The Rose: A Saga of an American Family

By Frankie David Rawlerson

The Rose is a narrative journey covering four generations of the Baylord Family from rural North Carolina to Harlem New York in the early 1940s A journey filled with visions and dreams of bright lights, fortune, and new beginnings in the fast paced streets of the new promise land; Harlem, New York. As the elder of his two younger siblings; David Baylord takes you on a thirty year journey filled with love, excitement, raw emotion, drama, intrigue, and mystery. Travel with him as he takes you through the swinging era of the 40s, the growing pains of the 50s, and the turbulent and volatile years of the 1960s Davids narrative closely follows the intriguing and provocative life of his headstrong baby sister Rose after she decides to follow him and his younger brother, Lil Will to Harlem to fulfill her dream of becoming a dancer. Rose quickly learns the paths shell travel are not always straight, but filled with winding roads and sometimes, dead end streets. Frankie David Rawlerson displays an amazing gift of historical insight as he takes you back into a by-gone era and explores the detail lives and events of exciting people and places; as through he were personally an eye witness of a time preceding his years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543435351

Frankie David Rawlerson

Born in Harlem New York; Frankie David Rawlerson spent his childhood in Brooklyn and Queens in the fifties and sixties. After the death of his parents at a very early age; he was raised by his loving southern family which consisted of scores of uncles, aunts, and extended family. Among them were church folk, number runners, partiers, and some very colorful characters that became the inspiration for the writings he would later put to pen and paper. Vivid memories of Friday night card parties, Saturday night clubbing, and Sunday dinners at Momma’s house still spark loving memories. Although growing up in the cities of New York; it was the summer trips and vacations down south as child that nurtured his desire to one day return to his inherited roots. After High School, he served honorably as a Vietnam Combat Veteran in the US Army and returned to New York where he continued his education through the GI Bill at Fordham University. It was there that he discovered his gift for storytelling, writing short stories, and poetry. Relocating from New York in 1978, he and his young family lived in Atlanta Georgia and South Florida where he pursued a successful career in Marketing and Sales Management. Now retired, and living in South Florida; he decided to fulfil his dream of completing this exciting novel. Based on fond childhood memories and stories passed down by family elders and years of extensive historical research; he has created this monumental and epic classic; THE ROSE “Saga of an American Family”.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The torrid heat of the Carolina summer of 1934 was ending.

The crisp, cool early morning air smelled of burning hickory combined with the heavy aroma of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon from the black cast iron kitchen stove, which perpetually stayed hot.

A month or so into autumn was always my favorite time of year. The dark earth around our house was covered with multicolored leaves and acorns from the old oak. Giant pecan trees in our front yard were shedding their annual harvest.

Daddy always encouraged my brothers and sisters to pick up the bushels of pecans to sell on the side of the road. The proceeds from our bounty were divided among the six of us to buy what we wished on our monthly trips into town to purchase what staple goods we needed: flour, sugar, salt, and maybe some material or yarn for Mama. Everything else we needed was either grown or raised on our farm.

I had been saving my share for a new BB gun on display at the general store in Grifton. My little sister, Rosemarie, had her eyes on a pair of grown-up looking patent leather shoes for church.

I was always facinated by the tiny chipmunks and squirrels gathering the fallen nuts to store away for their winter food supply. Packing their tiny cheeks to capacity, they’d scurry up a tree to a safe and secure winter dwelling. It was a mystery how they were able to remember and locate the ones they buried in the ground. My older brother Sonny said they couldn’t possibly remember where they hid them all, but I never believed him.

My youngest sister, Rosemarie, stood on the front porch in her bare feet, waiting to ring the breakfast bell. She looked out over the vast landscape, looking for the first sight of the mule-drawn wagons returning from the tobacco fields, still damp from the early-morning dew.

Suddenly she shouted out, Mama, they comin’! Rosemarie shouted as the first wagon appeared. The wagons were overloaded with hundreds of pounds of fresh-cut tobacco. This was the beginning of our fall harvest. It looked like it was going to be a good year; even though the country was in the midst of a depression, the price of tobacco was doing fairly well on the open market.

Rosie pulled the rope to sound the bell again. Daddy and the field hands were coming in for the morning breakfast. Rosemarie did not like to be called Rosie. Everyone except Mama called her that. Mama would say, If I wanted my child’s name to be Rosie, I would have named her that when she was born. Her name is Rosemarie Baylord.

The field hands returning were the first of the morning crew who had been in the fields since first light. It was only eight o’clock in the morning. The field hands had been out since five thirty.

The mule-drawn wagons were arriving, one after another, filling the yard in front of the drying barn.

Daddy usually was the last to bring up the rear. When his wagon was spotted by her, Rosie would call out, Mama! Daddy’s comin’ now!

The last of the full tobacco-laden wagon was being driven by Daddy, Robert Baylord. Most folks, including Mama, just called him Boss. He was Mr. Boss, Uncle Boss, and sometimes Daddy Boss to my older siblings. He was landlord, landowner, and patriarch of the Baylord family.

Robert Baylord’s voice could be heard from the drying barn, shouting his youngest daughter’s name, Rosie, Rosie, get me some hot water so I can wash some of this tobacco sap off my hands!

Rosemarie yelled back at him, Daddy, stop all the fuss. I’ll be there as soon as I fetch a pail.

Lugging the heavy wooden pail across the yard was a task for the small girl. Little Rosie awkwardly stumbled across the yard, scattering chickens and lazy yard dogs in her path. Rosemarie was the jewel of Daddy’s heart. She was the only one besides Mama that dared to talk back or challenge his authority. Sitting on an old chair in front of the tobacco barn, Daddy was lighting his pipe when he heard Rosie fussing as she approached him.

