The fishermen began scraping fish and hot grease began to pop in happy houses. All but the Allen’s. Mrs. Allen wouldn’t have a thing to do with our fish because Mr. Allen and Cliffert had made her mad about the yard. So I fried the fish. She wouldn’t touch a bite, but Mr. Allen, Cliffert and I pitched into it. Mr. Allen might have eaten by the rules but Cliffert and I went at it rough-and-tumble with no holds barred.
But we did sit down on the front porch to rest after the fish was eaten.
The men were still coming into the quarters from various parts of the “job.” The children played “Shoo-round,” and “Chick-mah-Chick” until Mrs. Williams called her four year old Frankie and put her to sleep by rocking her and singing “Mister Frog.”
It wasn’t black dark, but night was peeping around the corner. The quarters were getting alive. Woofing, threats and brags up and down the line.
Three figures in the dusk-dark detached themselves from the railroad track and came walking into the quarters. A tall black grim-faced man with a rusty black reticule, followed by two women.
Everybody thought he was a bootlegger and yelled orders to him to that effect. He paid no attention, but set down his bag slowly, opened it still slower and took out a dog-eared Bible and opened it. The crowd quieted down. They knew he was a travelling preacher, a “stump-knocker” in the language of the “job.”
Some fell silent to listen. Others sucked their teeth and either went back into their houses or went on to the jook.
When he had a reasonable amount of attention he nodded to the woman at his left and she raised “Death comes a Creepin’” and the crowd helped out. At the end the preacher began: 4
You all done been over in Pentecost (got to feeling spiritual by singing) and now we going to talk about de woman that was taken from man. I take my text from Genesis two and twenty-one (Gen. 2:21)
Behold de Rib!
Now, my beloved,
Behold means to look and see.
Look at dis woman God done made,
But first thing, ah hah!
Ah wants you to gaze upon God’s previous works.
Almighty and arisen God, hah!
Peace-giving and prayer-hearing God,
High-riding and strong armded God
Walking acrost his globe creation, hah!
Wid de blue elements for a helmet
And a wall of fire round his feet
He wakes de sun every morning from his fiery bed
Wid de breath of his smile
And commands de moon wid his eyes.
And Oh—
Wid de eye of Faith
I can see him
Standing out on de eaves of ether
Breathing clouds from out his nostrils,
Blowing storms from ’tween his lips
I can see!
Him seize de mighty axe of his proving power
And smite the stubborn-standing space,
And laid it wide open in a mighty gash—
Making a place to hold de world
I can see him—
Molding de world out of thought and power
And whirling it out on its eternal track,
Ah hah, my strong armded God!
He set de blood red eye of de sun in de sky
And told it,
Wait, wait! Wait there till Shiloh come
I can see!
Him mold de mighty mountains
And melting de skies into seas.
Oh, Behold, and look and see! hah
We see in de beginning
He made de bestes every one after its kind,
De birds that fly de trackless air,
De fishes dat swim de mighty deep—
Male and fee-male, hah!
Then he took of de dust of de earth
And made man in his own image.
And man was alone,
Even de lion had a mate
So God shook his head
And a thousand million diamonds
Flew out from his glittering crown
And studded de evening sky and made de stars.
So God put Adam into a deep sleep
And took out a bone, ah hah!
And it is said that it was a rib.
Behold de rib!
A bone out of a man’s side.
He put de man to sleep and made wo-man,
And men and women been sleeping together ever since.
Behold de rib!
Brothers, if God
Had taken dat bone out of man’s head
He would have meant for woman to rule, hah
If he had taken a bone out of his foot,
He would have meant for us to dominize and rule.
He could have made her out of back-bone
And then she would have been behind us.
But, no, God Amighty, he took de bone out of his side
So dat places de woman beside us;
Hah! God knowed his own mind.
Behold de rib!
And now I leave dis thought wid you,
Let us all go marchin’ up to de gates of Glory.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
In step wid de host dat John saw.
Male and female like God made us
Side by side.
Oh, behold de rib!
And less all set down in Glory together
Right round his glorified throne
And praise his name forever.
Amen.
