Well, here we come off the sand road and step on the most level and pleasin road I ever seed, and it’s got white posts on the side with little bitty jewels shinin where the road go across the creek, and’s got a fine white line painted in the middle of it and all such things. Well! And yonder straight ahead’s all the lights of town, and here come three, four autos followin each other and havin a fine fast time, zoom, zoom, zoom.
“Well,” my brother say, “you still want to come along with me?”
“Yas’r, Slim, I shore do wantsa go with you.”
“Boy,” he say, “you and me’s hittin that old road for the WAY-yonder. Hey, lookout everybody, here we come,” and ain’t nobody ’round he say that to, but here we go jumpin down the road along two, th’ee white houses, both of us feelin so fine, and my brother say “Here we come to the outskirts of town” and wave his arm and yell “Wheee,” and we hoop-de-doop along.
Here we go by a old white house as big as the woods in back of it, and the house got white poles and a porch mighty pleasin to see up front, and ever so many grand windows clear round back, and lights shinin from out the windows on the handsome grassy yard, and my brother say “Yonder’s the ancestrial home of General Clay Tucker Jefferson Davis Calhoun retired hero of the Seventeenth Regimental Divisional Brigade of the Confederate Union ’at got hisself shot in the left side ti-bular tendon and got hisself stickpinned with a Gold Star Purple Honor of Congress medal and is now a hunnerd years old in his libr’y up yonder writin the Immemoriam Memories of the Gettysburg Shiloh Battle of Smoky Appamatoxburg, whoo!” and he carry on like that with ever’thing, and he don’t care.
And here we go jumpin ’longside a regular house, and another regular house, then they’s a whole heap of regular houses, and then they get un-regular and all red-rock color and lights pop up ever’where you see. Whoo! I never seed so many lights, and poles, and window-glass, nor so many people walkin on such even and fine roads. “This is town,” my brother say, and well, you know, it seem to me jess ’bout then I seed this here TOWN a long time ago with my mother in a au-to, when we come to the movie show one time and I was little and small and couldn’t guess to remember such things. And now here I was in town again, but I was growed-up and I was goin out to the world with my brother. Well, ever’thing began to be pow’ful fetchin to watch at.
Here we turn thu a black old place and my brother say “This here’s the alley you’re goin to wait for me in whilst I get some sandwiches for the bus,” and he put me down ’case he’s all tucker out, and he take my hand and we walk. Here we come to the end of the alley, right across from a road at’s all lit-up and brightly, but the alley it’s in a shadow for me to wait in. “Yonder’s the chicken shack,” he say. “I’ll go cross the street quick, and don’t dass let nobody see you in case the Jelkeys done woke up and fix to send somebody find us, hear? Stand right here,” he say, and push me agin the red-rock wall, and set me there, and then off he go toot across that street.
Well, grandpa, they I was with my back ain that wall, and look up at the sky betwixt it and th’other wall, and ever’where I turn my ear I hear au-tos, and folkses talkin, and all kind of noises and music, and I tell you, it was the noise of ever’body doin somethin at the same time all over with they hands and feet and voices, jess as plain. I never heard it before in the country, exceptin it come to my ear, jess like the water in the crick way yonder in the nighttime, swash, swash, and come most jumble-up and jolly. I’se so still and listenin, seem like ever’body doin somethin ’cept me. Across the street is that chicken shack, and it ain’t nothin but a little bitty old shack jess like it say, but’s got a most pow’ful bright light inside and they’s men sit-tin in front of a long table-top, and they’s eatin somethin ’at smell so good to me my mouth start waterin right where I is. They’s a heap of radio music in there, and I can hear it clear across the street loud, hear the man sing: “Where you been hiding baby, been looking everywhere, how come you treat me mean, can’t you see I care?” Well, it was fine radio music, the best I ever did hear, and come out of a big box with red and yaller lights turnin round in it. Over the door they was a wheel spin in a screen, and go humm, humm, and behind it a body could hear still another humm-humm from far away and it sound like a biggener wheel than that. Well, I reckon that was the world wheel I heard then. Wasn’t it, grandpa? Oh, I was jess pleased.
I say to myself, “I jess take two step-ups this alley,” and I move up along the wall and come to see more of the street. Whoo! It shore was brightly and pleasin.