Daddy, I’m comin’. I was fetchin’ water for the field hands so they can eat. How cum Sonny or one of the other boys can’t help fetch water when they come in? That damn wooden bucket is heavy, and all the while, everybody’s callin’, ‘Rosie! Rosie!’ I hate that name. My name is Rosemarie Baylord, not damn Rosie. I’m tired of fetchin’ things ’cause I the youngest.

Robert looked down at her and inwardly smiled. She was small for her age; but she had the strength, drive, and determination of most people twice her age. Rosie dropped the heavy bucket at her father’s feet. Daddy, get one of the others to fetch water from now on. I ain’t doin’ it no damn more.

Robert looked sternly at his little woman of barely twelve years. Daddy sat back in his chair, attempting to light his pipe, and address her at the same time, Girl, I done told you ’bout that mouth of yours. I’ll take off my belt and tan your little ass ’til you can’t sit down for a week and then wash your mouth out with lye soap. Now get on back to the house and help your mama with breakfast.

Rosemarie stubbornly turned and walked away. Robert smiled. In his heart, he felt his little Rosie could do or say no wrong. She was Robert Boss Baylord’s little princess. She was his baby girl.

Rosemarie opened the screen door to the kitchen. My mother, Marjorie, and oldest sister, Connie, were busy stirring a big pot of grits and scrambling eggs. Not just for the family but for the twenty or so field hands who wanted something to eat.

Mama made sure there was always plenty to go around. Along with the grits and eggs, there were always pans of corn bread or biscuits. Leftovers from the previous night’s dinner were always available to supplement the hungry field hands. She knew this would be the only meal for some. Smothered chicken and collards from yesterday were on the menu this morning. Smoked ham and sausage from the smokehouse was always plentiful.

When all was ready, Mama, Connie, and Rosie carried the food out to the long wooden table in the yard. The food was blessed, and everyone helped themselves to the Southern buffet spread out for all to get their fill. They bought their own bowls and cups from home each morning. Mama had a rule: Eat it all or take it with you. Any food left is just going to the dogs and the hogs.

Back in the house, the long dining table was set. Marjorie and the rest of the Baylord clan waited for Robert to bless the table before being seated. Mama always prepared his plate before any of us was allowed to serve ourselves.

There were six children in our family. The oldest daughter, Esther, died when I was just a baby. They say she died of scarlet fever. Robert Jr. and Connie are twins. Robert was born forty minutes earlier and never lets Connie forget it. The whole family calls Robert Jr. by his nickname (Sonny). Daddy had named him after his brother, Sonny Baylord, who died in the Spanish American War in Cuba in ’98.

Sonny had Daddy’s spirit of adventure. He didn’t want to be the heir to the Baylord farm as expected, being the oldest and namesake of Daddy. Sonny and Connie had both finished high school. Connie was attending a business and secretarial school in Goldsboro. She wanted to get a job working for an attorney so she could help Daddy with the increasing demand of keeping proper ledgers and books for the family farm.

Sonny had no desires of staying in the South. He wanted to join the navy or, like Daddy, the merchant marines to travel the world. Mama and Daddy always wanted him to attend North Carolina A&T to study agriculture. They dreamed of him taking over the running of the farm, but Sonny had bigger dreams that did not include being a farmer for the rest of his life.

I was born five years later, second to the oldest son. Mama named me after her father, David Alexander.

In August of this summer, I turned sixteen. The fact that my brother Sonny had no desire of inheriting the farm placed a burden on my heart. I always knew farming was not the life I envisioned, but I felt the weight of family expectations was being placed on my shoulders.

Like my brother Sonny, I shared visions of another life away from this farm where I had been born and raised. I had no desire to go into military service, but I knew there was a world out there to discover.

I really didn’t know what life had in store for me. My visions never quite went beyond my present circumstances. God had blessed me with more talents than I knew what to do with. I guess you could say I was the proverbial jack of all trades. I never excelled in sports, but I had the ability to participate in most pretty well.

At an early age I discovered I had artistic talents. I was able to draw pictures and enjoyed sketching landscapes and animals with pencils, charcoal, or whatever I found to make a mark on paper. As I got older, I discovered that I loved to read books, mostly books about history, geography, and famous people and places.

Mrs. Peters at church allowed me to come over to her house to browse through her collection of National Geographic.

From an early age, I recognized that young girls were attracted to me because of my curly hair and rudder complexion I had inherited from both my parents of mixed heritage. In spite of that, I was also somewhat reserved and not outgoing and bold as my younger brother William.

I remember as a child overhearing Mama telling someone that she unconsciously cursed me when she named me after her father. According to rumor, he was shot and killed by a preacher who caught him in bed with his wife.

A year younger than me was my sister Katherine (Kat). We all called her Kat because she inherited Daddy’s gray eyes. Katherine possessed the beauty of Mama. Her raven-black hair was curly and long. Creamy caramel was the color of her skin. People always said she’d give Lena Horne a run for her money.

Kat loved to play piano like Mama. She dreamed of going to North Carolina State College to be a music teacher. I always felt Kat’s life would turn out exactly as she envisioned. She was a natural actress and stole every opportunity to step into the limelight. She was the prima donna of the Baylord family.

My youngest brother is William Lafayette Baylord (Lil Will). He was small for his age until about a year ago after his fourteenth birthday. It seemed that one day he was a runt, and to everyone’s astonishment, he grew six inches in less than a year. It was almost like overnight he grew an inch or so taller than me.

Mama always did say he was going to be taller than Daddy, who stood over six feet tall. Will was the athlete in the family. He loved running track and playing baseball. He was already playing varsity sports in our local high school in his freshman year.

We all prayed he’d get a sports scholarship to go to college. Mama used to say that of all her sons, William was going to bust hell wide open. Lil Will was the ladies’ man in the family. He was chasing little girls’ panties since he was a boy of five or six.

