Judge Airey scrutinized the letter, squinting to read Levi’s chicken scratch. When he looked up, he fixed his gaze on Cora.
“Miz Manning, is what Mr. Manning says true? Have you associated with Negroes on Grebey Island?”
Cora glanced at Mr. Potter, then back at the judge.
“Your honor, the Negro families who live on Grebey Island have helped me operate the farm over the past three and a half years. They’ve included us in arrangements they have to transport tomatoes, watermelons, and other vegetables on the river. They’ve shown us ways to make a living on a farm that barely got by before. To be honest, if it weren’t for the Stanleys and the others, my son and I would probably be in the poor house.”
Cora hesitated for a moment, took a breath, and charged ahead.
“They’re our friends.”
###
“It’s as beautiful as you described,” Professor Handy said. “How did it come to be called Grebey Island?”
“The man who ran the general store, Mr. Mauck, told us it was named for one of Lewis and Clark’s original crew. They were headed to St. Louis to begin their expedition. Grebey saw the island and liked it so much he quit the expedition, bought it, and settled here.”
“The entire island? That’s got to be almost ten thousand acres.”
“Yes sir, just about that. Over time he had requests to sell off parts of the island. He sold what is now our homestead first, then after he died, his family sold off more. The town got started, and it took off from there.”
“How did Manning come to own the largest acreage?”
“Mr. Mauck knew about that, too. Mr. Manning’s great-great grandfather bought the entire south end from Grebey’s family. The story goes that they bought it sight unseen. They were from St. Louis, had a lot of money, and wanted to live in the country. Supposedly they got here and discovered their land was overrun with ticks, snakes and skunks.”
Professor Handy cackled. “Oh boy, that had to be a surprise.”
“I guess so. It took them the better part of a decade to make it tillable. Mr. Mauck said between the cost of clearing land and having to live off the proceeds from their businesses in St. Louis, the Mannings almost went broke.”
They drove past the Dobson place and continued toward Harvester’s family home. Between Professor Handy’s questions and Harvester’s running commentary, the conversation never lagged.
“Our farm begins right here.” Harvester motioned to a marker near the road. “Not that it matters. Everybody helps everybody else. Property lines get blurry after a while.”
“A commendable arrangement. Can we make the full circle?”
“Certainly.” A couple minutes later they came up on the Mueller farm.
“This is the place I told you about. Mr. Mueller’s house was burned to the ground. Mr. Dobson was hanged for it, but everybody knows he didn’t do it. The good news, at least if the rumors are true, is that the Mueller farm has been bought by some men who plan to start a college. We’re not sure what that means and how it’ll impact the rest of us.”
They rode in silence through the crumbling remains of Grebey Township before Harvester turned toward home.
“That’s it. You’ve seen the entire island. Now I’ll introduce you to Daddy and Mama.”
Professor Handy smiled and checked his watch. “High noon.”
“Yessir. Mama’ll have lunch on. No crawdads though. Sorry.”
###
It was noon when Judge Airey returned from a forty-five-minute recess. He wasn’t wearing his robe.
“I’m sorry to keep you folks waiting,” he said, choosing to stand rather than assume his perch on the bench. “I’m going to need more time to consider your request.”
“Judge, is there anything else you need?” Mr. Potter started to rise, but was waved back to his seat.
“No, Leroy, I just need time.” Judge Airey directed his attention to Earl’s mother. “Miz Manning, I know you’ve been through a lot, and the last thing I want to do is prolong my decision. In cases like these, though, when the other spouse isn’t here to represent himself, I prefer to take my time and make sure I do the right thing.”
This is silly, Earl thought. There’s only one right thing to do. Cora kept her gaze on the judge, neither acknowledging nor confirming that she agreed. It was Judge Airey who finally looked away.
“Anyway, I’ll take the pleadings under consideration and let Leroy know when I’ve reached a decision.” With that, Judge Airey turned and headed toward his chambers.
###
Professor Handy looked up from his plate, smiling broadly.
“Mrs. Stanley, I do not exaggerate when I say that was the most delectable meal I’ve eaten in months!”
Harvester’s mom beamed. “I knew that any man who eats crawdads four days a week would enjoy some lamprey pie.” She glanced around the table. Harvester and his sisters had barely touched their lunch. “It looks like you and Lincoln can have some more if you want.”
Lincoln Stanley wiped his mouth with a napkin. “If I eat anymore I’ll not be fit for working, but you help yourself, Professor.”
“Please, Mr. Stanley, call me Joshua. You too, Mrs. Stanley.”
“Very well... Joshua,” Mama said. “And we’re Lincoln and Sarah.” It was surreal for Harvester to hear his parents referring to Professor Handy by his first name.
“Well, Sarah, please give me the recipe for that lamprey pie. My housekeeper will be learning to make it as soon as I get back home.”
Mama raised her eyebrows. “Your wife not do much cooking, Joshua?”
Professor Handy shook his head. “Never married. I allowed my work to consume me as a young man. If the right one came along, I missed her.”
Harvester was flummoxed as to how he hadn’t known that Professor Handy was a bachelor. He wondered how much else he didn’t know.
