Always Forward

by Ginny Dye

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Eddie looked up sharply when he heard a knock on the door. He opened it, listened for several minutes, nodded an affirmation, and then closed it again.

  “You going out, Daddy?” Amber asked in a worried voice, her fourteen-year-old eyes much too knowing.

  “Is there trouble, Daddy?” Eleven-year-old Carl asked, his voice more curious than concerned.

  Eddie glanced over at Opal who was helping the children with their homework. He didn’t want to talk in front of the children.

  “You might as well tell it straight out,” Opal said as she rose to stand beside him, her stout form seeming diminutive beside his towering thin frame. “Doesn’t do any good to keep secrets about the troubles for black folks in Richmond. It’s best the children know what to expect.”

  Eddie knew she was right, but it still infuriated him that his children could never seem to know peace. All they had ever known was loss, grief and fear. Yes, they were in school now and learning faster than either of them could keep up with, but Richmond was still a hotbed of uncertainty and sporadic violence for its black residents. Not for the first time, he regretted his decision to move the family back from Philadelphia after the fire that destroyed their restaurant and killed his two oldest daughters, but they were here now and would have to make the best of it.

  “Clark has been arrested.” He strove to keep the anger out of his voice, but he knew it was flashing from his eyes and radiating from every part of him.

  “Arrested?” Opal gasped with terror. “Arrested for what?”

  Amber leapt up, pushing her books aside. “Why was Uncle Clark arrested?”

  “My brother was part of the latest streetcar strike,” Eddie responded, proud in spite of his concern. “I’ll tell you more when I get back. I have to go.” Opal’s eyes filled with even greater fear. He knew she was remembering his being thrown into Castle Thunder during the war. He reached out and grabbed her hand. “It’s not like before, Opal. We got rights now.”

  His words did nothing to appease the fear on Opal’s face. He could understand. Freedom in Richmond did not always look like freedom.

  “What are you gonna do, Eddie?” she asked, her voice quiet as she struggled to maintain composure for the children.

  “We’re going to get him out,” Eddie said, before he turned and pushed his way out of the house. He ran to meet up with the group who had gathered at the end of the road and were already moving toward the streetcar tracks. The group of determined men walked faster when he joined them. Clumps of people gathered on the sides of the road watched them. The expressions on the watcher’s faces said they knew the men were headed toward trouble.

  “God be with you!” one elderly lady called out as she brandished her cane in the air.

  “Go get us our rights!” called out a narrow-faced woman holding two small children by the hands.

  Eddie thought through what he knew as they walked quickly down the dusty roads that bisected the black quarters. The first streetcar strike had been about a month ago. The action had been inspired by a lecture from Reverend William Brown of Baltimore. Eddie had been there for the meeting at the First African Church. His powerful speech had called for the social equality of all the races, and he also told them of the successful efforts of Charleston blacks to gain access to the city streetcars in late March. There had been much talk in the quarters since then about doing the same thing.

  The first action had been taken by four men, all friends of his, who had filed on to a car designated “whites only” and refused to leave. The four had been arrested but released soon thereafter with a stern warning not to repeat their actions. Their bravery had not resulted in any kind of action from the streetcar company.

  The lack of change had prompted a more complex strategy. Eddie had thought the plan wasn’t going to go into effect for a few more nights, but Clark and two more of his militia unit had thought this afternoon offered the perfect opportunity, so they had acted. The three of them, proudly sporting militia uniforms festooned with ribbons from their military service, had paid their fare and climbed into a “whites only” car, sat down, and refused to leave. Other blacks had run back to the quarters, summoning the support needed for the plan to have the impact they wanted.

  As they rounded the last corner, Eddie saw hordes of people coming from every direction. There were women and children in the crowd, but the vast majority were men with angry faces and determined expressions. His heart pounded harder when he realized there were several hundred of them converging on the streetcar platform. He watched as white onlookers broke and ran, obviously terrified of what might happen. Eddie set his lips grimly and continued to press forward. He would have been a part of the crowd regardless, but the fact that it was his brother made him even more determined. He had learned the only way to effect change was to demand it.

  Just as they reached the platform, he saw a group of uniformed and armed policemen emerge from the horse-drawn streetcar. Two of the policemen were holding Clark tightly by his arms. The other policemen had the same grip on Jubal and Ernst. As soon as they appeared, a roar rose up from the crowd. The policemen stood their ground, but you could tell by the look in their eyes that they were frightened.

  “Give us our rights!” a man hollered as he raised his fist in fierce defiance.

  “We will teach these Rebels how to treat us!” another shouted angrily.

  “It’s up to us to take matters into our own hands,” another yelled. “We will have our rights!”

  “We will ride in the city streetcars!” a nearby woman screamed. “It’s our right!”

  The policemen exchanged nervous glances as the throng grew louder, but they turned and began to march their prisoners to the station house.

  Eddie joined the mob pushing forward to follow the prisoners. Clark somehow found him in the crowd. Eddie was proud of his brother, who was walking calmly down the street, his head held high with pride. They exchanged a long look, and then Clark swept his gaze over the rest of the crowd. His courage seemed to inspire them even more.