At the end of the sermon the woman on the preacher’s left raised, “Been a Listenin’ All de Night Long,” and the preacher descended from his fiery cloud and lifted the collection in his hat. The singers switched to, “You Can’t Hide, Sinners, You Can’t Hide.” The sparse contribution taken, the trio drifted back into the darkness of the railroad, walking towards Kissimmee.
NINE
The little drama of religion over, the “job” reverted to the business of amusing itself. Everybody making it to the jook hurriedly or slowly as the spirit moved.
Big Sweet came by and we went over together. I didn’t go with Cliffert because it would mean that I’d be considered his property more or less and the other men would keep away from me, and being let alone is no way to collect folk-lore.
The jook was in full play when we walked in. The piano was throbbing like a stringed drum and the couples slow-dragging about the floor were urging the player on to new lows. “Jook, Johnnie, Ah know you kin spank dat ole pe-anner.” “Jook it Johnnie!”1 “Throw it in de alley!”2
The Florida-flip game was roaring away at the left. Four men playing skin game with small piles of loose change.3
“High, Jack, game,” one side called.
“Low and not ashamed,” from the other.
Another deal.
Dealer: (to play at left) “Whut yuh say?”
Player: “Beggin’.”
Dealer: “Git up off yo’ knees. Go ’head and tell ’em Ah sent you.” (I give you one point.)
Dealer: “Pull off, partner.”
A frenzied slapping of cards on the table. “Ha! we caught little britches!” (low) “Pull off again!”
“Can’t. Ain’t seen de deck but one time.”
“Aw shucks. Ah got de wrong sign from you. Ah thought you had de king.”
“Nope, Ah can’t ketch a thing. Ah can’t even ketch nobody lookin’ at me.”
The opponents grin knowingly and one of them sticks the Jack up on his forehead and gloats, “De Jack’s a gentleman.” It is now the highest card out.
A furious play to the end of the hand and the dealer cries: “Gone from three. Jus’ like Jeff Crowder’s eye” (out).
“Out!” cries the outraged opponents. “Out yo’ head! Out wid whut!”
“We played high, low, game!”
“Take dat game right out yo’ mouf. We got twenty by tens.”
“Le’s go to school.” (Let’s count game.)
One player slyly picks up the deck and tries to mix it with his cards.
r /> “Aw naw, put down dat deck! You can’t count it on me.”
“Aw, you tryin’ to bully de game, but if you ain’t prepared to back yo’ crap wid hot lead, don’t bring de mess up.”
Joe Wiley was on the floor in the crap game. He called me to come stand by him and give him luck. Big Sweet left me there and went on over to the skin game.
Somebody had squeezed the alcohol out of several cans of Sterno and added sugar, water and boiled-off spirits of nitre and called it wine. It was dealt out with the utmost secrecy. The quarters boss had a way of standing around in the dark and listening and he didn’t allow a drop of likker on the job. Paynights used to mean two or three killings but this boss had ended the murders abruptly. And one caught with likker was sent down to Bartow to the jail and bound over to the Big Court. So it had come to the place where “low” wine was about all the quarters could get and the drinker was taking two terrible risks at that—arrest and death.
But there was enough spirits about for things to keep lively. The crap game was frothy. Office had the dice when I walked up. He was shivering the dice and sliding them out expertly.
“Hah! good dice is findin’ de money! Six is mah point.”
“Whut’s yo’ come bet?” Blue asked.
“Two bits.”
“Two bits you don’t six.”
Office picked up the dice stealthily, shook them, or rather failed to shake them craftily and slid them out. Blue stopped them. Office threw three times and three times Blue stopped them. Office took out his switch-blade knife and glared at Blue.
“Nigger, don’t you stop mah dice befo’ dey point.”
“You chokin’ dem dice. Shake and lemme hear de music.”
I wanted to get into the game in a small way but Big Sweet was high balling4 me to come over to the skin game. I went over to see what she wanted and was given her purse to hold. She wanted to play and she wanted a free hand. It was the liveliest and most intense game in the place. I got all worked up myself watching the falling cards.