There wasn’t a girl cousin or a neighbor safe when he was around. Mama suspected the oldest daughter of one of our cousins was the one who exposed him to his sinful ways when he was still just a young boy. The rest of us never told what we knew, but she was right in her suspicions.

Our cousin Melissa, who was probably about eighteen by now, was known for givin’ it out to my brothers and half the boys within twenty miles. She had two babies by the age of sixteen by two different daddies.

Last to bless the Baylord family was my little sister Rosemarie. Rosemarie was not planned or expected. Mama was told by her doctor that she’d never be able to birth another child after William was born.

When she found out she was having another child, we all begged her not to take the risk. I’ll never forget that night at the dinner table when Mama told us that God spoke to her in a dream and told her not to worry. She said he told her the child would be a girl and be blessed. God even told her what her name would be.

No one dared to speak or comment when Marjorie Baylord said, God said. Not even Daddy. Daddy was the patriarch and strong head of our family, but always, he respected his wife’s special relationship with God. Mama was the spiritual backbone in our house. There wasn’t a meal eaten in our house before giving thanks. Before I was able to walk or talk, Mama had us all on our knees, kneeling and praying before bedtime, every night.

Headstrong and bold, even at her young age, Rosemarie showed everyone that she was born to be independent and a leader. When she was a little girl, playing with others, she always took charge. She dictated what to play and what role, if any, her playmates would have in the game. Even in school, her teachers recognized her leadership abilities. Rosemarie’s dream from an early age was to be a famous dancer or a fashion designer.

On our monthly trips to Grifton to buy staples, Daddy would let her browse the magazines at the general store. Rosemarie came across a picture article about a place in New York called the Cotton Club. The pictures showed beautiful leggy colored women dressed in scantily clad outfits, dancing and having a great time. Daddy allowed her to purchase the magazine. That was a year ago. Over her bed and in her scrapbook is every picture from that magazine.

Mama had caught her many times late at night sneaking to find music to dance to on our one and only radio. Rosie never lost the dream or desire to one day go to New York and dance at the Cotton Club.

Sunday mornings our clothes had been washed, ironed, and ready for church. Mama played piano and organ at services. Marjorie Baylord and her six children were going to be at church every Sunday when the doors opened. Some Sundays we’d go back for evening services after our dinner. She’d say, Sunday is the Lord’s day. God gave you six whole days to yourselves. As long as I got breath, and you livin’ in my house, Sunday is God’s day and you all will be in his house.

I recall Daddy going to church on rare occasions: funerals, Christmas, Easter, or when one of us was singing a solo for a special service. Daddy was a praying man but confessed he never cared much for preachers and hypocrite church folk. A lot of them, including one of the preacher’s sons, were frequent visitors to his whiskey still on a regular base.

Daddy made corn whiskey and the best peach brandy in the county. I remember many a night when Will and I snuck out at night to steal some of Daddy’s brandy. We’d almost have to crawl back to the house after a few chugs of the potent brew. Crawling through our bedroom window without waking anyone was not always an easy task. Eventually, we got caught by Mama. Our punishment was long and hard, but to this day, I don’t think she ever told Daddy.

My father and patriarch of our family was Robert Jefferson Boss Baylord. He was born in Virginia in 1889. He was the middle child of thirteen brothers and sisters.

Boss was what country folk call a strapping, good-lookin’ nigga with good hair. He possessed a ruddy, almost earthlike complexion. His curly hair and gray eyes spoke about his obvious mix of culture.

Daddy never spoke much about his family or past. I recalled hearing him speak of his mother who was born during slavery. She lived and worked on land owned by the Baylords. Robert’s father was Horace Baylord’s youngest son, Jefferson. I never knew if his mother had been forcibly taken or she had a mutual clandestine relationship going on with young Jefferson.

Daddy’s father was Master Jefferson Baylord II. From stories I’ve heard over the years, he must have been some rascal. Daddy says he doesn’t remember much about him. His mother, Carrie, worked as a cook and nanny to master Jefferson’s three other kids by his wife. Even so, Daddy never heard her speak evil or good about the white man who fathered him.

Mama used to tell us stories with a gleam in her eyes of her youth and how she met Daddy. There were evenings on the front porch when she would reminisce about her younger life.

I vividly remember Mama telling us the story of how she and Daddy first met. At the age of seventeen, Robert left home to join the merchant marines. He had been away for two years and was home on furlough when I met him, exclaimed Mama.

It was at a Sunday church service in Virginia. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Apparently, his opinion of me was obviously mutual. I ain’t shame to admit I was quite a looker in my time and a prime catch for any man. I could have had my pick of any boy in the whole county, if I had a mind to. That very same year he asked me to marry him, and I became Mrs. Robert Baylord.

"Word was at an early age your daddy’s paternal grandmother took a liking to him. She wanted to send him to school or maybe even to one of those colored colleges. He reminded her of her prodigal son Jefferson, who spent very little time home. I’m sure it was due to his resemblance to his father and certainly not his ways. Young Jefferson’s lifestyle was not looked upon favorably by his mother. He was a man about town and a gentleman of the evening. Master Jefferson squandered his money on gambling and whores from Virginia to New Orleans from the time he was eighteen years old.

"Not long into our marriage, ol’ Lady Baylord died. She had left your daddy an inheritance of over a hundred acres of farmland here in Grifton, where she was born. Some months later, me and your Daddy moved into this very house. Our firstborn daughter, Esther, was just a few months old when she came down with the scarlet fever and went home to be with the Lord.

Your daddy worked this land into something to be proud of. We didn’t always have field hands to help out. Boss would work those fields from sunup to sundown, sometimes seven days a week. He always had a way with making money and bargaining. Today we own over six hundred acres of the best farmland in the county. All our field workers live on our land. Boss gave each family ten acres to farm their own crops. They all signed a ten-year lease when they came to live here. After ten years of planting and harvesting for us, he’d sign over the deed to their farm free and clear.