  “Don’t think we can’t take these men back if we decide to,” a man yelled.

  “Y’all can’t stop all of us!” another called belligerently.

  “You can’t take our men like this,” an elderly gentleman hollered. “We got rights!’

  Eddie watched Clark carefully. The initial plan had been to press forward and free them, proving the power of the black community, but the gazes of the three men said they didn’t want that to happen. He quickly began to pass the message through the crowd not to rescue the prisoners. He could only hope Clark and the rest knew what they were doing. He hated to go back and report to his wife, Jewel, and their two children that Clark was in jail for his part of the protest.

  Eddie remained with the crowd long after the police had disappeared into the station house with their prisoners, but finally broke away and headed home because he knew Opal and Jewel would be frantic. He had to take information to them, even if he knew it was news that was going to fill their sleep with nightmares.

  ********

  Eddie made his way down the street, his mind filled with worry about what might be happening to Clark and the others.

  “Eddie!”

  Eddie looked up as the yell broke through his concentration, relieved to see Jeremy and Marietta pushing their way toward him. He stopped and edged over to join them on the sidewalk.

  “What’s going on?” Jeremy asked, his eyes scanning the crowd that was now moving back toward the black quarters, their faces filled with frustration and anger.

  Eddie filled him in quickly.

  “I thought that was happening in a few days,” Jeremy muttered.

  “I thought so, too, but Clark and the others must have felt different.” Eddie paused. “Is there anything you can do?”

  Jeremy took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  Eddie decided to push. “I don’t know what they gonna d
o in jail to my brother and the others. Them policemen looked pretty scared.” His gut tightened. “Scared men tend to do some bad things.” He couldn’t stop the swarm of memories that filled his mind.

  Jeremy saw through it. “This isn’t Castle Thunder.”

  “Nope, it ain’t, but men pushed up against the wall are all the same,” Eddie insisted. “The more we fight for our rights, the more pressure they gonna feel.”

  “Do you think they were wrong to refuse to leave the streetcar?” Jeremy asked keenly.

  “No,” Eddie said, “but that don’t mean I don’t want to take care of my brother. Ain’t there nothing you can do to get them out of that jail?” If anyone had a chance it was Jeremy, but he also knew his friend was under increasing suspicion for his support of black activities.

  Jeremy spread his hands as he shook his head. “I just don’t know.”

  “But we’ll try,” Marietta said firmly. “All of those men have children in my school.” She laid a hand on Eddie’s arm. “We’ll do everything we can.”

  A burly white man stopped beside them, a leer on his broad, whiskered face. “I got things you can do for me, darlin’. I figure if you’re willing to be with a nigger, that you’ll be way happier with me.”

  Marietta gasped with surprise, and she shrank away, fear glimmering in her eyes.

  Jeremy knocked the man’s beefy hand off Marietta’s arm. “Take your hands off my wife,” he snarled as he stepped in between them.

  The man laughed, encouraged by the mutters of disgust from the other men he was with. “You let your wife touch a nigger, and I figure she is asking for whatever she gets.”

  Eddie knew the look of a man ready to attack. He laid a heavy hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Don’t give them what they want,” he said quietly. “There are too many of them.” He knew he was right. Even if he joined in the fight, Marietta was certain to be harmed. Twelve to two were not good odds. Jeremy glanced back at him, but the rage did not leave his face. Eddie sighed as he prepared for the brawl. He would not let his friend fight alone, but both of them were going to be badly hurt.

  “I don’t reckon this fight is going to go very well,” a deep voice said.

  Eddie spun around, relieved beyond words to find at least twenty of his militia unit forming a semi-circle around them. One reached forward and pulled Marietta beyond the circle to safety.

  “You black boys are making a big mistake,” the burly man snarled.

  Jeremy stood his ground, confident now that he knew Marietta was safe. “I believe it will be you boys who will be making the mistake,” he said calmly. “You’ve got about five seconds to move on. If you don’t, then I suppose you’ll find out just what my friends can do.”

  “Your friends?” the man taunted. His eyes narrowed. “You’re that Jeremy Anthony,” he spat, anger turning to cold fury.

  “That’s right,” Jeremy confirmed.

  “We expect niggers to be ignorant, but white boys who don’t know their place are nothing but stupid,” the man snapped.

  Eddie and the rest took two steps closer and stopped.

  “Let’s get out of here, Brian,” one of the white men facing them muttered. “I have no desire to be in a fight.”

  “That’s right,” another man added, his voice nervous as he stared at the militia unit clearly ready to do battle. “I’m getting out of here.” Not waiting to see if anyone would join him, he turned and walked away.

  Eddie breathed a sigh of relief as four more of the man’s friends departed. The rest didn’t leave, but they took several steps back to communicate to the agitator that he was on his own.

  Brian cursed under his breath but edged backward. “Your day will come, Anthony,” he warned. “Plans are being made to take care of people like you.” His eyes narrowed with disgust. “Watch your back,” he snarled before he turned and stalked away.

