"Well," she told me, "you get a good night's sleep. Mother has to go to work."
"Where do you work?”
"Anywhere I have to," she said. "Anywhere I can.”
I was dog-tired and the bed was like an oasis. I woke up the next afternoon. It was almost one o'clock. I took a shower, got dressed, and went to find something to eat. Then i went back to the hotel and knocked on Miss Shirley's door. She opened the door with a razor in her hand. I almost fainted. She was shaving her face. Miss Shirley was a man. When she saw my reaction, she fell out laughing.
"You got a lot to learn, sugar. Ya got a lot to learn." We both sat there laughing up a storm. Somehow, it was funny as hell.
I went to work early that afternoon. The job wasn't bad and i could eat all i wanted, which meant i didn't have to buy dinner. The tips weren't that much, but i'd be able to live on them until the guy came back.
Any Black woman, practically anywhere in amerika, can tell you about being approached, propositioned, and harassed by white men. Many consider all Black women potential prostitutes. In the Village, this phenomenon was ten times worse than elsewhere. It was almost impossible to go from one corner to the next without some white man hissing at you, following you, or jingling the money in his pockets. One morning in the park, i met a couple, about my age, from Harlem, who had run away from home and were now living in a room in the Village. I told them that i had run away, too, and we became instant comrades. We got into a discus sion about how white men are always approaching Black women.
"Yeah," they giggled, "but we got something for they ass." "Yeah?" i asked.
"Yeah. We fix them right up.”
"How?" i asked. Then they told me. The Murphy game was their game. They told me how it worked and i fell out laughing. I thought it was a brilliant scheme.
"You want to try it? I know them ofays'll dig you."
I was anxious to try this new scheme because it was "big" money and i would be able to pay Miss Shirley back and get a real place of my own. The first night, after my job was over, i met Pat and Ronnie in the park. Pat and i were the bait and Ronnie was the protection. We were all to walk separately on different sides of the street so that we could see each other. I had dressed up and put on makeup to look older. About five minutes after we started walking, a white man came up to me. He said he liked the way i walked and wanted to take me someplace.
"I'm on my way to a party," i told him. "It's going to be a real hot party."
"Yeah? What kind of party is it going to be?”
"What kind of party would you like it to be?”
"A party for two," he said.
"I know a place where they've got some very nice private rooms and they're not too expensive. It's a private club. You've gotta join first."
"How much does it cost?"
"Fifteen for the room, fifteen to join the club, and fifteen for the babysitter."
"You don't look old enough to have a kid.”
"The babysitter's for my little sister.”
We argued about the price. He thought it was too high. I kept telling him how he was getting a deal and that, once he joined, he would be a member for a year and could go there anytime he wanted and get some action. Finally he agreed to pay. When we got to the building, i told him to give me the money so i could go upstairs and pay the people.
"By the way," i said, "would you tell me what kind of work you do? These people are very particular about who joins their club."
"I work for a bank." I could see from his face he was lying. "I'll be right back. Don't you go nowhere.”
I ran up the stairs and opened the door to the roof. Carefully, i closed it behind me. Then i went over about ten roofs until i came to the one i was supposed to come down from. I tried the door. It wouldn't budge. Somebody had locked it. I went to the next roof.
Luckily, the door opened. I ran down the stairs and came out around the corner from where the man was standing. Hurriedly, i walked to where i was supposed to meet Pat and Ronnie.
"How'd it go?" they asked.
"Easy as pie," i answered.
"Okay, let's do another one." I was scared to try another one because i was scared i would run into the man again.
"We can go up around 14th Street. We've got another building staked out around there.”
"Okay," i told them, "but let's check it out first." I explained about the door that wouldn't open. We got to the new place, checked it out, then went to 14th Street. In a matter of twenty minutes Pat and i had each caught a fish. I was worried to death we would bump into each other. I rushed my man to the building, got the money, and hurried to the meeting place. I waited and waited. It seemed like an eternity until they came. Pat had seen me with my man and had the good sense to go to a different building than the one I took my man to. We were all in high spirits.
"See how easy it is?" Pat asked me.
"Yeah. It's a breeze.”
We split up the money. We had each made $45. I rushed back to the hotel. Miss Shirley was there and we went up to her room for a drink. I felt like a millionaire. I had the money i had made working in the cafe plus the $45. I whipped out my bankroll and paid Miss Shirley back.
"Now, girl, I know you ain't got no rich uncle. How'd you get all that money?"
I told her everything. I thought i was so slick.
"Girl, is you crazy? Do you know what one of these men will do to you if they find you in the street? Girl, these people out in this street don't give a damn about you. This street will eat your ass alive. Honey, I know what I'm talking 'bout. You done run away, ain't you?"
"Yeah," i told her. "I ran away."
"I knew it all the time. Well, honey, I can't make you go home. If I tried, you'd only run away again, but you're wasting your time and your life out here. These people don't care nothin' 'bout you. All they want to do is suck your blood. You a smart girl. What you need to do is go home and finish school."
"I'm never going home."