It wasn’t always easy for us. The country was going through a depression. The money we earned for our crops was barely enough to buy enough seed for next year’s planting. We managed to hold our own and the respect of most the community. Your daddy would say, ‘A black man in this world got to buy respect. There ain’t a white man in this whole county going to respect a nigga with no money.’

Mama was from Richmond, Virginia. Her Christian name was Marjorie Vernice Timberlake. The family Bible puts her date of birth at 1894. She’s never said her age and won’t tell you if she’s asked. She told us that she was sixteen when she met Robert. She was a mixture of African, white, and Indian blood. Her parents were poor sharecroppers who had lived on the same land for almost one hundred years during slavery times.

Daddy had seen her once, years earlier, on one of his trips to Richmond to sell tobacco and produce at the state market. According to Daddy, not ever had he seen such a beautiful girl. He thought that God’s hands hadn’t formed a more perfect creature since he made Eve. From her head to her feet, she was everything he had ever envisioned about a woman. Marjorie had long black curly hair that fell to her midback. At a little more than five feet tall, she possessed the figure and curves of a woman ten years her senior. Her complexion was like bronze, radiating in the sunlight. He knew at first sight that this girl was to be his wife and the mother of his children.

Six months later, Robert made the trip back to Richmond to ask her father for her hand in marriage. Her father knew the Baylord name well. He had no hesitation in saying yes for the handsome dowry of $50 and a wagonload of cured tobacco.

Mornings seemed to come quickly on a farm. The field hands began arriving at the house just as the sun peaked above the horizon. The earth was still cool and damp from the morning dew. Entire families—men, women, and children of all ages—arrived out of the dim morning light. They all shared the common bond of being born poor, black, and descendants of African slaves. Their colors ranged from blue black to brown, to tan, to almost white.

They gathered together here every morning from Mondays to Fridays, and sometime Saturdays, during harvest. They came to cut, harvest, and haul the wet green sticky tobacco leaves back to the drying barn for curing. Every able-bodied man, woman, and child worked the fields, cutting and loading the mule-drawn wagons to capacity.

Back at the curing barn, young women nursing babies and those too elderly to work the fields readied the long tying tables for their chore to begin. When the full wagons reached the barn, it was their job to separate the leaves into manageable bunches. The leaves were tied together and hung on a long wooden post. When the posts were full, my brothers and I would form a line to hoist the heavy rods of tobacco high up on cross beams in the barn to naturally air-dry.

Days, weeks, and months passed quickly in the country. Planting and harvesting never ended. If it wasn’t tobacco, it was corn or tomatoes or peanuts or chickens or cows or mules or pigs. The only changes for sure were the four seasons, an occasional birth, and inevitable death.

CHAPTER 1

William (Lil Will)

My brother William was the first in our family to leave home. It was well-known, by the time he turned sixteen, Will was destined for a life of turmoil and trouble. His grades started falling in his second year of high school. No longer were sports an outlet for his restlessness.

Will started hanging out with boys much older than he was. He was beginning to stay out all hours of night getting drunk at the local juke joint. It was rumored that he had fathered a child by a woman twice his age. It became common for the local police to bring Will home after spending a night in jail for fighting or disorderly conduct. They would just drop him on the front steps and leave him to sleep it off. Anyone else would have been sentenced to a North Carolina chain gang, but he was Boss Baylord’s boy.

By the time he turned seventeen, Will stood a few inches taller than Daddy. Mama and Daddy were at their wit’s end as to what to do about the way his life was going. He started staying away from home for days. Sometimes a week would go by before he’d show up to eat a decent meal and get a clean change of clothes. I knew the real reason he came home was to get money from Mama. Daddy had pretty much cut him off.

One night after a heated argument with Mama, Daddy pulled a shotgun on Will and threatened to kill him if he ever disrespected Mama again. I think he would have shot him dead if Mama hadn’t pleaded with him to just let him go.

I remember Will, always fearless and quick tempered. He was never a bully, but the boys in school feared him. Will never backed down from a fight, no matter the size or the odds. He would fight anyone.

I looked up to Will even though he was my baby brother. I wanted to be just like him. I liked hanging out with him. I guess I admired his wild side. He’d take me into places I’d dare not go alone. He was respected and feared everywhere we went.

To my astonishment, ladies physically fought one another for his attention. I never understood why. He treated them like trash. The more he disrespected them, the more they wanted him.

One Friday night Will came home to get some clean clothes. On the way out, he stopped by my room asked me if I wanted to go hang out with him later that night. Hesitatingly I responded, Sure, Will, but you know Mama ain’t gonna let me go nowhere with you.

Will grinned and said, You don’t have to let her know. I’ll have you back before day. Around about eleven, when everyone is sleep, crawl out the back window and meet me over by the grove. I’m gonna have a car. We’ll go out and have a blast, just me and my big brother. He laughed as he walked out the door.

That night I went to bed with my clothes on, nervously anticipating my escape and adventure with Will. After all lights were out and the house got quiet, I crawled out my window and ran as fast as I could to get far from the house. When I got to the grove, I saw a car parked with the lights out. Being as quiet as possible, I called his name, Will, are you in there? I heard someone in the car, but I couldn’t see anyone. Nervously I called again. I heard his muffled voice.

Yeah, Dave, come on over and get in.

When I got to the car, I saw Will’s naked behind moving up and down on someone in the backseat of the car. Lil Will, is that you?

He answered back, Yeah, bro, get in the car, man. The keys are in the ignition. Start it up and let’s go. You drive. This is too good to stop now.

