A History of the African-American People (Proposed) by Strom Thurmond

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A History of the African-American People (Proposed) by Strom Thurmond Page 15

by Percival Everett


  Please forgive my ignorance in contacting you. I do not know the ways of publishing or the ways of the university. But I do know something of the ways of the human heart.

  Sincerely,

  Reba McCloud

  Reba McCloud

  FROM THE DESK OF PERCIVAL EVERETT

  January 24, 2003

  Jim—See attached from Reba—Percival

  Interoffice Memo

  January 24, 2003

  Percival—See attached from Juniper—Jim

  FROM THE DESK OF PERCIVAL EVERETT

  January 26, 2003

  Jim—

  OK, here’s what we do.

  1. You write to Reba, who is more in your line. You and she have lots of feelings.

  2. I’ll write to Snell, forcing him to take McCloud back.

  3. I’ll write to McCloud, telling him we can’t use him, stay put, Snell wants him back.

  I’ll send you copies of 2 and 3. Please do not send me a copy of 1.

  P

  Interoffice Memo

  January 27, 2003

  P:

  So “here’s what we do,” is it? Couldn’t you be a bit more preemptory?

  I could have told YOU that we couldn’t use McCloud as a research assistant and that he had better not count on that. No need for You to tell Me.

  It is as much my idea as yours to force Snell to take him off diet books and put him back on our project. I am of the opinion that I could figure out Snell’s weak points and how to attack them better than you, but you find it hard to listen to anything but that little personal cheering squad you transport inside your head. Write him, by all means.

  And you’re writing Juniper too, I see. Correct me if I’m wrong here, but I was under the impression that Juniper turned to ME, not YOU. It was Reba who wrote to you, as the fucking man of feeling. Why this switcheroo?

  I know you were hired first on this project and I have never said it was simply an affirmative action hire and that I was added on as the scholar, historian, academic, fact-guy, writer. I have never said that. Give credit where credit is due.

  I am a little sore about all this. I think I have every right to be. You probably don’t. You probably think I have no right to be sore. Now look, I don’t think it’s a racial thing. I never said that. But Jesus Christ, look at the facts. If you can.

  J

  Percival Everett

  University of Southern California

  University Park Campus

  Los Angeles, CA 90089

  January 27, 2003

  Dear Barton,

  We have been making, shall we say, extraordinary progress after our meeting with the Senator. You were right about how little of substance we got. That we get from you. What we got from Strom was, as Kincaid said, no more than atmosphere and encouragement. Now, if you’re with us, we can really roll.

  However, we are unable to continue without Juniper McCloud. His judgment, good cheer, and dependability are essential to this project.

  We count on you to force Snell to get him back.

  Tell Snell, if you would, that it’ll be a crackerjack book, as he’s said all along. It will bring great credit and justified advancement to him.

  But there will be no book at all unless he hires McCloud back.

  We are dead serious about this and would address Snell directly. But we know you carry much more weight with him.

  As one pro to another, I depend on you—and now owe you one.

  Sincerely,

  Percival Everett

  Percival Everett

  Percival Everett

  University of Southern California

  University Park Campus

  Los Angeles, CA 90089

  January 27, 2003

  Dear Juniper,

  We’re on the case, old friend.

  Wish we could employ you here, but there’s no money and less work.

  Stay there. We’re getting Snell to rehire you, put you on the book with us. We can also protect you there, even from a certifiable like Snell.

  We like you. Trust us.

  Best,

  Percival

  p.s. Jim says Hi.

  FROM THE DESK OF PERCIVAL EVERETT

  January 27, 2003

  Dear Jim,

  Yes, that’s so.

  But remember, I love you.

  Best,

  Percival

  OFFICE OF SENATOR STROM THURMOND

  217 RUSSELL SENATE BUILDING

  WASHINGTON, D.C. 20515

  January 30, 2003

  Dear Martin,

  I think you will agree that, when all is said and done, continuity counts. I know there are those who disagree. You are not one.

  Continuity does not mean stagnation; it does not mean always planting the same crop in the same field. There is no opposition between continuity and sound ideas on crop rotation. I am not ashamed to say that I know something about these matters. There is not that much difference, to an alert mind, between life in Washington and life on the farm. Know crops and livestock, the world of modern agriculture, and you know politics.

  We have a team here, a team that is working very well together. Oh sure, we have had our little bits of static, a few interruptions of our program for announcements that were nothing more than personal vanity. I don’t deny it. But if you, Martin, were not expecting this, then you’re nothing but a little boy showering after his first gym class (usually Grade 7), worried that people will see his pecker.

  Continuity is to us what the Pentecost was to Babel.

  Take steps immediately to reinstitute continuity. Just do it, Martin, no questions asked. You’ll be glad you did it.

  You didn’t respond to my telepathic guesses as to your social life and personal bearing. Are you cooling?

  Call me Lars,

  Barton

  James R. Kincaid

  University of Southern California

  University Park Campus

  Los Angeles, CA 90089

  January 30, 2003

  Dear Reba,

  You don’t mind me calling you “Reba,” do you? I feel that I know you, and know you not distantly either, having come to understand and admire your brother so. He often speaks of you. I think I can say that, distance aside, I know you both well, as if you were my own brother and sister. I never had a sister, but still, the heart is a lonely hunter, as Carson McCullers once said.

