Calhoun was interrupted by Gaines Harper who reentered the small auditorium practically on the run and came down the middle aisle to the platform waving his hand.
‘S'cuse me,’ Calhoun said quickly and got up.
‘Uh, there's a reporter outside from the Norfolk News,’ Harper whispered breathlessly. ‘He was wondering what time the statement was going to be made to the press. I didn't know anything about it but he said there's reporters here from everywhere.’
Calhoun looked out through the partially open entrance to the meeting hall, but he could see nothing except the back of the uniformed security guard on duty. The faculty and others in the room were buzzing noisily.
‘Are there any more questions?’ Calhoun asked in a voice to discourage questions. ‘If not,’ he hurried on, ‘I will be interested in meeting all department heads in my office in about fifteen minutes. I have something to check on.’
No one said anything, but no one made any real effort to leave.
‘I want you to be in my office too, Miss Felch,’ Calhoun said.
There was still no movement from the crowd in the pews. Calhoun picked up his coat and marched through them with a breathless Gaines Harper hurrying behind him.
15
Captain Cool
The young man coming down the stairs from the main lobby of the Student Union Building was in a hurry. He was dressed in black trousers, gold corduroy dashiki, and gold-framed sunglasses. His hair was bushy and natural with a part on the left side. He was almost six feet tall and weighed about one hundred seventy pounds. He had a smooth, caramel complexion and unlike his counterparts from MJUMBE wore no beard or mustache. He was called Captain Cool, but his name was Abul Menka.
When Abul Menka had first joined the Sutton University community he had gone through a great many changes. The majority of the students at Sutton were from the South and had very little to do with New Yorkers; especially New Yorkers who were so firmly aloof from the things that went on at Sutton. The majority of Abul's time had been spent drinking Mother Vineyard's Scuppernong and smoking reefers that he brought back from his frequent trips to New York.
As a freshman Abul had had absolutely no ties to anything, political or otherwise. He had a girl at Howard in Washington and a girl at Morgan State in Baltimore. On weekends he was to be found on either one of those campuses or back in New York. But as a sophomore he decided to pledge for the Omega Psi Phi fraternity. He made the move for several reasons. The first was that his uncle, who was financing his college career, was a ‘Q.’ The second was that on Sutton's campus and every campus Abul visited the women were ‘Q crazy.’
The pledge period lasted a little over two months. During that time Abul was not allowed to use his car for anything other than errands run for his fraternity brothers. This eliminated his runs to Morgan and Howard. It also brought him into some standing within the Sutton community. He had never warmed up to anyone except for a few girls he had tried to take to bed. But after he became a member of the fraternity his coolness was attributed to being a ‘cool Q’ rather than a cold individual.
Six others were on the line with him when he ‘went over’ and became a member of the fraternity. Five of them were members of the present campus organization called MJUMBE. The other had graduated.
The reason for Abul's hurry at the moment was related to his involvement with MJUMBE. He had just finished running off fifteen hundred copies of a proclamation from MJUMBE. He was rushing to the fraternity meeting room where he had an eleven o'clock appointment with the group.
There was no doubt about the things that were happening to him because of MJUMBE's coup. People had spoken to him in the past twelve hours or so who hadn't seemed to even look in his direction before. He was thinking materialistically that the political thing he was doing would be another stepping stone for his rap.
There was nothing wrong with Abul's ability to hold a conversation with women. His major concern at the moment was the progress that had been made by the other members of the five-man committee. As he walked around the oval he saw several things that made him believe that the day before had not been wasted. One was a car that was parked in front of the Paul Lawrence Dunbar Library with the words NORFOLK NEWS stenciled across the left-hand door. A weasely looking whitey sat in the front seat eating a ham sandwich. There was also the sight of Ogden Calhoun and Gaines Harper turning into Sutton Hall, the administration building, damn near on the run. There was also the campus-wide news that no classes had been scheduled for the morning hours.
‘Glad ta see da massuh up an’ movin’ ‘bout so early dis mawnin’,’ Abul mimicked, chuckling.
A bit of nervous tension was growing at the base of his spine. He supposed that everyone involved felt the same way now. For Abul the feeling was very new. He was a master at picking spots where he felt most comfortable and uninvolved, but the political situation intrigued him. He was a student of Black history and was fascinated by the way in which power continually shifted from one pole to another and from one party to another, Democratic or Republican, and yet people who were the victims of one administration managed to gain absolutely nothing from the installation of a new regime. The same sort of political showdown which could be viewed nationally at election time was emerging at Sutton. Nothing had ever been gained from the use of student power because the wishes of the students were rarely followed. The requests were an indication that the student form of protest was about to take another road just as the protests of minority and disadvantaged groups were taking a different form everywhere. On some campuses, such as Berkeley, Abul could understand a comparison with New York City where there always seemed to be a strike or some kind of disorder. Students on these campuses had damn near over-demonstrated and the real reason for attending a college in the first place was lost. That was not the feeling on Sutton's campus. Everyone felt the mounting tension. Abul and the members of MJUMBE felt it more so, Abul decided, because they knew what the next step would be if Calhoun and his bunch of black and white flunkies didn't have their stuff together by noon. Most of the students were uneasy because they didn't know what to expect either from MJUMBE or Calhoun, but many had the feeling that Baker and his group were headed for the highway.
