A Boy Called Pie Face: Hermit of the Woods

By Walter Hill

Young Pie Face was born with a heart of gold in a world so cold. Being the eldest of five, he begins working at age eight, later he becomes a bootlegger. When trouble arises, he is now forced to ride the deadly rails at the age of thirteen. Come ride with young Pie Face as he trudges though America’s great Depression, meeting both friends and foes, setting forth on an epic adventure that will span two continents.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781984523532

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Copyright © 2019 by Walter Hill.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2018905263

ISBN:                  Hardcover                       978-1-9845-2355-6

                            Softcover                         978-1-9845-2354-9

                            eBook                              978-1-9845-2353-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 02/14/2019

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Contents

Chapter 1     1930

Chapter 2     Aunt Shug

Chapter 3     The Booker Boys

Chapter 4     The Bootleggers

Chapter 5     The Emancipation Of Myra

Chapter 6     Riding The Rails

Chapter 7     Black Love

Chapter 8     Kindness From A Stranger

Chapter 9     California Or Bust

Chapter 10   The Honeymoon

Chapter 11   You’re In The Army Now

Chapter 12   D-Day

Chapter 13   The Showdown

The boy threw his fist as hard and as fast as he could, as the old gray-bearded man dressed in old blue jeans and a red-and-black long-sleeve flannel shirt instructed. The old man had taken an interest in him since that day over a year ago when he saw Walter walking home from school with a bloody nose and a busted lip, wearing a big frown on his face. He asked him what happened. A big boy jumped on me, Walter said.

Oh, replied the old man. Do you want to learn how to fight?

Yeah, Walter enthusiastically replied.

Now, after a year Walter had gotten better. The man moved his hands quickly in different positions, shouting, Left, right, as Walter hit the man’s open hands with his small fist with speed and accuracy. The old man heard someone coming as they practiced at the edge of the woods. The old man was like a leopard of the woods; he saw everything, but no one saw him unless he wanted them to. He was Walter’s first father figure, putting him on the road to self-defense.

Chapter 1

1930

Walter Lee Hill was born on May 31, 1920 to Lily Hill, who was known to be a hard worker. She and her five kids lived in a small one-room shack. Lily did not know much about her father. All she knew about was her mother, Mimi Cado, who spoke French and came from Haiti. Landing in the Carolinas, Mimi was very proud and never bowed down to white folks. They referred to her as that crazy Negress.

Walter was four years older than the next child, James. Then there was Louise, his only sister; Grady and Jimmy were the youngest. Walter was the only one with a different father from his siblings. As early as eight years old, Walter became the man of the house and the number-two breadwinner of the family.

Lily made her money by cleaning white folks’ houses and doing laundry. Walter often worked with his mother, tending the yards and gardens while she did the cleaning. He was an excellent worker, even at the early age of eight. He worked as hard and as smart as some grown men did. Young Walter had earned a good reputation for his hard work and honesty, and white people took advantage of him because he was young, so his wages were half of what others made. Of course, he was happy to get the work. Walter usually worked more hours than his mother did.

At the age of ten, he got his first full-time job, working during the summer months for Mr. and Mrs. Maywood. Mr. Maywood was a prominent town official. Walter tended the yard and did the gardening as well as picking the ripe fruit. It was the easiest work he had done, and he found it enjoyable.

Mrs. Maywood almost lost her southern etiquette when she first met Walter. She said, Oh my, look at that! (And she almost used the c word, cute!) Nevertheless, she caught herself and said, Look at that little pie- faced boy. That was how Walter earned the nickname Pie Face. Lily was with him when Mrs. Maywood made the comment and began telling everyone that Walter’s new name was Pie Face.

Mrs. Maywood’s niece Gina was coming to visit for the summer from Chicago. She was thirteen years old and was in full-blown puberty. One day from her kitchen window, Gina noticed Walter working in the yard, and she asked Mrs. Maywood who that colored boy was. Mrs. Maywood said, Oh, that’s Pie Face, Lily’s son. He does good work and is very dependable.

Gina thought to herself that he was cute. She had heard horror stories of racism down south, but she was very naive to the harsh reality of its existence. Coming from Chicago, she was not used to the segregation in the South, although there was racism in Chicago. Nevertheless, she decided that she would meet this boy they called Pie Face.

Charlotte the cook was busy in the kitchen when Gina walked past her and slipped out the back door, continuing down the path that led to the garden. She wore overalls and a white T-shirt, just like Walter. Wanting to break the ice, she teasingly said to Walter, Why you are dressing like me, little boy? Walter briefly glanced up to look at her, without missing a beat of his garden work.

With a smile on his face, he replied, "Excuse me, little girl, but I think You’re dressing like me."

Gina paused for a second and then said, I don’t think so. Your overalls are too short and dreadfully tight.

Walter stood up and looked down at his pants, which were too tight and about six inches above his ankles. Without success, he started tugging at his overalls, trying to make them appear longer.

Gina held her hand to her mouth to stop from laughing. Walter began looking her up and down, noticing that her overalls were made of denim like his, except hers were brand new, clean, and the cuffs were at her ankles.