  You may be wondering why I am answering you and not Percival. It’s not that he doesn’t like you; let me assure you of that. He likes you a lot. It’s just that he thinks my people skills are more advanced than his, that I am what we might call more sensitive. It’s not that Percival doesn’t have his virtues. He’ll be glad to hear you like his novels, assuming you do. And I’m sure you do, as you say you do. I know you would never say one thing and mean another. I can tell that instinctively. I have very good instincts in these matters. Percival does not.

  As for your brother, what we’re doing is, we’re contacting Senator Thurmond’s office directly so as to put pressure on Martin Snell there at Simon & Schuster to rehire Juniper. He’s resigned, as you know, but he was so badly treated we wouldn’t be wrong to say he had no choice. But trust us: we know Senator Thurmond and can call on his influence. Whatever you think of him—and believe me I have my thoughts too—he does have influence. And he knows how to use it.

  So, Snell will rehire Juniper and treat him well. Count on it.

  Of course, we would have loved to employ Juniper ourselves and get to know him even better close up. Maybe you would have moved here too. But those are pipe dreams, better left to waft away in the breezy ocean air we enjoy out our way. We didn’t really have the occasion to offer him suitable employment, you see, nor, to be frank, the funds.

  This way we can keep a fatherly eye on him. And on you too.

  Very cordially yours,

  James R. Kincaid

  James R. Kincaid

  OFFICE OF SENATOR STROM THURMOND

&n
bsp; 217 RUSSELL SENATE BUILDING

  WASHINGTON, D.C. 20515

  February 3, 2003

  Dear Marty,

  Have you rehired Juniper yet? I have heard nothing.

  Is it possible that you did not see the application of my last letter? No, it is not possible?

  Yes it is.

  By “continuity,” I meant rehiring McCloud. You wouldn’t have fired him in the first place had you understood continuity. And don’t tell me somebody else fired him, or he quit, or some such.

  I don’t care.

  Just give him a raise and get him back on this book.

  Look, Martin, Juniper may have his oddities, but who of us do not? I may be odd myself, but I do not like to see good people hurt. Juniper is a good person and probably deserves much better people than you and me around him. I know I don’t exactly provide for those I love an easy passage over life’s rough spots. Sometimes I am one rough spot myself. And so are you.

  So do a decent thing for once and give McCloud back his job and treat him better.

  If you don’t, I’ll get you fired. I’ll send a letter signed by Strom that will have such rock-in-the-water resonance you’ll never work in publishing again—anywhere.

  So do the kind thing.

  Love,

  Barton W.

  OFFICE OF SENATOR STROM THURMOND

  217 RUSSELL SENATE BUILDING

  WASHINGTON, D.C. 20515

  February 3, 2003

  Dear Juniper,

  I have these moments when things are clearer for me, though they are not always welcome. They let me see the wrong things.

  I cannot imagine you are very happy to receive a letter from me. I just hope I haven’t hurt you somehow over the past months. God knows I might have.

  This is to let you know that a cabal of your friends—me, Kincaid, Everett, and probably your sister—have put pressure on that Snell to rehire you, to lure you back with more money and promise of kindness—by which he probably means personal attentions you could well do without. But maybe not.

  Anyhow, things will be better. You’ll be working on the book. Everett and Kincaid are good sorts—at least Everett is.

  You’ll have to deal with me too. I can only say that I right now see what a grim prospect that must be. I have no right to ask it, but if you could summon the graciousness of heart to tell me it won’t be so bad working with me, it’d mean much. I don’t ask for the truth; a lie will do fine.

  Your friend,

  Barton

  SIMON & SCHUSTER, INC.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  February 10, 2003

  Dear Barton,

  Let me say at once that you and I are on the same page. There is nothing at all separating our thinking on this point.

  Enough said? Well, certainly, considering how quick you are, how deft. Still, it may be as well to spell it out in a little detail, unnecessary as that also is. I have offered R. Juniper McCloud a reinstatement at an improved salary, under what, I think we both would agree, are improved conditions. I mean by that last point that he will be protected from Vendetti. By me. I won’t trouble you with details as to how that unfortunate transfer of our Juney was forced on me. I could see how he drooped and withered away from me. I was helpless to fertilize his leaves, water his roots.

  Consider my situation.

  But all that is changed. Believe me, as I know you must.

  You refer also to friendly questions you raised a while ago (January 10) about my social life. I had not answered, Barton, as it would have seemed to me presumptuous. You understand, of course. Who am I to thrust personal details on such as you? I mean, of course you asked, and that would be grounds enough for some to load on you the most personal, the most embarrassing of revelations. Not me.