A saddle-colored fellow called “Texas Red” was fighting the wine inside him by trying to tenor “O1’ Pal, Why Don’t You Answer Me,” while he hung over the game watching it. His nasal tones offended Big Sweet, who turned and asked him, “Did somebody hit yuh tuh start yuh? ’Cause if dey did Ah’m goin’ ter hit yuh to stop yuh.” Texas and Big Sweet did what is locally known as “eye-balling” each other. His eyes fell lower. Her knife was already open, so he strolled on off.
There had been a new deal. Everybody was getting a fresh card.
Dealer: “You want a card, Big Sweet?”
Big Sweet: “Yeah, Ah wanta scoop one in de rough.”
Dealer: “Aw right, yo’ card is gointer cost you a dollar. Put yo’ money on de wood and make de bet go good and then agin, put yo’ money in sight and save a fight.”
She drew a card from the deck and put it face up beside her, with a dollar bill.
Dealer: “Heah, Hardy, heah’s a good card—a queen.” He tossed the card to Hardy.
Hardy: “Aw naw, Ah don’t play dem gals till way late in de night.”
Dealer: “Well take de ace and go to wee-shoppy-tony and dat means East Hell. Ah’m gointer ketch you anyhow.”
Hardy: “When you ketch me, you damn sho will ketch a man dat’s caught a many one. Ah’m playin’ up a nation.”
Dealer: “Put down! You all owe de bet a dime. Damn sitters rob St. Peter, rob St. Paul.”
Larkins: “Dat nigger is gointer top somebody. He’s got a cub.5 Ah ain’t goin’ in dat damn steel trap.”
Dealer: “Aw naw, Ah ain’t! You sap-sucker!” (To Hardy) “You owe de bet a dime if you never pay it.”
The dealer starts down the deck, and the singing goes with it. Christopher Jenkins’ deep baritone is something to remember.
“Let de deal go down, boys.6
Let de deal go down.
When yo’ card gits lucky, oh padner;
You ought to be in a rollin’ game.”
Each line punctuated by “hah!” and a falling card.
Larkins: “Ah’m dead on de turn.”
Dealer: “Ah heard you buddy.”
“Ain’t had no money, oh padner!” (To Larkins) “You head-pecked shorty, drive up to de cryin’ post and hitch up. You want another card?”
Larkins: “Shuffle and deal and ain’t stop fallin’ yet.” (He means he stays in the game so he takes another hand.)
Dealer: “Put down dat chicken-change quarter you got in yo’ hand.”
The singing goes on—
“Ah’m goin’ back to de Bama,
Won’t be worried wid you.”
(To Hardy) “De nine” (card dealer holds) “is de best. Is you got air nickel to cry?”
“Let de deal go down, boys;
Let de deal go down.”
Big Sweet: “De four” (card she holds) “says a dollar mo’.”
Dealer: “Oh hell and brothers! Ah’m strictly a two-bit man.”
Big Sweet (arrogantly): “You full of dat ole ism blood. Fatcovered yo’ heart. Youse skeered to bet. Gamblin’ wid yo’stuff out de window.”7
Dealer: “Dollar mo’.”
Hardy: “Hell broke loose in Georgy!”
Big Sweet: “Ah mean to carry y’all to Palatka and bring yuh back by de way of Winter Park.”
Hardy: “Big Sweet, Ah don’t b’lieve Ah’ll see yo’ raise.”
Big Sweet: “Oh g’wan and bet. You got mo’ sense than me. Look at dem damn kidneys all over yo’ head.”
“Ain’t had no trouble, Lawd padner
Till Ah stop by here.”
Dealer: “Take it and cry, children.” (His card falls.) “Dey sent me out by de way of Sandusky. Lemme see kin Ah find me a clean card.”
Big Sweet: “Ah caught you guilty lyin’! Make a bet and tell a lie about it.”
Hardy: “He done cocked a face card. Look out we don’t ketch you guilty.”
Big Sweet: “He got de cards in his hand.”
“Let de deal go down, boys,
Let de deal go down.”