Looking her straight in the eye, he started to say something he knew he should not say; he caught himself as he saw his mother’s face appear in his mind. Well, these are my working clothes. You should see my Sunday clothes, he said.

Oh, replied Gina, realizing she should ease up on him.

She knew colored people in the South were very poor. Feeling apologetic for her comment and that she may have insulted him, she hastily shifted the direction of the conversation. I bet you look very sharp in your Sunday clothes, she said.

Walter started prancing around and proudly replied, Get sharp as a tack, and when I put on my hat with the blue feather, look out!

Walter began telling stories and strutting like a peacock, letting her know how cool he really could be. Gina liked the boy they called Pie Face and wanted to believe all his stories, so she instantly gave him the benefit of the doubt. The fact of the matter was that she did not care either way. She was attracted to him and wanted to know more about this boy.

Both laughed and began chitchatting when Gina began asking Walter about the cold harsh reality of the dirty South, as well as if the stories she heard about racism were true.

Walter began telling her how the Klan had hanged his uncle. Lily was devastated. Walter reminded Lily of her little brother, who had been only sixteen when he died. Walter never knew him.

Lily therefore raised Walter with the fear of even looking in a white girl’s direction. But this was the way of the South, going back to slavery. It was a time when white masters made it clear to Negro mothers: If you want that boy to live, you had better train him right. This was basically meant to fill them with fear and make them want to do whatever they could to make certain their boys never became men. So, keeping the boys as boys became a mother’s job, not meaning to hurt them but to protect them. But of course, some mothers were exceptional. Lily and Mimi Cado were such mothers, so Lily did teach Walter and his brothers to stay away from white girls. If they talk to you, avoid eye contact at all cost and most definitely no reckless eyeballing.

So, hanging out with this little girl was new to Walter, and it felt comfortably trouble-free. Without realizing the time, they had been talking for nearly an hour.

Mrs. Maywood was looking out of the window and saw the two of them talking and laughing, and suddenly she had a moment of clarity. She did not see their color or differences; it was just two kids playing around with children’s innocence. She could see Walter clowning around; truly, it was so natural and innocent. Reality interrupted her thoughts as well as the certainty that if her husband saw them together, it would be unpleasant. At the least, I would lose a good worker, but it could mean serious consequences for little Pie Face, she thought.

Trying to avoid any unnecessary problems, Mrs. Maywood stormed out to the yard where the two were talking. Gina, she firmly said, get over here this instant. Grabbing her by the ear, she took Gina into the house. She would talk to Gina later, but first Pie Face must be put in his place and made to understand the severity of the situation for his own good. Then, with the same energy, she stormed back outside to confront him.

Not knowing what to expect, Walter became filled with anxiety. Mrs. Maywood had always been kind to him, but of course there were rules that had to be followed. He understood not all—but most—whites were very cruel to coloreds. Walter had witnessed the cruelty displayed by some whites, and he had heard his mother preaching about it regularly. Stay in your place, boy, Lily regularly and forcefully instilled in Walter. However, no white girl had ever interacted with him as Gina did, and he was feeling confused.

Walter! she shouted. Now you know better! You know what happens to colored boys around here communicating with white girls, Mrs. Maywood said.

Walter interjected, We were just talking. I meant no harm.

Quickly she snapped, It does not matter. Luckily, Mr. Maywood did not see you two talking. Walter, if she ever approaches you again, you just ignore her, you hear me, boy?

Yes, Mrs. Maywood, Walter replied, looking down into the dirt. He was now overcome with guilt and fear. Mrs. Maywood continued to rant and rave, but he was somewhere else in his dream world.

Walter had no idea where it was, but when things became unpleasant, he could always escape there in his mind. It was a place where he was never persecuted for being a Negro. He was transported to a safe place with no hatred, where people of all colors got along in peace and harmony.

Mrs. Maywood interrupted his thoughts. Boy, is you listening to me?

Yes, of course, replied Walter. Although he was in his dream world, he was always conscious of reality.

Walter said, Mrs. Maywood, I am sorry. I meant no disrespect. He raised his head up slowly, making eye contact.

Lowering her tone in a more sympathetic manner and keeping steady eye contact, she said, I know you are aware of how things are around here and that your mama taught you how to conduct yourself around white people. Maybe I should have a talk with Lily.

When Walter got home that night, he told his mother what had happened. Lily started having a fit, throwing things and screaming at him, warning him of the dangers he could be bringing upon himself. She pleaded with her son to be more cautious and to behave as she had taught him.

Finally, she calmed down and asked Walter to go fetch some water for dinner; she went into the garden to pick some collards. While she was in the garden, she went into a daydream, flashing back to when she was younger and her little brother Jimmy had been lynched.

Jimmy was the fearless type, good-looking as well as bold. Her mother, Mimi Cado, had not taught Jimmy much fear at all, not even of the white girls. Some of the white girls in town would wink at him, and he would wink back. Eventually they would begin to flirt with each other from a safe distance until they were able to communicate in secrecy, making plans to meet in the woods.