“Did Harvester tell you the news about the Mueller place?” Lincoln placed his elbows on the table and turned toward the professor.
“Yes he did. What do you make of it?”
“Don’t know what to make of it. I gotta say it worries us a bit. If it’s true, we’re hoping they’re not the kind who don’t like Negroes. We got a lot invested in this old island.”
“They’re not like that,” Professor Handy said quietly.
Mama was working at the sink, but the professor’s comment pulled her back to the table.
“You know something about them, Joshua?”
He nodded. “I’ve refrained from saying anything to Harvester until I was able to meet you all face to face, but yes I know quite a bit about them.
“It was me who sent them.”
TWENTY-FIVE
They gathered at the same picnic tables under the same trees where they’d first eaten together after the Cornish and Dobson families arrived four years earlier. After supper, the children were sent to play in a grassy area out front.
Charlene begged Harvester for a clue about why they were here, but he offered little, other than Professor Handy had information about the new owners of the Mueller farm.
The professor mixed and socialized in a way that greatly impressed Harvester. Any intimidation there might have been on the part of the Grebey Islanders in visiting with a college professor disappeared immediately. Professor Handy was gracious, kind, and surprisingly funny.
Lincoln Stanley raised his hand for attention.
“Folks, we’re thankful to have our new friend Joshua with us from all the way down in Alabama. Joshua, we’ve heard a lot about you from Harvester, and I want to say you’re everything and more.” Embarrassed, Professor Handy grinned.
“Joshua has some information about what’s gonna be happening over at the Mueller place. I know you’ll be interested in hearing it.”
Professor Handy stood up, oblivious to a food stain on his shirt. He had taken off his jacket and tie before lunch.
“What you’ve heard about the sale of the Mueller farm is true, ju
st like the newspaper printed it. The buyers are men of significant economic means, with a shared dream of making college affordable to anyone. They’ve been seeking a location for a couple years now, but one obstacle or another always seemed to come up. Acreage was too small, or too expensive, the neighbors weren’t amenable, always something.”
Just like in class, Professor Handy had his audience’s undivided attention.
“Anyway, after Harvester told me about Grebey Island, I got in touch with Mr. Penn. He sent some folks to look at the acreage and they became very excited. Their excitement grew when they found out how reasonable the asking price was.”
“Cheap for white people maybe,” Dee Cornish said. “Family wouldn’t name a price when a Negro wanted to buy.”
“Yes that’s true, Dee.” Professor Handy said. “The price was quite a bargain. Twenty-five hundred acres for about half of what it should have cost.”
“What kinda college is it gonna be?” Dee asked.
“A college for young people who want to become farmers and scientists. The land and surrounding water will provide a laboratory not available most places. The plans call for students to be accepted without regard to their ability to pay. They’ll farm the land and fish the river. There are even plans to operate a small store, selling products grown and harvested right here. You might be interested in hiring students for your farms. That’ll be a possibility as well. Anything to help them afford college will be considered.”
The adults listened attentively as the professor continued. The school would be private, dependent upon contributions. It would be Christian-based, but no specific denomination. Construction on a large wood-frame classroom building would start within a year. It sounded very exciting, but there was still one question needing an answer. Ruth Dobson, whose family had endured the most pain at the hands of racial injustice and hatred, was the one to ask it.
“Why you helping all these white people, Joshua? What’s in it for you?”
Harvester worried that Mrs. Dobson’s abruptness had offended Professor Handy. Judging by the looks being exchanged, others felt the same.
“Mrs. Dobson, I understand your fears and grieve the losses you’ve endured.” She nodded, motioning for him to continue.
“Folks, this isn’t going to be a white school.” There was a collective gasp.
“It’s not going to be a Negro school, either. It’s just a school. Skin color will have nothing to do with who gets in or who doesn’t.”
###
The sun had sunk behind the trees over Grebey Creek in the thirty minutes it took Professor Handy to explain everything. While intrigued, some remained skeptical.
“How they gonna get this done in Saxon County?”
“The law here don’t give an inch to Negroes.”
“What if trouble comes looking for you?”
Professor Handy took pains to answer each question. Bit by bit the skepticism started to fade, at least until he made his next pronouncement.
“The first President of the college will be a white man.”
Sensing their distrust, he forged on. “He will be a man selected for the position based upon his understanding and acceptance of the college’s mission. An experienced educator who knows how to handle bureaucracy.”
“Seems to me there needs to be a Negro involved to keep things fair.”
Professor Handy nodded. “You’re right, Dee. There will be a Negro in the position of Dean of Academics. He’ll be a young man, full of energy, with a passion for education and for Grebey Island.”
“You think you can find somebody like that,” Lincoln Stanley asked.
“I think we already have.” Harvester felt a jolt when Professor Handy pointed at him. “Provided he can finish two years of college in the next twelve months, then be willing to come back home and oversee planning and construction while taking another year of college by correspondence.”
“Lord Jesus.” Sarah Stanley’s quiet words of praise broke a stunned silence. Harvester was speechless.