Before starting the car, I looked in my mirror at the backseat. To my astonishment, the other legs thrown across the back of the seat belonged to a white girl. Dave, start the car and let’s get on the road. Make a left and head to Goldsboro. I got to meet up with some friends and take care of some business.

My biggest concern was not where we were going or even whose car I was driving. It was being caught on a back road with this white girl and two niggas in a car.

When I got to the main road, I didn’t breathe before we left the city limit. Not that any city was safe for coloreds. The fact that my brother was screwing this white girl was enough reason to be hung with no questions asked.

From the sounds of things in the back, Will and his white girl were finished for the moment. Darla, say hello to my big brother, David. He’s a good-lookin’ nigga just like me, ain’t he? My mama and daddy didn’t make no ugly nigga babies. Ain’t that right, bro?

He spoke to the blushing white girl. I want you and your friends to show him a good time tonight, you hear?

Hey, bro, you want a hit of this hooch? This is some good shit. Darla’s ol’ man makes this shit. I believe it’s smoother than Daddy’s.

It suddenly occurred to me that the white girl back there with my brother was Wesley Aikens’s youngest girl.

Oh shit! Wesley Aikens was one of the worst nigga haters in the whole county. That cracker hated niggas so much he would not only hang and castrate us but would also tar and feather his own daughter if he knew she was screwing nigga’s. His family’s been Klan since the Civil War.

Some years back Daddy outbid him on a piece of prime land down by the lake. When he found out who had gotten the land, he swore to poison all the livestock on that land.

For years we used to find mutilated cattle down by the lake. When we were kids, Sonny and Daddy found goats with their entrails hanging out. One was hanged in a tree. Written in blood on the tree was the name Baylord. Daddy knew it was Aiken and his boys who did it. He told the police, but most of them were Klan members with Aiken. They said there was no proof he did it but they would investigate. Daddy told the sheriff that if he ever saw an Aiken or one of his boys on his property, he would shoot his ass and feed him to his hogs.

It was just after midnight when we arrived in Goldsboro. Will lifted his head. Make a left on that next road up there. Just stay on it ’til we reach the end. Bro, we gonna have some fun tonight.

It was a moonless night. The dirt road was narrow and full of rain holes. Will told me to turn my headlights off. I panicked. Man, I can’t see the road now. How the hell I’m gonna follow it in the dark?

Just turn ’em off. Your eyes will adjust in a second or two. Up ahead about a half mile, you’ll see all the cars. Just keep going.

The road ended to a clearing where dozens of cars were haphazardly parked around an old barn-looking structure. Scores of colored men and women were standing around outside, loudly laughing and having a good time. Beer cans and empty bottles of booze were strewn all over the ground. The music was jumping inside. The sound of a piano, guitar, and drum were rocking a sultry blues while a rather large black lady belted out a Bessie Smith song to the rhythm. I turned off the car and waited for Will’s instructions.

Get out Bro, before this crazy bitch pisses on herself. She’s been fucked up all night. All she wants to do is screw and suck some black snake. There’s plenty of black dick in here that’ll pay good money for this prime white piece of ass. Before the night is done, our pockets will be fat. Two or three more of her girlfriends supposed to meet us here. There’s a lot of money down here tonight, and these nigga’s are big spenders.

It wasn’t long before I realized that almost everyone knew my brother. He was a celebrity among the crowds of people. Everybody we passed on the way inside called him by name. I felt kind of proud being his brother. I was astonished at how many people were there. The old barn had crudely been converted into a juke joint with a bar, tables, and a stage for the band. There were fine ladies scantily dressed in tight dresses and high heels, waiting tables. Not only was the booze flowing, but you could also order a meal of barbecue, collard greens, and fresh corn bread. The big spenders had their tables set up with bottles of their choice for their special guests. The dirt floor had been covered with fine sawdust to keep the dust down.

People were everywhere. They were on the dance floor. Several had climbed up on the old hay lofts. The women seemed to outnumber the men two to one. Some of the finest-colored girls I ever laid eyes on were there. I never saw so much ass and exposed breasts in my life. I was glad I took the risk to sneak out of the house.

Sprinkled about the crowd was a handful of white girls. They were special guests of the big wheels who frequently visited when passing through town. These wheels were the big-time hustlers who were known gamblers, pimps, and peddlers of moonshine and dope. They were easy to spot by their flamboyant attire. Double-breasted pinstripes and Stacy Adams were staples. The more successful you were, the more gold you had in your mouth and on your fingers. Their cars were their homes. It always amazed me how they kept their cars and their shoes always shiny and clean. Most of them had their hair straightened with lye and hot curled. Conks, processes, and Marcel’s were the rave of the time. These were the slickest niggas I’d ever seen under one roof.

Lil Will shouted over the loud music, Dave, come over here and meet a good friend of mine! Say hello to my man, Mink. Mink, this here is my brother Dave. This is his first time out to a joint like this. He’s like a kid at the circus. He ain’t never seen no shit like this. You and the ladies look out for him.

Mink was the blackest man I’d ever seen in my life. This brother was so black people said he had no shadow. Mink was about six feet and a half. He had a mouthful of pearly-white teeth with the first gold tooth I’d ever seen with a diamond chip. I reached out to shake his hand. His huge black hand engulfed mine like shaking hands with a puppy’s paw. He smiled at me and with his thundering voice asked if I wanted to join him and his friends for a drink.

Mink was not only his name, but it was also his trademark. His black cashmere coat was adorned with a black mink collar. His women all had black mink coats. They tell me the inside of his white Cadillac had a black mink cover on the front seat. He and his entourage of four ladies were passing through from Philly where he owned a couple of bars and ran the numbers for the Italian mob. His family still lived in Kinston where he was born.