‘We'll see who's headed where,’ Abul muttered.
Under his arm the tall MJUMBE chieftain was carrying mimeographed sheets. He only hoped that the ink had dried sufficiently so as not to blur or stain the printed words. Abul was particularly proud of this paper because he had written it himself before Baker showed up. All Ralph had done was take a look at it and okay it.
As he neared the fraternity house he thought about Earl Thomas and MJUMBE's move to take over the functions of the SGA. He had been waiting to see what Earl Thomas was going to do the night before in the meeting room. Earl had done and said nothing. Maybe they had had Earl in more of a bind than was apparent. Abul knew that anything Earl might have said to discredit him, Abul, could have been denied, but the point was that he hadn't had to deny anything.
His thoughts returned to the paper he had under his arm:
TO ALL FACULTY MEMBERS AND ADMINISTRATORS
The thirteen demands that were submitted to President Calhoun by the Sutton student body were pleas for necessities long overdue. Sutton University, once a leading Black institution, has fallen far behind in every respect. The reason has been the administration's unbending, inflexible position in terms of the needs of the students who must, for nine months out of each year, call Sutton University their home. It has been the understanding of the students that college was a place where one learned to deal with life as a man or a woman must upon leaving the institution for the last time. Sutton students are now prepared when they leave to accomplish the same things their parents were able to do – or less. The reason is the fast pace that one is forced to live with inside this rapidly changing society.
For years Sutton students have been good niggers, waiting and hoping that the bare essentials they have r
equested would be granted them by the administrative powers that be. They have, for the betterment of the community, chosen all except disruptive patterns of revealing their needs by working through the system. All of this has been to no avail. Sutton University continues to sink ‘grain by grain.’
The demands that have been submitted may appear at first glance to be dramatic and hasty, thoughtless proposals. On second glance and a look at the Sutton history of students’ requests, however, one will realize that these are the same types of things that students have been after for twelve years here.
Students on Sutton's campus have been asking for three years that the Pride of Virginia Food Services, Inc. use a meal ticket system that will give students an option over whether or not they pay for the slop that is served each and every day. The Food Service has refused because they know that a majority of students would not touch that poison a majority of the time.
Gaines Harper is a man whose professional qualifications are questionable. We feel him to be absolutely incapable of sharing the personal confidences finance-wise of the Black students on these premises.
Professors Beaker and Royce are both past retirement age. They are fine individuals for whom students have high respect. The problem is that their methods of conveying the subject matter are archaic and in this modern world students cannot plunge into society ill-equipped to face the challenge of competition that awaits them.
The Security Service guards have been known to drink while on duty and there is a student committee investigating the relevance of their role at Sutton. In the interim period we cannot allow a man without all of his wits about him to walk among us with a gun on his hip.
The Student Union Building, book store, and Music and Art Fund all need to be under the auspices of the SGA. The monies from these departments go now into the pockets of Pride of Virginia (for the canteen), Educational Assistance (books), and the Music and Art Fund, which seems to be tossing its student monies down into a bottomless pit for the amount of pleasure students receive from the artists they hire. The need within the student body for more jobs which could be supplied in the canteen and book store, and for better entertainment due to our geographic location, is obvious. The need is also immediate.
The Faculty Review Committee and Faculty Interview Committee were originally proposed by Mr McNeil of the history department. They were not intended to frighten members of the faculty. The saying goes, ‘The guilty fleeth when no man pursueth,’ and it is true here. The question was raised often about student academic apathy. The answer can only be discovered in more and better communication between students and faculty members. Too often faculty members get the guided tour of Sutton, seeing only what the administration wants them to see, and then sign a contract that becomes an unpleasant situation for both faculty member and student. The Faculty Interview Committee would attempt to avoid this and the Review Committee would keep those who become sluggish and lackadaisical about their duties on their toes. The ideal situation in both cases would liven Sutton professionally and academically.
A Black Studies Institute is essential. This is a time in this country where a Black man or woman cannot afford to bypass the quantities of information that are suddenly available about themselves. Too long now Black people have been forced to carve an image out of rock in order to survive and lead a successful life. Too often also Black people have been forced to copy the white man's life style and this both frustrates and kills the Blackness and beauty within him. Black Studies would teach us about ourselves and give us a direction that we have never had before.
Seniors have been graduating for years from Sutton having spent over ten thousand dollars during their college careers with very little idea of what happened to the money. The administration has been playing too many word games when asked serious questions about the whereabouts of X amount of dollars. The word games consist of things like ‘general fund’ and ‘student activity fund’ and ‘community fund.’ People have not asked for a cent of their money back. They have asked to see where in hell it went. This should entail a dollar-by-dollar description if necessary because it is their money. Once again we say: ‘The guilty fleeth when no man pursueth.’ There are state legislators and Congressmen who are required to give detailed accounts of their monies. This is what we want. Proof that our money is being put toward the best possible end.