“And if Miss Charlene is willing to work as hard as Harvester,” Professor Handy continued, “the group of men committing the fruits of their hard work to this cause would also like to open a grade school for this island’s young people, again regardless of color. Miss Charlene, they would like you to be the school’s first teacher, provided you also squeeze two years’ worth of college into one when you come down to Huntsville this fall.”
Ruth Dobson’s scream pierced the night sky.
This time, it was one of delight.
TWENTY-SIX
“All rise! Court’s in session. The Honorable Kenneth Airey Presiding.”
The atmosphere was much changed from two months before. A dour man in a black suit occupied one of the tables up front. Norris Alcorn was a lawyer from Sikeston, down south of Cape Girardeau. Earl knew nothing else about him, or why eight local men were seated immediately behind him in the gallery.
The men weren’t strangers. Lowell Surratt, Sr., Frank Perkins, and some of the others were West End farmers. Arthur Comstock’s farm bordered Grebey Creek, just across the bridge from the island. Earl remembered them from their visits to the Manning barn for Knights’ meetings. The eighth face was most familiar. He’d scowled at Earl and Cora from the moment they entered the courtroom. It gave Earl no small amount of satisfaction to see how he sat on the front row, with his head tilted to the right, sometimes cupping his hand over his right ear. Grover Petty’s hearing was still suffering from the close-range blast of a shotgun, ten months before.
Judge Airey took his seat, seemingly oblivious to the gathering.
“Mr. Potter, Miz Manning, thank you for being so patient the past couple months. It’s been a busy docket.” Mr. Potter nodded. Cora appeared nervous.
“I have given your request much consideration, Miz Manning, and was nearing a decision when I received an appearance request from Mr. Alcorn. Rather than hear what he had to say in chambers, I thought it best to have him come here today and speak before you and this court. Is this acceptable?”
Mama glanced furtively at Mr. Potter, unsure how to respond. Potter stood.
“Your honor, I believe Mr. Alcorn’s presence, as well as the presence of these other... gentlemen is unnecessary. They have no bearing on my client’s request—”
“I represent Mrs. Manning’s husband, Leviticus Manning.” Alcorn’s voice was strong, not what Earl expected. “The men behind me will be called as witnesses.”
Potter remained standing during Alcorn’s interruption. “Your Honor, need I remind the court that Levi Manning is serving a prison sentence in—”
“Being incarcerated does not preclude legal representation, Mr. Potter,” Alcorn said. “As an attorney I would expect you already knew that, but perhaps not.”
Potter, his face beet red, wheeled to face his adversary. “I don’t need you coming in and telling me the law, hotshot.”
“Don’t start something in court you can’t finish outside, Leroy.” Lowell Surratt’s comments brought Potter up short. He glared at Surratt, before turning back to Judge Airey.
“You Honor, I am deeply offended by the posturing we’re witnessing from Mr. Alcorn. It’s an affront to this court and to you as judge. Furthermore, I feel it’s in the court’s best interest to empty the courtroom of these... observers.”
“Witnesses,” Lowell Surratt said. “We’re witnesses, Leroy. I’m wondering if you really did go to law school.”
Earl could see that Lowell Surratt and Alcorn were trying to get Mr. Potter’s goat, not unlike what he saw many times from Lowell Junior on the school playground. Sadly, it seemed they were successful. Mr. Potter’s eyes were on fire, the veins in his neck standing out.
“Have a seat, Mr. Potter and Mr. Alcorn.” Judge Airey’s voice remained calm as he continued. “Mr. Surratt, gentlemen, I respect your right to be here, but if there are further interruptions I will not hesitate to clear this courtroom. Do I make myself clear?”
> The responses were mumbled and half-hearted.
“I repeat,” there was no mistaking the edge in the judge’s voice. “Do I make myself clear?” A louder response seemed to placate him.
“Mr. Alcorn, do you have some sort of written notification that will prove you are in fact representing—” The attorney whipped out a sheet of paper and held it out for the bailiff. After reviewing it, Judge Airey continued.
“I’ve been presented with a signed statement from Leviticus Manning, witnessed by the prison chaplain, that Mr. Alcorn is representing his interests. Mr. Alcorn, please take a few moments to explain why Miz Manning’s request for divorce should not be granted.”
“Your honor, if it’s okay with the court, I’d like to stand while I make my presentation. I have a back injury suffered during the Great War that makes it difficult to sit for long periods.”
“Certainly, Mr. Alcorn.”
Alcorn buttoned his black coat and moved to the center of the courtroom. He stood at an angle so the judge and the men in the gallery could see his face. His back was turned to Earl, Cora, and Potter.
“There are two points I would like to present, Your Honor. I will argue the first on its own merits. For the second I’ll call upon a number of witnesses to help substantiate the claims being made.”
Judge Airey motioned for Alcorn to proceed.
“The first point, Your Honor, is a review of the case that resulted in Mr. Manning’s conviction. It is my claim, based upon court records, that Mr. Manning did not receive a fair trial, that—”
“Hold on a minute!” Potter bolted to his feet. “We’re not here to argue a case that’s already been decided. Mr. Manning received a trial in front of a jury of his peers and was found guilty and sentenced in accordance with the laws of the State of Missouri.”
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