I was introduced to the four ladies at the table. I couldn’t even decide which one was the best looking. Their colors ranged from cream to black coffee. They were all over me, running their fingers through my curly hair and taking turns sitting on my lap. If heaven or hell was anything like this, I was ready to go.

Will left me alone in the company of two beautiful vixens for a while to take care of some business. After my second drink of shine, I was feeling no pain and was feeling pretty loose. I was having the time of my life. One of the ladies who went by the name Candy was sitting on my lap. Her hips were grinding to the beat of the music coming from the stage. She bent over and seductively whispered in my ear, Baby, you got something hard in your pants pocket? It keeps sticking me in my butt.

Embarrassed and at a loss for what to say, I lowered my eyes and realized I had gotten rock hard from her sensuously grinding her sweet round ass on my lap.

Come on, baby, come dance with Ms. Candy. Let’s see if we can adjust that big thing for you. Candy took me by the hand and led me to the dance floor.

Shyly, I confessed, Ms. Candy, I’m not really good at dancing.

She seductively smiled and placed my hands on her tiny waist. Don’t worry sugar, just hold on to me. We’ll take it nice and slow.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and directed my arms around her small back. When my hands felt her moist, sweaty skin I thought my hard-on would rip through my pants. We slowly moved to the music. She made it very easy to follow her lead. She whispered that I had the makings of a good dancer. Her sweet perfume was driving me crazy.

Ms. Candy knew exactly what she was doing. She grinded on the bulge in my pants until I thought I’d cum on myself right there on the dance floor. Embarrassed, I suddenly backed away and asked her if we could go back to the table.

When we got back to the table, Will was sitting there, talking with Mink in a hushed tone. By the look on both their faces, their conversation was about business.

Hey, baby Bro, I see you’re in good hands. Ms. Candy seems to have taken a likin’ to you. Don’t worry about a thing. Mink told her to show you a good time. Go on and enjoy yourself. The night is still young. Me and Mink are going out to the car to take care of some business.

Will winked at her. Ms. Candy, fix my brother another drink. I’m leavin’ him in your sweet hands. Lil Will leaned over and whispered something in her ear before parting.

Candy motioned to one of the remaining ladies to move to our side of the table and join us for a drink. She was quiet and not as outwardly sexy as Candy but certainly as beautiful. Her chocolate complexion contrasted wonderfully with Candy’s more almond shade.

David, say hello to Misty. Misty is one of our new sisters. We met a while back in Virginia. She’s been a part of our family ever since. She calls me Mommy. Ain’t she a baby doll?

Misty sat on the other side of me. The bottle was passed around to fill our now-empty glasses. We toasted and finished our shots. I was feeling no pain and having the time of my life. Candy told Misty what a good dancer I was. Girl, in three steps he was movin’ like he had been doin’ it all his life, and he’s such a handsome devil too. I bet we could teach him a few other things before the night is out.

Candy reached across me and grabbed Misty’s hand. Girl, look what he carries around in his pocket. Candy guided Misty’s hand under the table and placed it on the rock-hard bulge still throbbing in my pants. Candy whispered in my ear, "Baby boy, are you a stallion like your brother, or are you still just a young colt waiting to be broke in?

The last time we was in town, your brother screwed one of my girls ’til she just plumb passed out."

At a lost for words I didn’t know how to answer.

Before I could utter a word, Misty reached under the table and pulled down my zipper and pulled my throbbing hardness out of my pants. The both of them had their hands on it. All I could do was sit there with my eyes closed, trying to control myself and not explode all over my clothes.

Candy exclaimed; Lordy, Ms. Misty, I believe we done found us a young virgin buck. Why don’t we take him up to the VIP section in the loft and find out? I’m willing to bet that this pretty nigga ain’t never had what we about to give him.

Before I could fix my clothes, Candy and Misty had pulled me up out of my seat to follow them up the stairs leading to the loft. The liquor had me so light in the head that I seemed to float up the rickety wooden staircase. Toward the back, hidden from downstairs, were makeshift rooms divided by curtains. Each little cubicle had a single bed and a nightstand with a dimly lit oil lamp.

A young girl sat nearby with a stack of clean folded towels, sheets, and a fresh basin of clean water. Candy handed her what looked like dollar bills and grabbed a few clean towels. I was led into the small room and pushed down onto the bed.

The two of them took turns removing my clothes while they meticulously stripped each other of their garments. I had never seen women kissing and caressing each other. I’m sure I could have stayed there all night just watching the two of them please themselves. They took turns priming my body for the final onslaught.

Candy directed Misty’s every move. She showed her how to take me in her mouth just to the point before I lost control, then guided Misty’s sweet breasts to my mouth to nurse me like I was her baby while she intently watched our every move.

Candy was beginning to make me nervous in anticipation of what she wanted us to do next. There was no doubt she was in control of this show. Candy pulled Misty from on top of me and embraced her while whispering in her ear. I was totally intoxicated and felt weak as a baby. All I knew was that I was still lying there naked and sweaty with my hardness pointing to the ceiling.

I felt the weight of one of them climb over my body. The sweet smell of her womanhood filled my nostrils as she lowered herself on to my face. Through my haze, I knew this was the beautiful vixen, Ms. Candy.

Taking her by the hand, she beckoned Misty to join her. Misty straddled my hips, waiting for Candy’s instruction to proceed. Candy leaned forward to grab me in her hands while she continued to caress my face with her sweetness.

Candy continued orchestrating and directing. Misty, baby boy is ready now. Sit on this pretty thing and take him for a ride around the track. Break him in easy now. You know how these young bucks are. Just ride him easy for a few laps, and then when you think he’s ready, bring him home to the finish line.

Misty followed her every instruction. I felt like the wild animal she pretended I was as the spasmodic eruptions quaked every fiber of my mind and body.

The three of us lay there drenched in our body fluids. The smells of our bodies mingled and seeped into every pore of my being. I didn’t want to move. I wanted this moment to last forever.