"Well, if you insist on staying out here in these streets, you better start acting like you got some sense. Don't you never let nobody use you and make a fool outta you. What if one of those men had been a crazy man and followed you upstairs? What if the other door had been locked and you hadn't been able to get out? Where was your so-called protection? You mean to tell me that you gon risk your life for fifteen dollars? Girl, this Village ain't nothin' to play around with. They got some crazy mens around here that is killing up young girls like you and one of 'em cuts their titties off. Girl, as far as I can see, that young boy Ronnie don' wanna be nothin' but a pimp. He ain't done one thing to earn that money. You better start to use your head."
I could see Miss Shirley knew what she was talkin' about. "But what am i gonna do, Miss Shirley? You know how hard it is to find a job."
"Don't worry, honey, I'll come up with something."
The next day when i went down to the lobby, Freddie was behind the desk. "I hear you're lookin' for a job," he said.
"Uh-huh. “
"You know anything about bein' a barmaid?”
"No," i told him.
"Well, ya go over to this place, Tony's, on 3rd Street and ask for a guy named Chuck. Tell him i sent you.”
"Thanks. Thanks a lot." I went over to Tony's and talked to Chuck. "Do you have any openings?" i asked him.
"Sure, we always have openings for foxes like you." He laughed. "Do you know the setup?”
"No."
"Fifteen dollars a night and you get a quarter for each drink and a dollar for each bottle of champagne."
I looked at him blankly.
"Your job is to sit and look pretty and keep the customers happy and buying. You work from eight in the evening to four in the morning when the place closes. What you do after that is your business. Just don't make any deals on the premises."
"Yes," i answered warily.
"Well, then, see you tonight.”
When i got back to the hotel, i told Miss Shirley about my new job. "Al
l right, honey, but you be real careful. There are a whole lot of crazy peoples 'round here. And you keep looking for a real job so you can go to school at night. Now, come on upstairs and let me show you how to put your face on. You look like a two-bit hoe."
At ten to eight i was at Tony's. Chuck was there and introduced me to the barmaid. Her name was Joyce. "Come here for a minute, honey," she told me and went to the end of the bar. I followed her.
"You like whiskey sours?"
"I guess so. I never had one."
"Whatever you do, don't get drunk. I'm going to make your drinks without the whiskey. If a customer come in and I know he's the suspicious type, I'll make you a real one. If you want a drink with the whiskey in it, just order with your hands folded. There's not too much I can do about the champagne. I'll try to keep pouring it into the man's glass. But it's not too bad and the bottles are small."
"Okay. Thanks."
I went to the bar and sat down. In a few minutes a couple of white guys came in. They sat two seats down from me and kept looking in my direction.
"Would you like a drink?" one said.
"Okay," i answered.
"What are you drinking?”
"A whiskey sour." And so began what seemed like a never ending parade of whiskey-less whiskey sours. It got so that even the smell of the stuff made me sick. Once in a while i would ask the barmaid to put some whiskey in one, but i have never been much of a drinker.
Most of the customers were white men who were looking for some action. I found most of them to be crude, boring, and creepy. I would sit there, making up different stories to tell them just to keep myself amused. Another object of these stories was to get them to spend as much money as possible. If i thought that the man would go for a sob story and hand over some money, i would tell him a real tearjerker. Other times i pretended to be a college girl going to NYU. This made them less likely to be bold. When i played a college girl, i usually said i was a math major because people never know the first thing about math. One night, though, after i told this guy my math major story, he asked me some questions about integrals and imaginary numbers. I didn't have the faintest idea what the guy was talking about. It turned out he taught math at NYU.
"I know you're lying," he told me.
"Of course, i am. Who in the hell is going to be interested in the life of a waitress?"
The guy broke out laughing. "That deserves a drink," he said. "Bring the lady another drink." After that, the guy (i called him Mr. Math) came by every so often to hang out. He would buy drinks and we would sit there cracking jokes.
"How's your thesis going?" he would ask.
"Fine," i'd answer. "I'm doing a chronological study about the social significance of two and two equaling four."
I had a few other regulars. Most of them came in to tell me their troubles. They either had wife trouble or job trouble. Some were drunks who just wanted somebody to drink with, and others just liked the challenge of trying to seduce a young girl.
A lot of the other girls were prostitutes. The few who weren't were either just out to make some extra money or they were alcoholics. Most of the women were very nice and protective of me. The prostitutes liked me because i was always sending them business and was always discreet about it. Soon i made friends with the guys in the jazz quartet that worked there regularly. I've always loved jazz and i would clap and shout and let them know i enjoyed the music. The piano player and i became especially tight. I called him my big brother and he was very protective of me. When the place closed, he and maybe one or two of the group would walk me home. If it was raining, he would send me home in a cab. Closing time was the roughest time of all. Some of the men thought that buying drinks entitled them to more than conversation. But Chuck was a good bouncer and could spot a problem before it became serious. If a guy was getting out of hand, Chuck would approach him, tell him that i was the sister of one of the guys in the band and that if he didn't treat me with respect, he would let him have it.