  Now I see that you have repeated your gesture, so I will tell you that my dating life is and always has been—well, not quite always, of course, but since the time, and I was precocious, when I graduated from playing doctor and hide-theoreo to what might justly be called “dating”—highly inventive. That’s a hard sentence to follow, isn’t it? My dating life is, I am happy to say, creative and unbounded by rules or public declarations. I am not one to say, “I will only date people who do A, or people who eat B, or people who are proficient at backyard C, or people who—.” You see. Your comments on my complexion (poor), slouch, and bad hair are fine jokes. Very manly. That’s just one thing I like about you. I think we are the sort who could, if we liked, have some beers, eat peanuts, watch football, insult one another, and pee on the floor. That is, if we wanted to, if you wanted to. I mean we could do that, not necessarily that we would or anything like that. It’d be up to you.

  As always,

  Martin

  SIMON & SCHUSTER, INC.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  February 10, 2003

  Dear Juniper,

  I come to you extending the hand of remorse and contrition. The average person would likely say that these words both mean the same thing. But you are not an average person.

  I’d like to think I too am not an average person, but I am not able to deny that in my treatment of you, I was average. I know that your generous nature—shall I call it a generous heart?—will spring to deny this, to bring succor and comfort. But allow me this one moment of valor.

  I was wrong. I was average.

  The project on which you and I have, together, prayed and bled and perspired needs you. I need you too, but I make this plea in the name of the project, hoping you cannot but respond to that call. Knowing you cannot but respond.

  A 20% increase and protection from Vendetti. What do you say to that?

  Your dear friend,

  Martin

  p.s. I have the most ingenious welcome back present. I won’t tell you what it is (or they are), but I’ll give a hint. Zippers must be zipped (or Unzipped, as the case may be) to reach them, to display them.

  February 15, 2003

  Dear Barton,

  You have always been kind to me. I hope you don’t think I imagine otherwise or suppose that I harbor anything but good feelings and good memories. You are a friend, and I hope never to feel anything but gratitude and a kind of wonder toward those who wish me well.

  In your case, you not only have wished well, but done well.

  Thank you, Barton. I look forward to resuming our work.

  Your friend,

  Juniper

  February 15, 2003

  Dear Percival and Jim,

  I just talked with Reba, who confirmed what Martin Snell had told me. And Barton Wilkes, in a letter so sweet it made my eyes water. Snell’s letter didn’t, since it was his characteristic prose and manner.

  But I am back, thanks to you two. I know you threatened Snell, and I gather Barton did too. Imagine that. I am still dazed and even a little shaken by the kindness of you, who have never met me and have little to go on except my griping. You must be good on principle.

  Whatever it is, my heart is touched and I am so grateful.

  Yours,

  Juniper

  SIMON & SCHUSTER, INC.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  February 16, 2003

  Dear Percival and Jams,

  I am doing my ow typing these days, what with Juniper nott back as yet and not quite realizing how to use the spellchecker thing. But things like typing stay with you, don’t you thik? I went bowling just last week. Hadn’t been in oh a dozen yeart and you know what? I bowled 196. I don’t know if you juys bowl, but that is a fine score. And I think typing is just like bowing.

  Wanted to let you know right off, tthought, that all is well. Juniper is back on boar and will be in tomorrow I think. We did it. I credit you just as much ws me in gettinf him his job back after Vendetti and all. I won/t say it was exacrly easy, you know, but I pulled it of.

  Now we’re back in business!<
br />
  I drink a typewritten toast to both of yoi.

  Your fiend,

  Martin

  OFFICE OF SENATOR STROM THURMOND

  217 RUSSELL SENATE BUILDING

  WASHINGTON, D.C. 20515

  To: Martin Snell, Simon & Schuster

  From: Amos Jackson, Assistant to The Hon. Strom Thur-mond

  Re: Barton Wilkes

  Date: February 25, 2003

  Be advised that Barton Wilkes is no longer Public Relations Advisor to Senator Strom Thurmond. He has now no connection whatever with the Senator. It obviously follows that he will not be connected in any way with the book project.

  That project will proceed uninterrupted.

  OFFICE OF SENATOR STROM THURMOND

  217 RUSSELL SENATE BUILDING

  WASHINGTON, D.C. 20515

  February 27, 2003

  Dear James and Percival,

  Hey there! There is a person in the office who, when I do not manage to evade him, brightens his eyes, narrows his lips, tenses his ungainly body, and then uncoils with a pert and jaunty, “Hey there!”

  Some people would say, “So what? What does it matter how he greets you, when it’s all just conventional anyhow.” “Precisely,” I say; “it’s for that very reason that one should take the greatest pains with these matters.” “Why?” they say. “Because they are conventional!” I say. “Tell us what you mean, Barton,” they plead. “I will,” I say; “it is by conventional compasses that we navigate this world. Convention allows us to rub together without galling one another. Convention is, when you think of it, how we live.” “And?” they are prone to say. “And,” I respond, “it follows that, since we get through life relying on convention and not originality, we should respect and nurture that convention.”

  “So what should he do, this hey-there man?” “It’s plain as those little pimple things at the corner of your nostril: say, ‘Hello, Barton.’ Then, if he sees me a few minutes later, he should nod, kindly but mutely. Is that so difficult? That’s what convention dictates, and convention never makes unreasonable demands.”

 

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