Then here come my brother out of the chicken shack with a paper bag in his hand, and here come a bunch of men along the street, and they see him and yell, “Hey there Slim, what you doin down from NEW YORK?” And he yell, “Hello there Harry, and hello there Mr. Redtop Tenorman, and hello there Smoky Joe. Well, what you boys up to?” and they say, “Oh, we jess draggin along, you know.” And he say, “Ain’t heard you boys jump in a long time,” and they say “Oh, we jump now and then. Say, how you make it with that mustache on your chin?” My brother say, “Oh, jess goin along tryin to have a good time, you know,” and they say “Well hey now” and go off down the street and ever’body say see you later.
Yes, I shore liked town and never knowed it was so lively.
Me and brother sneak on down the alley and back to the skirts of town, and skedaddle along feelin good ’case we gets to eat some of them sandwiches soon and ’case brother say we wait for the bus by the junction, and that bus it’s about due any minute, and when we get on that bus I won’t be cold no more, and he won’t neither. “Bus station ain’t no place for us tonight, boy,” he says to me, and he say “Oh well, oh well, and who cares, I guess it’s all the same when you believe in the Lord like I do, now say, You hear me Lord?”
And we sit on the white posts with the shiny buttons in em and wait ’bout half an hour for the bus, or two half hours, I don’t recollect.
Here it come. It come big and brawly in the road, and said “WASHINGTON” on it, and the man at the wheel jam down the speed to stop for us, and it go zoom-boom right by us like it NEVER stop, and spit sand and wind and a old hot smell in my face, but stop yonder jess for us, and we run for it. Well, when I seed that big machine I said to myself “Ain’t nobody know where I’m goin in this thing but my brother watch over me from now on.”
I never see Aunt Gastonia no more now.
8. THE BUS GO UP NORTH
GRANDPA, ain’t gonta tell too much about the bus ’case a heap of doins was croppin up in NEW YORK, and I didn’t have no notion about em in that bus, and jess gawked, you know.
Well, brother and me paid the man some money, then we walked back thu the people in the seats and ever’body look at us and we look at them, then we sit down in the back sofa, only it ain’t rightly a soft sofa, and there we sit lookin straight ahead over ever’body’s head at the driver, and he turn off the light and zoom-up the bus, and faster and faster we go with two big old lights leadin us the way thu the land. Brother fall asleep right away, but I stayed awake. I reckon we left North Carolina after ’bout a half hour, or two half hours, ’case the road done change from black to brown and on each side of it I didn’t get to see no more houses but jess the wilderness. I guess it was jess great big old woods without no houses, and dark? and black? and jess as solemn? It was the wilderness Aunt Gastonia pray about when she pray agin it so loud.
And here come the rain pourin down on that wilderness, and the road run wet and lonesome right thu it.
It was a scarifyin thing to see and make a body glad he’s in a bus with a whole lot of people.
I watched ever’body all night long, but they was most sleepin in their chairs and it was too black to see, and I tried to see, but it wasn’t no use. I shore didn’t wantsa go to sleep that night.
I say to myself “Pic, you’re going to New York now, and ain’t it somethin, now ain’t it?” and I prod myself, and feel good.
And I got all sleepy p’culiar in m’eyes ’case
I sleep this time of the evenin back home here, and over to Aunt Gastonia’s too, so next thing I know I jess has to sleep, and that’s all I done that night.
Come ’bout mornin I look up and see where I am, in the bus, and can’t believe it, and say to myself “Now that’s why I’se bouncin so dadblame much.” And I look over to brother, and he’s still sleepin and’s got the whole back sofa to hisself and’s all stretched out loose and peaceful, and I’se pleased to see him sleep so ’case I know he must be tired. And I look out the window.