Suddenly, out of the clear blue, I thought of Mama. She used to tell us all the time, Baby, there’s pleasure in sin but always remember the pleasure is only for a season then comes destruction.

Abruptly, Candy whispered, Come on, babe, get dressed.

Candy heard the band suddenly stop playing and a commotion coming from below.

Mink and Lil’ Will should be waitin’ for us downstairs.

At the top of the stairs, I noticed that half the people in the place were gone. My first thought was it was late and time to close down. I heard Candy say it was only around midnight. Something wasn’t right.

I looked for Will. I knew he would not leave without me. I pushed Candy and several people to the side and ran down the steps. Not seeing my brother, I rushed past crowds of people to the parking lot. In a near panic, I started calling out for Will. Cars were clearing the area in a hurry.

There was word going around that someone had gotten shot. I kept asking people what happened. Has anyone seen my brother Lil’ Will?

Out of the darkness, I heard his voice. David! Dave, get the car, man! We got to go! Over here, Dave! Dave I’m over here!

I ran in his direction in a panic. Will, are you okay? Will was standing at Mink’s Cadillac. Ten or a dozen people had surrounded the car as other cars were making a speedy exit out of the area.

Will, what the hell is going on? Mink was standing by his car door, yelling out to Candy to get the girls and come get in the car.

Lil’ Will was frantic. "Dave, you got the keys? We got to go. Go start the fuckin’ car. We got to get out of here now.

What’s up, Will? What the hell has happened?

He just shouted back. Just go start the fuckin’ car, I’ll tell you later.

I ran to the car and started it. When I turned on the headlights, I saw Will and Mink pull someone out of his car and leave them lying on the ground. Will ran and jumped in the passenger seat next to me.

Just take your time and drive out of here very slow. When you get to the main road, put on your headlights and watch your speed limit through town. Once we leave the county limit, we’ll be okay. I’ll tell you what went down when we’re safely away from here. Right now, just stay on this road. I’ve got to meet up with Mink at a place right outside of town for a minute before we go back to Grifton.

My mind and heart were racing a mile a minute. I wondered what happened back there. Who was that they dragged out the car? Did someone get shot? What kind of trouble was Lil Will in now? Frantically I asked him again, Lil Will, what the fuck happened back there, and where the hell are we going?

Will reached under the seat and pulled out a jar of moonshine. Unscrewing the cap, he turned it up and took a long gulp. He offered the jar to me, but I shook my head. Lighting a cigarette, he leaned back in his seat to collect himself.

After a minute of silence, he spoke, Bro, I’m in big shit. Me and Mink had gone out to his car to take care of some business. For the past several months, I’ve been moving some product for him. Mink is a big-time dope dealer. We had set up a deal where once a month he would come down to bring me a package to deal for him. I was doing pretty good. My clientele was growing faster than I could keep up with. Once word got out, I had Cats coming in from everywhere looking for my shit.

"The reason we met tonight was to double up on my supply. He has a connection through the mob up north that had some brown devil straight off the boat from Europe. This dope is the best shit on the whole East Coast. Nigga’s would drive a hundred miles just to get a $10 bag. The money was starting to flow. In six months I could have control over half the state.

He continued explaining what happened. "While we were sitting there in the car, that crazy-white bitch Darla came knockin’ on the fuckin’ window.

Mink asked me who she was. I told him that she’s one of my nigga-lovin’ whores that loved black dick and getting high. He decided to let her in the back seat.

Mink asked her if she ever tried any of his dope. I told him she said she wanted to try some, but I would never give her any.

Mink laughed with his toothy smile. "I tell you what, baby, I’ll get you off for free if you come up here and suck on this big black snake of mine for a while. My friend Lil’ Will tells me you’re the best in the county.’

"Mink told me to exchange seats with Darla so he could introduce her to paradise. I got out and opened her door to let her get up front with Mink. Mink told her to open the glove compartment and hand him the leather pouch, which contained his personal stash of uncut dope.

Darla sat back and watched as Mink took out a set of works to cook up a spoon for me and her to share. He passed a rubber tie back to me. He said he’d do a fix for the both of us. He told me to go first and leave a hit for her. She didn’t need much of this shit if she’s never tried it. Mink handed the syringe back to me.

"The hit was warm entering my vein. It felt so fuckin’ good I wanted to take it all. When I was done, I passed it back to Mink to do Darla. Her veins were small, but he hit home the first time. I saw Darla’s head go back and her eyes roll up in her head. She was on the flight of her life. When Mink pulled the needle out, she suddenly opened her eyes real wide and her mouth opened like she wanted to say something. The next thing I know, she had leaned forward and bumped her head on the front dash.

Mink sat up straight in his seat, adjusting his pants. The next thing I hear is Oh fuck, Will. This crazy bitch, done fuckin’ OD’d on us. Open the window and let her get some air."

I jumped out and ran to open the front door. Darla fell out like a fuckin’ rag doll. I straightened her back up in the seat and started smacking the shit out of her to bring her around. She was gone, man. The fuckin bitch was dead as hell. I closed the door and came around to Mink’s window. I was really freaking the fuck out.

Shit, man, what the fuck we gonna do? This bitch done fuckin died on us.

Mink replied, ‘Don’t panic, man. Go get the girls and your brother and let’s just get the fuck out of here. Nobody knows she was in here with us"

But what are we going to do with her?

Mink responded, Fuck the bitch, Just get her the fuck out of my fuckin’ car. I don’t know nothing, you don’t know nothing, and ain’t nobody saying shit if they know what’s good for them. Now help me get this tramp out my car and go find your brother and tell Candy to get her ass out here now.

There’s a roadside diner open off 17. Meet me there in one hour. You know the one.