Hardy: “Dat’s me. Ah thought dat card was in Bee-luther-hatchee!”8
Dealer: “Tell de truth and stay in de church! Ah’m from down in Ginny-Gall where they eat cow-belly, skin and all. Big Sweet, everybody done fell but you. You must be setting on roots.”
Big Sweet: “Nope, Ah got my Joe Moore in my hair.”9
Dealer: “Well, Ah got de cards. I can cheat if I want to and beat you anyway.”
Big Sweet: “You mess wid dem cards and see if Ah don’t fill you full of looky-deres.”
Hardy: “Whut a looky-dere?”
Big Sweet: “A knot on yo’ head so big till when you go down de street everybody will point at it and say ‘Looky-dere.’”
Dealer: (His card falls.) “Ah’m hot as seven hells.”
Big Sweet: “Ah played de last card. Ah don’t tell lies all de time. Now, you rich son of a bitch, pay off.”
Larkins: “God! She must be sittin’ on roots! Luck is a fortune.”
Big Sweet raked in the money and passed it to me. She was about to place another bet when we heard a lot of noise outside. Everybody looked at the door at one time.
“Dat must be de Mulberry crowd. Nobody else wouldn’t keep dat much noise. Ella Wall strowin’ it.”
“She’s plenty propaganda, all right.”
Ella Wall flung a loud laugh back over her shoulder as she flourished in. Everybody looked at her, then they looked at Big Sweet. Big Sweet looked at Ella, but she seemed not to mind. The air was as tight as a fiddle string.
Ella wrung her hips to the Florida-flip game. Big Sweet stayed on at the skin game but didn’t play. Joe Willard, knowing the imminence of forthright action, suddenly got deep into the crap game.
Lucy came in the door with a bright gloat in her eyes and went straight to Ella. So far as speaking was concerned she didn’t see Big Sweet, but she did flirt past the skin game once, overcome with merriment.
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“Dat li’l narrer contracted piece uh meatskin gointer make me stomp her right now!” Big Sweet exploded. “De twofaced heifer! Been hangin’ ’round me so she kin tote news to Ella. If she don’t look out she’ll have on her last clean dress befo’ de crack of day.”
“Ah’m surprised at Lucy,” I agreed. “Ah thought you all were de best of friends.”
“She mad ’cause Ah dared her to jump you. She don’t lak Slim always playing JOHN HENRY for you. She would have done cut you to death if Ah hadn’t of took and told her.”
“Ah can see she doesn’t like it, but—”
“Neb’ mind ’bout ole Lucy. She know Ah backs yo’ fallin’. She know if she scratch yo’ skin Ah’ll kill her so dead till she can’t fall. They’ll have to push her over. Ella Wall look lak she tryin’ to make me kill her too, flourishin’ dat ole knife ’round. But she oughter know de man dat made one, made two. She better not vary, do Ah’ll be all over her jus’ lak gravy over rice.”
Lucy and Ella were alternately shoo-shooing10 to each other and guffawing. Then Ella would say something to the whole table and laugh.
Over at the Florida-flip game somebody began to sing that jook tribute to Ella Wall which has been sung in every jook and on every “job” in South Florida:
Go to Ella Wall
Oh, go to Ella Wall
If you want good boody11
Oh, go to Ella Wall
Oh, she’s long and tall
Oh, she’s long and tall
And she rocks her rider
From uh wall to wall
Oh, go to Ella Wall
Take yo’ trunk and all—
“Tell ’em ’bout me!” Ella Wall snapped her fingers and revolved her hips with her hands.
“I’m raggedy, but right; patchey but tight; stringy, but I will hang on.”
“Look at her puttin’ out her brags.” Big Sweet nudged me. “Loud-talkin’ de place. But countin’ from yo’ little finger back to the thumb; if she start anything Ah got her some.”
I knew that Big Sweet didn’t mind fighting; didn’t mind killing and didn’t too much mind dying. I began to worry a bit. Ella kept on hurling slurs. So I said, “Come on, Big Sweet, we got to go to home.”
“Nope, Ah ain’t got to do nothin’ but die and stay black. Ah stays right here till de jook close if anybody else stay. You look and see how much in dat pocket book.”