At times some real freaks and weirdos hung out there. There was one guy who had bought the panties of almost every woman who worked at Tony's, paying them each $15. I asked him what he did with them. He laughed and told me he hung them on the walls of his apartment. When i told one of the other girls, she laughed.
"Girl, you believe that? That guy takes them home and holds them over his nose. He's a sniff freak."
But any woman at Tony's had to be careful. Some of the men who came around were real dangerous. On nights when things were slow and there were no customers in the place, the women would tell horror stories about all the crazy men they had run into.
I was big for my age and well built and, with all the makeup i wore, i could usually pass for eighteen. I told everybody i was nineteen. The white people never questioned my age, but the Black people would, sooner or later, realize i was younger than i let on. Some of them even guessed i had run away and would take me to the side and encourage me to go home. After a while, all the women who worked at the place teased me about not having a boyfriend.
"This girl don't like men and she don't like women. Here's a girl that let's her fingers do the walking!"
When they teased me i wanted to crawl into a crack somewhere and hide. The more embarrassed i became, the more they laughed. A new bass player came to work for the band and i developed an instant crush on him. I was convinced i was in love. In a short time, everybody knew about my crush. But the bass player paid me no mind at all. I did everything i could think of to attract his attention, but he just ignored me. Near closing time, his white girlfriend would come and they would leave together. I hated her. She looked so smug. One weekday night, it was pouring rain outside and the place was empty. The bass player said to me, "I'm writing a song for you. You want to hear it?" I could have fainted. I was grinning from ear to ear.
"Yes, i'd like to hear it."
Da da da ta ta da da de de.
Da da da ta ta da da de de deJailbait! Da da da ta ta da da de de,
Da da da ta ta da da de de de Jailbait!"
The rest of the group chimed in, "Jailbait, jailbait," and the whole place cracked up. I could have died right then and there. That was the end of my crush. When i thought about it later, though, it was funny.
A lot of the Black men that i met in the Village were hung up on white women. Some of them would come right out and tell you, "Man, i can't dig no spade chick. Gimme an ofay every day." When i asked them why, they said white women are sweeter, Black women are evil; white women are more understanding, Black women are more demanding. One of the things that really infuriated me was when they called Black women sapphire. "You know how you nigga women are, sapphire, evil." A lot of these guys would have trampled over my face just to get to a white woman.
At times, i really got sick of being around so many grown people. I'd either sneak back into my oId neighborhood or hang out with Pat and Ronnie. One night they were going to a party uptown. I was dying to be with kids my own age, so i told Chuck i was taking the night off. When we got to the party, it was dull and tired, so Pat and Ronnie went off to find some reefer. They loved the stuff, but i was scared of it. I waited and waited for them to get back. I started to talk to a boy, who seemed really nice, about how dull the party was. He said he knew of a boss party that was going to be happening later. I waited for Pat and Ronnie to come back, but they never did.
"Why don't you come to the party with me?" the boy asked. "It's at my house and I'm sure you'll have a good time."
Finally i said i would go. He seemed so nice. He lived in some projects near Spanish Harlem. When we got to his house, no one was there. I started to leave, but he said his friends were all at a ball game and they would be there afterward. In a little while, the doorbell rang and, sure enough, all these people came in. After a minute i noticed they were all boys.
"Excuse me," the boy said. Then they all went into another room for a minute. When they returned they were whispering and talking under their breaths and i could
tell that they were up to something.
"Where are the girls?" i asked. "Oh, they're coming." One came and sat next to me. He put his hand on my leg. I moved it away.
"Come on, baby, why you wanna act like that?"
"Come here, man," one of them said. I could sense that something was wrong. I didn't know what they were up to, but i knew they were up to something. I picked up my pocketbook and my sweater.
"I'll have to be going.”
"No, baby, you ain't goin' nowhere.”
"I've got to go." I started walking toward the door. One of them grabbed my arm and yanked me away from the door.
"Sit your ass down, bitch. We've got plans for you.”
I knew it now. They were going to rape me. I had heard people talking about "trains," but i had never thought it would happen to me. I sat still for a minute. Then i made a wild break for the door. They tried to grab me and i fought like hell. The fight didn't last too long, though, because in a minute they had me held down on the floor. They were pulling up my skirt and taking my blouse off. I cried and screamed.
"Shut up, bitch," one of them said, slapping my face. I begged them for mercy. I told them i was a virgin.
"There's always a first time, baby," someone sneered. I begged and pleaded. I cried and cried. I couldn't believe they could be so heartless. But they were. The boy who brought me there was arguing with another boy about who would be first. I couldn't believe it. It was a nightmare. They were arguing and carrying on as if i wasn't even human, as if i was some kind of thing. I felt so scared and betrayed. I had trusted this boy. The argument between them was heated. I hoped they would fight and kill each other. I kept begging for mercy, pleading with them. They paid me no attention. One of them came over to me as if he felt sorry for me.
"Don't worry, baby, it won't hurt. You'll see. You'll like it."
"Okay," i heard the boy who had brought me there say, "you can go first, man," and the other boy started toward me. I jumped up and tried to run, but i was cornered. One tried to grab me and, in the process, he knocked over an ashtray.
Assata: An Autobiography Page 14