And you know, I never seed anything so pow’ul grand and big, and I seed pow’fuller and grander things since then, all the way to Californy. What I seed then was jess like when the first time I seed the world I tell you. It was a great river with a tree shore on both sides, and poureds a whole power of water betwixt the land about a mile long, and then it spread out yonder all flat I guess for to pass off to the sea. Way yonder on a hill they was a big old white house with posts on the porch like I seed the night before, a ancestrial home of a General retired hero of Appamatoxburg like brother said, and on the other side of the river I seed a grand and fearsome housetop, all white and round and jess like a handsome cup upside down, with little bitty far away trees and tiny little roofs rounderneath it. The man in front said to his wife, “Yonder’s the Capitol dome darling” and point to it, and that’s what it was. And they was the finest, softenest wind blew in from the land to the river, and make ever’thing ripple and jump in the water all over, most peaceful. The sun shine on that grand fine Capitol dome and hit flush on a streamer ’at’s tied to a gold pole way on top of it, and do it dazzly, too. All that land I told you we done roll over in the bus all night, here we was in the middle of it, ’case they never was a town so white and so laid out grand, and brother woke up and said “This here is the city of Washington the nation’s capitol where the President of the United States of America and ever’body is,” and he rub his eyes, and I look close and can see they’s a heap of things goin on yonder in Washington ’case I hear it hum all over when the bus slow down at the river red light and I put my head out the window to watch. Well, and I never seed such a big sky, and so many fine, solemn clouds as passed over Washington of the United States ’at mornin.
After that, grandpa, I didn’t get to sleep much. It was mighty hot inside the city of Washington when we stopped there and had to change to another bus ’at said NEW YORK on it, and crowded? Ever’body in the world lined up for that New York bus, and sat inside sweatin. I couldn’t sleep no more except on brother’s arm, and had to sit up straight in that back sofa and drop my head over most uncomfortable, and his poor shoulder was so hot. Busdriver man say “Baltimore next stop,” but run off to do somethin else instead and don’t come back f’the longest time. Well, I wished we was back on that NIGHT bus in the WILDERNESS. Babies was cryin all up and down the bus, and felt jess as bad as I did I guess. I look out the window and all I see is the wall on one side, and the wall th’other side, and the sun beat down on the roof, and whew! it was so daggone hot I was sickish. I say to myself “Why don’t nobody open a window in here?” and I look around and ever’body’s sweatin but don’t make a move for the window. I say to Slim “Less open a window or we’s dead.” And Slim pull and tug and rassle at that window, but can’t bulge it one bit. “Phew!” he say. “This must be one of them modern air-conditioned buses. Phew!” Slim say “Less go, bus, and blow some air in here.” And a man up front turn around and give us a look, then he try to open his window, and can’t bulge it, and sweat and cuss over it. Here come a big soldier-man and he reach out and give that window one big pull-up, and it don’t bulge none. So ever’body look straight ahead and go on sweatin.
Well, you know that busdriver man come back and seed Slim pullin some more at that window, and he said “Please leave the windows alone, this happens to be an air-conditioned bus” and he turn on a button up front when he start the bus, and I tell you the finest cool air began to blow all over that bus, only thing is, ever’body got cold in a minute and the sweat turns on me like ice water. So Slim, he tugged at that window again to get some hot air back in, but couldn’t do it, and we look thu the window at them beautiful green fields, and Slim said they was MARYLAND, and wished he was settin in the sunny grass. I reckon ever’body felt the same way too.
Grandpa, travelin ain’t the easiest and pleas-ingest thing in the world but you shore gets to see many innerestin things and don’t go ’bout it backwards neither.
When we got to Philadelphia folks got out the bus and me and Slim got ourselves a new seat smackdab up front in the driver’s window, and bought-up some ice-cold soda orange and ain’t nothin better when you feel sickish. Slim said “We can sit up front now because we crossed the Mason Dixie line,” and I axed him what that was, and he said it was the line of the law for Jim Crow, and when I axed him who Jim Crow was, he said “That’s you, boy.”
“I ain’t no Jim Crow anyhow,” I told him, “’case you know my name is Pictorial Jackson.”
“Oh,” says Slim, “is that so? Well, I never knowed that, uh-huh. Looky-here Jim,” he said, “don’t you know about the law that says you can’t sit in the front of the bus when the bus runs below the Mason Dixie line?”
“What for you call me Jim?”
“Now Jim!” he says, and cluck-cluck at me solemn. “You mean to tell me you don’t know about that line?”
“What line?” I say. “I ain’t seed no such a line.”
“What?” he say. “Why, we just crossed it back there in Maryland. Didn’t you see Mason and Dixie holdin that line across the road?”
“Well,” I says, “did we run over it or underneath it?” and I’se tryin to recollect such a thing but jess cain’t. “Well,” I say, “I guess I musta been sleepin then.”
And Slim laugh, and push my hair, and slap his knee. “Jim, you kill me!”
“What did that line look like?” I axed him, ’case I wasn’t old enough to know it was a joke yet, you see. Well, Slim said he didn’t know what such a line looked like neither on account he never seed it any more than I did.