The community surrounding Sutton's campus is Black. The people there are poor people who need medical services that at times they cannot afford. We ask that our services be available to them and that this point be publicized so that the Black people will never be in doubt as to whether or not medicine and aid are available to them.
Abul had to curb a smile of pleasure when he thought about the diplomatic job he had done in the statement. There was very little fault to be found. Even the last lines had been written in good taste:
We are not here to protest or demonstrate or discontinue the academic routine of the university, but there comes a time when men must be men and women must be women. We feel that if we cannot receive the respect that we believe men and women deserve, then we must take this respect ‘by any means necessary.’
Abul took the fraternity steps two at a time. MJUMBE had a scheduled meeting at eleven. He did not intend to be late.
16
Executive Conference
Ogden Calhoun was raging into the receiver. ‘Well, why in hell didn't you call me, Miller, if you were so goddamn hard up for something t'print in that rag sheet? Why didn't you call me an’ ask for a story? . . . huh? I don't care if you weren't there last night. The man didn't leave ‘til this morning an’ you were there then!’
The harried president of Sutton had never gotten as far as taking off his coat before he was on the phone speaking to the editor of the Norfolk newspaper. Gaines Harper sat in the chair across from Calhoun with sweat pouring off his face and his breath shouting up from his lungs in fiery gasps. The fat Financial Aid Officer was in no shape to chase Calhoun around.
‘Well, when he calls in you be sure that he gets up here to get my side of the story before you print. You hear me? . . . all right! Yeah. Well . . . I wasn't having any trouble until somebody saw your man. I still don't have much. I just don't want or need any of my people panicking an’ shooting off their mouths. I'd have trustees down here going through their bullshit . . . well, I'll talk to you!’ Calhoun slammed the phone down.
‘He said he was going to call me, but the night editor sent a man down here last night because everybody else was sending somebody down here. You know them newspaper guys. Nobody wants to do any real work, but nobody wants to get scooped either.’
‘You mean there's more down here?’ Harper asked in a gasp.
‘He said AP an’ UPI and some more . . .’ Calhoun pressed his intercom button down. ‘Miss Felch?’ There was no answer.
‘She probably didn't get over here yet,’ Harper choked.
‘Right.’ Calhoun dialed a three-digit number. ‘Miss Charles?’ he said in a syrupy voice. ‘Miss Felch hasn't come in yet and I am in desperate need of a cup of coffee and the morning paper. Do you . . . Thank you.’
Calhoun took off his coat and gloves. He hung the coat in the corner closet and sat down again in the leather high-back chair leaning against a large window overlooking the oval.
‘I don't have any idea what Thomas is doing,’ he admitted. ‘I know he'll be in trouble once I find out.’
‘This doesn't change anything, does it?’ Harper asked.
‘Not for me,’ Calhoun grunted. ‘Not until I get some more information about exactly what's going on.’
Miss Charles, a young honey-blonde from Fenton Mercer's office, came in with a copy of the morning paper. She gave both Calhoun and Harper a dazzling smile.
‘The coffee'll be ready in a moment,’ she said in a soft Southern drawl.
‘Good!’
‘Here's the paper. How're you Mr Harpuh? I so seldom get to see you.’
‘I'm f
ine,’ Harper lied.
‘Back in a minute,’ she said, starting to leave.
Fenton Mercer almost ran her down coming in as she was exiting.
‘Excuse me, Miss Charles,’ Mercer said. ‘I was just looking for you.’
‘I was gettin’ coffee for Mr Calhoun.’
‘Good. Would you get me a cup too? Good and strong,’ he grinned his business grin.
Miss Charles managed to get out at last.
‘I see . . .’
‘We saw,’ Calhoun muttered drily. ‘I s'pose each an’ every one here has seen by now.’
‘Well, everybody saw them parked there when they came out of the meeting,’ Mercer supplied.
‘Where's Miss Felch?’
‘She's comin’,’ Mercer said. ‘There's some more information coming from the meeting you left. I think it would be best if I let the department heads tell you.’
‘All right. Where are they?’
‘Coming.’ Mercer began thumbing his way through the morning paper.
‘We'll need some more chairs,’ Calhoun observed. ‘Gaines . . .’
‘I'll get them.’
‘They're in the closet out front.’
The various department heads came in at that moment. Beaker agreed to help Harper get the chairs while the others stood around. Calhoun was nervous about what he might hear from the faculty, but he said nothing.
Before everyone was seated Miss Felch came in with her pad and pen. Miss Charles also returned with two cups of black, steaming coffee.
When everyone was seated Calhoun cleared his throat to begin. He stopped himself:
‘Where's McNeil?’ he asked.
‘He's not coming,’ Marcus from Political Science said quietly.
‘Not coming! I asked all department heads to be here!’
‘We took a sort of quorum in the auditorium,’ Nash from the Music Department said finally. ‘I suggested that since we all knew the issues that we make things simpler by not really having a meeting here. I suggested that we simply give you our approval.’
The Nigger Factory Page 11
