t better think seriously...”

  The telephone jangled. In an exasperated tone he replied. “Yes? Who? Latham? Why, yes, put him on. Hullo, Henry.” It was old man Latham, that smoothie! Gee, they were on Dad hot and heavy, weren’t they? Ronny wondered whether Jim’s and Meyer’s fathers were under pressure like this, too.

  “Well, Henry, I think... yes I do... by all means... why, Henry... what’s that?... the railway stands to lose ten thousand if the trip’s canceled? Does... whew! Yes, but the kid seems to think... you do... oh, good, I’d welcome a solution; frankly, I’m... no I don’t much like the whole thing myself...

  “What’s that? A hundred dollars. A hundred dollars to him? Oh, no, I don’t like that at all... looks too much like a bribe to me... no... nope, sorry... well, yes, I’ll be glad to tell Ronald... yes, he’s a good boy... oh, did he?... did he really!” There was an amused laugh, and another wink. “Well, good enough. That’s fine. Yes, I do, I see your position in the matter perfectly... certainly, Henry, I’ll talk to him, but he must do whatever he thinks best... how’s that? What’s that?” His face flushed suddenly. “What’s that... look here, you aren’t hinting, you aren’t suggesting, are you?” Ronald had never seen his dad quite like this before. He leaned into the telephone. “Oh, all right. All right then, Henry. Yes, I’ll talk it over with him. Yes. Good-bye.” He was curt, short. He placed the receiver down with a sharp gesture.

  “Aha! This really goes deep. One of our best clients is the Central Railroad. We’ve done all their work in the County for almost fifteen years. Now Henry Latham is hinting or suggesting, or whatever you want to call it, that if the Miami trip is canceled the railway will lose so much money they’ll have to take the account elsewhere.”

  “You mean, Dad, he’d try to get you to make me change that way?”

  “Oh, no. He’s much too smart to say so. He knows it would make me mad. Just his hints at it made me angry. This thing has really gone deep, though, I confess. I had no real understanding of what was at stake the other night when you spoke about the trip.”

  Nor yet had Ronald. He was solemn now. It started, how? Why, just between Ned LeRoy and himself. The forward passing combination of the Abraham Lincoln team. Then Meyer and Jim were in on it, and then the coach, and then the principal, and now it was dragging in all sorts of people and things; railways, bank presidents, Chambers of Commerce, newspapers, political bosses; why, it was even reaching into Dad’s own business.

  His father swung round in the swivel chair. Looking out of the window with his back toward Ronald, he said:

  “My boy, you’ve attacked something. Without knowing it, without the least intention in the world, you’ve attacked something. You’ve attacked one of the injustices of our American democracy. You’ve also attacked indirectly the commercialism of sport. And whenever you attack anything of that kind, you always find someone behind who’s making money from it.”

  Now Ronny saw. He understood, he realized something of the forces against them. His father continued. “He won’t get far that way with me. I rather imagine he knows it, too. We’re fighters, you and I, Ronald; we don’t scare easy. I guess you’ve got something of your dad in you. I confess now that I’m beginning to think somewhat as you do. Here’s old man Latham’s suggestion. Seems they, that is the crowd running the whole show—Swift and Latham and the rest—have offered Ned LeRoy a hundred dollars to buy some clothes if he stays home. What do you think of that?”

  He was shocked. He was shocked and he was wounded; the idea hurt. “Oh, no, Dad! Why he’s a right guy, Ned is. He only wants to play against Miami. He isn’t interested in a hundred dollars, Dad.”

  “Don’t like it, do you? Good. Neither do I. Glad it hits you that way, Ronald.” The telephone rang. He turned and put his hand over the receiver, and before he replied, said: “This is the way it’s been all day long. I haven’t done a lick since nine this morning. Everyone in town has been on me because of you and this Miami trip.” He picked up the receiver. “Yes? Who? Oh, yes...”

  He did the strangest thing. Putting the receiver back, he rose and strode into the outer office. Ronald watched him in amazement, heard his voice greeting somebody. In a minute he returned with a stranger. The stranger, short, dark, with black hair and glasses, had a cigar in one hand. He greeted Ronald like an old friend, seizing his hand and congratulating him on his play in the Academy game. Then Ronny recognized the man. It was Meyer’s father, the head of Goldman and Straus, Gent’s Furnishings and Clothes.

  “Sit down. Sit down, Mr. Goldman. Sit down, we’re right in the middle of the thing. I was just saying to my boy here they’ve been on my neck all day long. First one person then another.”

  “Same here. What’s this about, anyhow? Folks downtown been dropping into the store all day, telling me my boy is trying to spoil the football trip to Miami. Mr. Perry, you wouldn’t believe...”

  “Oh, yes, I
would. I’ve had ’em in here...”

  “But the whole town is after me now. I’m right there on Main Street, easy to get at. What’s it all about, that they should make such a fuss over a football game, Mr. Perry? You wouldn’t believe the things they’ve told me.”

  “Yes, they’re anxious, all right.”

  “The Trust Company calls up and tells me how I’d better make sure Meyer gets to go on the trip, or else, they hint, they might foreclose on our mortgage. I can pay that off, but it isn’t easy to find a good place like that corner there on Main and State Streets. I got mad, Mr. Perry, when he said that. I got real mad.”

  “No wonder. They tried pressure on me, too. Most likely on young Stacey’s father also. Maybe you’d better explain what it’s all about to Mr. Goldman, Ronald.”

  “It’s simply this, Mr. Goldman. You saw the Academy game. You saw that colored boy, Ned LeRoy, our left end. Well, now it seems if we go down to Miami he can’t play.”

  “Ah... sooo...” His large black eyebrows rose.

  “No. And Meyer and Jim and me, why, we think it’s unfair to leave him up here, that it’s a dirty trick to do a thing like that.”

  “Ah...”

  His father interrupted. “Let me say that at first I felt the boys’ position was untenable. I felt they were bucking the inevitable, so to speak; that it was hard luck on everyone concerned, but something you couldn’t hope to change. I felt they were all wrong to make an issue of it. Well, they’ve made me change my mind, the boys have, and these people downtown, too. All day long they’ve been on my neck from one source or another.”

  “Oh, but Mr. Perry, you’re up here on the eighth floor. I’m down there at the corner of Main and State. Everybody drops in, it’s just a corner store.” The cigar waggled in Mr. Goldman’s hand.