“But there is such a line, only thing is, it ain’t on the ground, and it ain’t in the air neither, it’s jess in the head of Mason and Dixie, jess like all other lines, border lines, state lines, parallel thirty-eight lines and iron Europe curtain lines is all jess ’maginary lines in people’s heads and don’t have nothin to do with the ground.”
Grandpa, Slim said that jess as quiet, and didn’t call me Jim no more, and said to hisself “Yes sir, that’s all it is.”
The busdriver man come back, and said “All aboard for NEW YORK” and like I tell you ’bout travelin and not goin backwards, we jess went forwards. Whoo! Straight ahead was that New York road, and all the traffic of the cars cuttin in and out, zoom, zip, but that driver man jess sit at that wheel ’thout movin a muscle and look right ahead and push his big machine straight on thu as fast as he can go. Anybody come out of a side street and see us comin, why they jess freeze right up and let us come by. That bus man jess cleared the way for hisself, he don’t care. The others don’t care neither ’case they jess barely miss us and go zip thisaway and zip thataway after they miss. I reckon his bus couldn’t ever stop if somebody got dead in the way, and then you couldn’t find their pieces if he did, and couldn’t look for the pieces except in the next county. Grandpa, you never seed such drivin and breezin along and ever’body so nonchalant about it, and so sure. I tell you, I couldn’t look.
Slim, he was asleep again and this time his head dropped on my arm jess like mine done on his arm in Washington, and slept like that with his eyes closed right in front of the window and here’s that bus man carryin him on thu all that road jess as faithful as you please. Slim wasn’t scairt none, nor flinched awake or asleep. Well, I shore did love him a whole lot jess then, and said to myself, “Pic, you had no call bein scairt last night when he come and carried you thu the woods and told you not to worry. Now, Pic, you gotsa grow up this minute
for Slim. You ain’t no country boy now.”
So I look straight ahead thu the window, and there we go north to NEW YORK in that tremenjous bus.
9. FIRST NIGHT IN NEW YORK
NOW I GOTSA TELL YOU ’BOUT EVER’THING happened in New York and how it happened so fast I jess barely had time to see what New York was like. You see, we come in I believe May 29th to stay and three days later we was all balled up and got to go on the road again, so you see how quick people has to live up in New York and how we was.
When I seed New York was from that bus, and Slim poked me up from the seat and said “Here we are in New York” and I looked and the sun was red all over, I looked again, and rubbed my eyes to wake up, for grandpa, we was goin over a long big bridge at run over a whole sight of rooftops and all I has to do is look down to see the chillun runnin betwixt the houses below, Slim said it wasn’t New York yet, jess the HOBOKEN SKYWAY he said, and pointed up ahead to show me New York. Well I jess could barely see a whole heap of walls and lanky steeples way, way off yonder all cloudy inside the smoke. Then I looked all round, and grandpa, it was the most monstrous and tremenjous stretch of rooftops and streets, and bridges and railroads, and boats and water, and great big things Slim said was gas tanks, and walls, and junkyards, and power lines, and in the middle of it set this old swamp ’at’s got tall green grass and yalter oil in the water, and rusty rafts long the shore. It was a sight like I never dreamed to see. And here come more of it where we turn the bridge, and ever’thing’s so smoky and tremenjous, and so laid-out far I can’t watch at some least littlest point of it without I see some more heaped up yonder behind it in the fog and smoke. Well grandpa, and that ain’t all:—I told you the sun was red, and that was ’case jess then the sun was peekin thu a big hole in the clouds up in Heaven, and was sendin down great long sun-fingers ever’whichway from the hole, and it was all jess so rosy and purty like if’n God come down thu the smoke to see the world. Well jess before I woked up I guess ever’body in New York done put on they lights, and I guess it was dark then, on account now all them lights they put on was caught feeble and strange in the red sunlight and ever’where I look was them po lights burnin up ’lectricity for nothin, deep inside the streets and the alleys, up on the walls, up on top the bridges, thisaway in the awful fog and thata-way on the soft rosy water, and they jess tremble and shake jess like ever’thing’s a big old campfire folks done lit before sundown and didn’t dass put it out yet, ’case they knowed it wasn’t no real day for long. Well, next thing you know, the sun turn purple and blue and leave jess one peel of fire on the cloudbank, and it gets almost dark.