  Eddie watched until the group disappeared around a distant corner. Only then did he relax, but he was still concerned for his friend. “Go home, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy locked eyes with Marietta, saw what he was looking for, and then shook his head. “We’re going to the police station,” he said. “This is our fight, too.”

  “Not that anyone knows,” Eddie said under his breath, but Jeremy’s sharp glance said he had heard him.

  “Just because I look white doesn’t mean I don’t also know I am half black,” Jeremy stated. “Marietta and I can sit back and do nothing, or we can fight to make things right.”

  “Why do you care so much?” one of Eddie’s unit demanded. “You could just pass and live in peace like a lot of folks are doing.”

  Jeremy met his eyes evenly. “I could say that it’s because it’s the right thing to do, and that would be true, but it’s more than that,” he replied. “My mother was a slave. My wife and I could have a child that looks black. What kind of father would I be if I didn’t try to give my child a world that is better than the one y’all are living in right now?”

  The man who had challenged him eyed him for a long moment, and gave a satisfied nod. “We’ll walk with you to the police station.”

  Jeremy smiled, tucked Marietta’s hand through his arm, and began to stride down the street.

  ********

  Jeremy and Marietta stood together in front of the gray, metal desk in the front lobby of the police station. Peeling yellow paint and battered chairs were evidence Richmond was still trying to come back from four years of war and siege. There was no sign of Clark and the others, but that was not a surprise. They had probably been put into a holding cell.

  “What can I do for you?” the desk officer asked in a bored voice.

  “I’m here in regard to the three gentlemen you arrested on the streetcar,” Jeremy replied pleasantly.

  The officer’s eyes narrowed. “What do you care about that?”

  Jeremy had planned his strategy on the way. “My sister was on that streetcar when the gentlemen chose not to leave.” He figured a small untruth would be forgiven if he could stop more violence.

  “Then you know they were hardly gentlemen,” the officer snapped. “They get whatever is coming to them.”

  Jeremy kept his face blank, though his mind churned with the possibilities of what that statement could mean. “My sister was badly frightened,” he confided. “She is certain there is going to be more violence. She implored me to come down here to try to stop it.”

  The officer looked at him impatiently. “And how do you figure you can do that?”

  “I happen to know the group that followed you here after the arrest is planning on returning,” Jeremy revealed, his voice lowering as if he didn’t want anyone else to know.

  The officer’s eyes shot toward the front door nervously. “When?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “They wouldn’t tell me that. I just know they went back to get reinforcements.” He kept talking, not wanting the officer to get any ideas about calling in reinforcements of his own. “We can stop all this,” he said persuasively.

  The officer looked at him more closely. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Jeremy Anthony. Many of the men planning on coming back here work for me at Cromwell Factory.”

  The officer’s eyes narrowed even more. “You own that factory?”

  “My brother does,” Jeremy said pleasantly. “I am the manager. I would like very much to stop any further violence.”

  “Because your sister is afraid of getting hurt?”

  It was obvious the officer didn’t believe his story about a frightened sister, but Jeremy had achieved his objective of being listened to. “That’s right.”

  The officer switched his gaze to Marietta. “Are you the sister?”

  “No, I am the wife,” Marietta responded, giving the officer a bright smile.

  Jeremy almost laughed when he watched the effect his beautiful wife’s smile had on the officer. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “I suppose so,” the officer said grudgingly, his eyes still a l
ittle bemused by Marietta’s smile.

  “Let the men go,” Jeremy said. “They have committed no real crime. No one was hurt.”

  “I can’t let them go,” the officer complained. “We arrested them.”

  “On no real grounds,” Jeremy pressed. He leaned forward and lowered his voice to make it seem he was sharing a secret with the officer. “We may not like what is going on in our city, but things are changing. If I were you, I would not want to be responsible for holding men who have committed no real crime. It will not look good for Richmond if we have another Memphis or New Orleans on our hands.” He dropped his voice even further, knowing he was getting through when the officer leaned forward so as not to miss any of his words. “It will not be good if Richmond has a riot. A lot of people will get hurt, and”—he paused for effect—“now is not a good time to have the attention of the federal government on our city.” He was trusting the new army units that had taken control of Virginia in the last month would be a sufficient threat.

  The officer stared at him for several long moments, and then he stood abruptly and disappeared.

  Jeremy exchanged a long look with Marietta. He had done the best he could do. The man may have gone to get more officers to arrest the two of them, or he may have gone to consult about what to do. All they could do was wait to find out the results of their efforts. “That was quite a smile,” he whispered.

  “And I’m impressed with how protective you are of your sister,” Marietta whispered back, her eyes dancing with fun.

  Jeremy relaxed as he gazed into her beautiful eyes. He was once again blindingly aware that he was the luckiest man in the world.

  “Can you stop that crowd?”

  Jeremy spun around when the officer’s voice came at him from a side entrance to the lobby. “I can,” he said gravely.

  “You’re sure of that?” The officer pressed.

  “I am,” Jeremy assured him, completely confident since he knew no such group existed. “I promise you I can stop any violence.”

  The officer stared at him for several moments before, evidently satisfied with what he saw, he nodded. “You better be right,” he growled. He beckoned behind him.