When we arrived, Mink’s white Cadillac was parked outside the diner when. The car was empty. He and his girls had gone inside to wait for Lil’ Will.

Lil’ Will spoke to me with intensity in his eyes, David, under your seat is a 38. I don’t think you’ll need it, but if anything happens, don’t wait for me. Just get your ass out of here and go straight home. I’m sorry I got you involved in this shit. I just wanted to show you a good time. Wait here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.

It was one thirty when Lil Will walked into the diner. At two am, I was beginning to worry about him. I reached under the seat and found the 38. I was going to give him another five minutes before going inside to get him.

Just then the door to the diner opened. Mink and the girls came out and got in their car. The white Cadillac pulled out of the drive on to the road. I suddenly started to panic when I didn’t see my brother. Opening my door with the loaded pistol, I looked up and saw Will coming out of the diner. He got in the car and lit up a cigarette. Will told me to start the car and said, Let’s head home.

On the ride home, he shared with me all the details of his meeting with Mink. He seemed pretty calm considering everything that had happened in the past few hours. When we pulled on to our property, he told me to stop down by the lake and turn off the car. He went over all the events of the evening. He assured me that everything was going to be okay. Mink had given him enough money to hold him over for a while. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He grabbed my hand and put some money in it. I didn’t ask any questions. I just clenched it in my fist and waited for him to tell me what was going on.

Listen to me, Dave, when you get out, you go straight home. Don’t ever tell anybody about tonight. You got to promise me you won’t ever tell anyone.

I promised to take it to my grave. He explained that after I got out of the car, he was going to drive the car into the lake. "This car belongs to Darla Aiken. I can’t leave any trace linking me to her. Someone out there saw what went down, and you know how rumors get around in this town. When this gets out to ol’ man Aiken and his boys, you know they goin’ to be gunnin’ for some nigga blood. The whole fuckin Klan will probably be hunting for me.

I’m goin’ away for a while ’til this dies down. Once this gets out, the police are going to be lookin’ for me to ask questions. Lord knows I’ve caused Mama and Daddy enough grief. I’ve got some cash stashed away, and tomorrow morning I’m meeting Mink. I’m going to catch a ride up north with him, and I’ll contact you to let you know where I am once I’m settled.

Will reached over and wrapped his arms around me. You know I love you Bro, and I know you’ll do the right thing and make the family proud. Lord knows they’ve had enough grief with me. Just tell Mama and Daddy I’m okay and that I’ll get in touch with them soon. Maybe one day, when I get it together, you can come up north and we can spend some time together again. In spite of the bullshit, we had a good time tonight, didn’t we?

Okay now, it’s getting late. You need to be getting up to the house before someone gets up.

We hugged once more and with tears welling in my eyes, I told my baby brother I loved him. You take care of yourself, Lil Will. I’ll always keep you in my prayers.

That night was the last I’d see my brother Will for almost three years.

CHAPTER 2

David

The spring of 1939 I got up enough nerve to tell Mama I was moving to New York to find work and start a new life. I always knew farm life was not the life for me. I wanted to venture out and find my own way. It was time for me to seek my destiny.

Mama and Daddy were getting up in age now, and most of the managing of the family farm had been turned over to my sister Connie and her husband, Buddy.

Buddy had started building a new house for his growing family close to the old family house. They now had two children and one on the way before the year was out.

Last year Daddy was hurt in a tractor accident and almost lost a leg. He could no longer work his fields like he had done all his life. He still oversees things but has pretty much left all the business in the hands of Connie and Buddy. He’s taken a real likin’ to Buddy. Buddy’s experience with modern techniques in agriculture has been a blessing to our entire family. Since he and Connie took over, profits have doubled and the farm is being run much more efficiently. Mama’s even got Daddy attending church more regularly.

My older brother Sonny had dropped out of college last year. I always thought he would be the first to leave the nest. He was still talking about joining the merchant marines to see the world. In the meantime, he’s still working on the farm with Daddy and Buddy.

My sister Katherine moved out to California when she finished high school to pursue a career in modeling and maybe even acting. There’s a colored studio out there producing motion pictures and stage plays. She writes often, but we haven’t seen her in a couple of years now. Last month she sent some studio photos of herself. I thought to myself she really does look like Lena Horne in those pictures. Mama framed one and placed it on the mantel over the fireplace for all to see.

Little Rosemarie is in high school. She’s still the little darling of the family. She’s grown to be a smaller version of her sister Kat. She has been studying dance in school and still has dreams of dancing at the famous Cotton Club in New York one day. She’s always been able to get good grades in school, but her biggest problem has always been her sassy mouth. On several occasions Mama or Connie had to go up to school because she had cussed out a teacher or got into an argument over something she did not agree with.

Rosie always had to have the last word; always.

She’s the letter writer in the family. She keeps in touch with Kat in California and even Lil’ Will, who has been living up in Harlem last we heard. Will sends her money from time to time and always tells her in his letters to give Mama some of the money and give her a big kiss for him.

Rosie doesn’t have a boyfriend as far as I know. She says, God hasn’t made a man good enough for me yet. She was probably right. It would really take a special kind of nigga to deal with her shit.

Things had quieted down over the years about the death of the Aiken girl. The police were never able to get enough evidence on Will to press any charges. Among the colored people in town, Lil Will was a legend. Everyone knew he was involved, but if you asked, nobody knew anything.

Last year, Aiken’s youngest daughter ran away with a colored pimp from Georgia. A couple of months later one of his sons was shot and killed in a bar fight. Not long after that, ol’ man Aiken fell dead from a heart attack while plowing his fields. It was two days before they found his body. Animals and birds had eaten his face and half his body. I contacted Will to let him know but warned him that I didn’t think it was safe to come South. The police still wanted to question him about the Aiken girl’s death.

I had been putting away some money and