CHAPTER II
LEAVING HOME--A MAIDEN
I was seventeen when I at last left M--pls. I accepted a rough job at adollar and a quarter a day in a car manufacturing concern in a town ofeight thousand population, about eight hundred being colored. I wasunable to save very much, for work was dull that summer, and I was onlyaveraging about four days' work a week. Besides, I had an attack ofmalaria at intervals for a period of two months, but by going to work atfive o'clock A.M. when I was well I could get in two extra hours, makinga dollar-fifty. The concern employed about twelve hundred men and paidtheir wages every two weeks, holding back one week's pay. I came therein June and it was some time in September that I drew my fullest payenvelope which contained sixteen dollars and fifty cents.
About this time a "fire eating" colored evangelist, who apparentlypossessed great converting powers and unusual eloquence, came to town.These qualities, however, usually became very uninteresting toward theend of a stay. He had been to M--pls the year before I left and at thatplace his popularity greatly diminished before he left. The greater partof the colored people in this town were of the emotional kind and tothese he was as attractive as he had been at M--pls in the beginning.
Coincident with the commencement of Rev. McIntyre's soul stirringsermons a big revival was inaugurated, and although the little churchwas filled nightly to its capacity, the aisles were kept clear in orderto give those that were "steeping in Hell's fire" (as the evangelistcharacterized those who were not members of some church) an open road toenter into the field of the righteous; also to give the mournerssufficient room in which to exhaust their emotions when the spiritstruck them--and it is needless to say that they were used. At timesthey virtually converted the entire floor into an active gymnasium,regardless of the rights of other persons or of the chairs theyoccupied. I had seen and heard people shout at long intervals in church,but here, after a few soul stirring sermons, they began to run outsidewhere there was more room to give vent to the hallucination and thiswandering of the mind. It could be called nothing else, for after thefirst few sermons the evangelist would hardly be started before somemourner would begin to "come through." This revival warmed up to suchproportions that preaching and shouting began in the afternoon insteadof evening. Men working in the yards of the foundry two block away couldhear the shouting above the roaring furnaces and the deafening noise ofmachinery of a great car manufacturing concern. The church stood on acorner where two streets, or avenues, intersected and for a block ineither direction the influence of fanaticism became so intense that theconverts began running about like wild creatures, tearing their hair anduttering prayers and supplications in discordant tones.
At the evening services the sisters would gather around a mourner thatshowed signs of weakening and sing and babble until he or she became sobefuddled they would jump up, throw their arms wildly into the air,kick, strike, then cry out like a dying soul, fall limp and exhaustedinto the many arms outstretched to catch them. This was alwaysconclusive evidence of a contrite heart and a thoroughly penitent soul.Far into the night this performance would continue, and when themourners' bench became empty the audience would be searched for sinners.I would sit through it all quite unemotional, and nightly I would beapproached with "aren't you ready?" To which I would make no answer. Inoticed that several boys, who were not in good standing with theparents of girls they wished to court, found the mourners' bench aconvenient vehicle to the homes of these girls--all of whom belonged tochurch. Girls over eighteen who did not belong were subjects of muchgossip and abuse.
A report, in some inconceivable manner, soon became spread that OscarDevereaux had said that he wanted to die and go to hell. Such asensation! I was approached on all sides by men and women, regardless ofthe time of day or night, by the young men who gloried in theirconversion and who urged me to "get right" with Jesus before it was toolate. I do not remember how long these meetings lasted but they suddenlycame to an end when notice was served on the church trustees by the citycouncil, which irreverently declared that so many converts everyafternoon and night was disturbing the white neighborhood's rest aswell as their nerves. It ordered windows and doors to be kept closedduring services, and as the church was small it was impossible to housethe congregation and all the converts, so the revival ended and thecommunity was restored to normal and calm once more prevailed.
That was in September. One Sunday afternoon in October, as I was walkingalong the railroad track, I chanced to overhear voices coming from undera water tank, where a space of some eight or ten feet enclosed by fourhuge timbers made a small, secluded place. I stopped, listened and wassure I recognized the voices of Douglas Brock, his brother Melvin, andtwo other well known colored boys. Douglas was betting a quarter withone of the other boys that he couldn't pass. (You who know the dice andits vagaries will know what he meant.) This was mingled with words andcommands from Melvin to the dice in trying to make some point. It musthave been four. He would let out a sort of yowl; "Little Joe, can't youdo it?" I went my way. I didn't shoot craps nor drink neither did Ibelong to church but was called a dreadful sinner while three of theboys under the tank had, not less than six weeks before, joined churchand were now full-fledged members in good standing. Of course I did notconsider that all people who belonged to church were not Christians, butwas quite sure that many were not.
The following January a relative of mine got a job for me bailing waterin a coal mine in a little town inhabited entirely by negroes. I workedfrom six o'clock P.M. to six A.M., and received two dollars andtwenty-five cents therefor. The work was rough and hard and the minevery dark. The smoke hung like a cloud near the top of the tunnel-likeroom during all the night. This was because the fans were all but shutoff at night, and just enough air was pumped in to prevent the formationof black damp. The smoke made my head ache until I felt stupid and thedampness made me ill, but the two dollars and twenty-five cents per daylooked good to me. After six weeks, however, I was forced to quit, andwith sixty-five dollars--more money than I had ever had--I went to seemy older sister who was teaching in a nearby town.
I had grown into a strong, husky youth of eighteen and my sister wassurprised to see that I was working and taking care of myself so well.She shared the thought of nearly all of my acquaintances that I was toolazy to leave home and do hard work, especially in the winter time.After awhile she suddenly looked at me and spoke as though afraid shewould forget it, "O, Oscar! I've got a girl for you; what do you thinkof that?" smiling so pleasantly, I was afraid she was joking. You see, Ihad never been very successful with the girls and when she mentionedhaving a girl for me my heart was all a flutter and when she hesitated Iput in eagerly.
"Aw go on--quit your kidding. On the level now, or are you just chidingme?" But she took on a serious expression and speaking thoughtfully, shewent on.
"Yes, she lives next door and is a nice little girl, and pretty. Theprettiest colored girl in town."
Here I lost interest for I remembered my sister was foolish aboutbeauty and I said that I didn't care to meet her. I was suspicious whenit came to the pretty type of girls, and had observed that the prettiestgirl in town was oft times petted and spoiled and a mere butterfly.
"O why?" She spoke like one hurt. Then I confessed my suspicions. "O,You're foolish," she exclaimed softly, appearing relieved. "Besides,"she went on brightly "Jessie isn't a spoiled girl, you wait until youmeet her." And in spite of my protests she sent the landlady's littlegirl off for Miss Rooks. She came over in about an hour and I found herto be demure and thoughtful, as well as pretty. She was small ofstature, had dark eyes and beautiful wavy, black hair, and an olivecomplexion. She wouldn't allow me to look into her eyes but continued tocast them downward, sitting with folded hands and answering when spokento in a tiny voice quite in keeping with her small person.
During the afternoon I mentioned that I was going to Chicago, "NowOscar, you've got no business in Chicago," my sister spoke up with atouch of authority. "You're too young, and besides," s
he asked "do youknow whether W.O. wants you?" W.O. was our oldest brother and was thenmaking Chicago his home.
"Huh!" I snorted "I'm going on my own hook," and drawing up to my fullsix feet I tried to look brave, which seemed to have the desired effecton my sister.
"Well" she said resignedly, "you must be careful and not get into badcompany--be good and try to make a man of yourself."