Jimmy was sixteen when they caught him with a little white girl. He was found badly beaten with his penis cut off, burns all over his body, and signs of the horrifying torture he must have endured.

Usually when colored boys were lynched, they came up missing and were never found; people found blood in the area of the hanging tree, but never a body. But they left Jimmy as an example to instill fear.

Lily’s mother, Mimi, wanted to chop down the hanging tree and all the evil it represented, but the tree was too old and thick. Lily was so devastated that it destroyed her in so many ways and left her brokenhearted. She snapped out of her trance after Walter called Mama three times before she finally reacted. Here I come, son! she answered. Please put water in the big pot for the greens and some in the small pot for rice.

Grady, Jimmy, James, and Louise were visiting with their aunt Annie, where they attended the Negro school. Walter and his mother were the only ones having dinner together that evening. Walter only went to school for three years before he had to quit and start working. The family sorely needed the income that Walter would generate. Lily thought it would be better for the other children to remain in school and get an education. She was hopeful that one day Walter would go back to school. Lily wanted more for her children and knew that education was a powerful tool.

Dinner was ready, so she and Walter set the dinner table that was made for four, but they made it fit six. The home had partitions that were made with sheets. It was forty by forty feet with one large oval-shaped rug in the middle of the floor. A white woman she worked for had given it to her instead of wages. Sometimes she was paid with money, and other times she worked for items and furniture she could use at home instead.

The two ate quietly, Walter with his hands together between his legs between bites of food and Lily with her elbows on the table, hands together, fingers intertwined. Walter, she said, I know I have told you repeatedly about how things are. Nevertheless, you must pay attention to my warnings. There are very wicked white men out there who will not hesitate to kill you for no reason, even when it comes to little boys like you. I have told you about my little brother, Jimmy. Then she shared her story about Jimmy again. Walter was quiet while his mind wandered, trying hard to make sense of everything he was hearing. Although he’d heard it before, this time it was the most frightening.

Lily now had tears in her eyes.

Okay, Mama. I will not talk to her again.

Lily smiled and walked out into the garden. She gazed out onto the twilight woodland and thought back to the man she loved who had fathered her eldest son, Walter. They had called this man she loved June Bug. His parents had tasted slavery as babies.

June Bug was born in 1892 and never knew Walter except as a baby. June Bug was a boxer, and he admired Jack Johnson, who was singlehandedly the biggest psychological threat to white supremacy on earth. Call him what you will—a black man, a Negro, a colored man—but that one man gave white, racist male America (mainly in the South) nightmares. What they had feared all those decades and even centuries had come to light: a black man was heavyweight champion of the world, and he was beating up on white men legally, and many white women flocked to him. In many southerners’ eyes, this was blasphemy.

But June Bug, like any other colored man with a speck of alpha blood, was rooting for him adamantly. Others knew better than to do this in front of white people, but June Bug was fearless or maybe foolish. He was a young man of eighteen when Jack Johnson won the crown, and it was then that he began to box. In Mississippi, he could only fight Negroes, which disappointed him. June Bug did not have the talent to become a great boxer, so after suffering a series of knockouts, he quit and was able to get a job as a logger, because he had earned a bit of respect from boxing, even among white people. But that respect was always fragile and very limited.

One night while listening to the fight at the logger camp and when everybody was drinking, June Bug forgot his place. He was rooting for Jack too openly and showing too much emotion. So, a handful of the good ol’ boys decided to teach him a lesson. They weren’t going to kill him but just wanted to put the fear of white supremacy back into him. They separated him from the other Negroes, got him good and drunk; they only wanted to spook him by pretending they were going to cut off his nuts and hang him. But June Bug was in a belligerent mood and just did not feel like backing down. Jack Johnson had inspired him to the point where he just couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t play the old game of Master, please, I am so sorry. I’ll never do that again, begging for his life. He could have gone along with the game, but instead he said, Yeah, the big black nigger is beating every white boy they throw in front of him, and those white women love his shiny black ass.

Now it was real. June Bug was really drunk, and perhaps he had taken too many blows to the head. Along with the alcohol, this made him out of his mind. He acted like he didn’t feel the beating, but after he was beaten and knocked to the ground, he just kept standing back up. Then they put the rope to his neck and dragged him to a tree. Even while being hanged, he continued to force a smile across his face in the tradition of Jack Johnson, who through all the racial slurs and threats, still wore a big, happy smile on his face.

Lily never knew what happened to June Bug. People tried to console her by saying things like That boy probably just ran off because he couldn’t take the pressure of having a family. But even they knew what likely happened, which is what happened to many young colored boys, sometimes even girls in the South: they just went missing. But Lily always had that faraway look, as if she was looking for something or someone to appear.

Lily walked back into the house and smiled at Walter, happy that June Bug had given him to her.

The next day, Walter was back in the Maywood’s’ garden, working. They owned a whopping twenty-acre spread with a nice garden near the house where he worked. Further out in the