The Obit Writer

By Ryan Provencher

Alwin Kershaw was always either fighting for people’s rights or telling their stories. While in college in the 1950s, he fought for the admittance of Blacks to Ole Miss and went on to tell their stories at Newsweek and the New York Times, eventually becoming the lead feature obituary writer at the Times. He may have told and shared others’ stories, but he was rarely true to his own. This is the story of a man’s lifelong journey through war zones, riots, and love to find the self-acceptance he so desperately needs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781669869900

Ryan Provencher

Ryan grew up in Hudson, New Hampshire, where he spent the majority of his formative years. He then went on to study film at the University of Miami. Now living in Los Angeles with his husband Scott and their two dogs (Bert and Ernie), Ryan works in the motion picture business. He has also spent the last seventeen years volunteering at the LGBT Center, where he mentors people through the coming out process. He also volunteers at the Trevor Project and Gay For Good. The Obit Writer is his second novel. Thine Own Self: A Coming Out Novel is his debut book. www.ryanprovencher.com

Book preview

Chapter Two

The Story Revealed

Jesus Christ! Fine, we’ll publish the damn article! Will this finally stop him from sending them to my desk? screamed Finn Johnson, the lead editor of the Mississippian.

Just know I’m not going to be the one to take the fall if this thing goes south. This is on Alwin’s head and his alone. Understood? he cried out to no one in particular.

This was the tenth op-ed piece Alwin had submitted on the Negro issue, and Finn was through. The truth was the article was genuinely good. In fact, it was brilliant. All his articles were. Finn, however, was concerned that there may be some serious consequences to it. To say it was scathing was putting it mildly. Alwin’s claim that any student with equal grade level should be given the same consideration for admission to Ole Miss regardless of the color of his skin was just not something the majority of people on this campus, or in this state for that matter, wanted. Finn had shown his anger for the articles so as not to show any siding with Alwin, even though deep down he felt the same way.

Johnny, when does Alwin usually grace us with his presence? asked Finn with true anxiety in his voice.

He usually gets here around 4:00-ish, Skip, Johnny replied with a smirk on his pimply face.

And stop calling me Skip, goddammit. Send him over when he gets here. There’s going to be a lot to talk about.

Forty minutes later, and with so much hand-wringing that Finn’s hands were turning beet red due to his nervousness about the article, Alwin walked in the door carrying a briefcase in one hand and a sheet of handwritten notes in the other.

Kershaw, get the hell over here. We’ve got a lot to discuss, screamed Finn.

Alwin began to sweat, and this time it was not from the heat. Was today going to be any different from the rest, filled with rejection, he thought.

Alwin, I have had it up to here with reading your damn integration articles about the coloreds, and now it’s going to stop, Finn said in what he hoped was a furious manner. Better to keep Alwin on his toes until the very last minute.

But, Skip— Alwin interjected.

What the hell is it with people calling me Skip? I’m the goddamn lead editor of the paper and I need to start being taken seriously, so enough of the Skip shit. Now, as I was saying—and don’t interrupt me—I’ve had it with your articles about the Negro issue, so in a few days we’re going to include your latest article regarding integration. And you can thank Gene Harrison as well. I didn’t appreciate it, but he said I would be an idiot not to print your story.

Alwin bolted from his chair and couldn’t contain the grin on his face. It was happening. It was really happening. This was the article that would start the debate and get people to begin seeing the facts.

Sit down, Kershaw, I’m not finished. There will be a disclaimer made to your article. It will state that neither the institution nor this paper agrees or disagrees with this stance, and this is solely the viewpoint of the writer. The school will need to distance itself if needs be.

The smile that had been so strong on Alwin’s face began to quickly fade into utter disappointment.

This university, or at the very least this paper, could truly have stood on the side of change, but once again everyone with the exception of me is going to slink off and hide in the corner and refuse to take a stand on the complete and utter racism in this country, and closer to home, in this school. This is a sad day for journalism, Alwin screamed, throwing his hands in the air.

Excuse my French, but give me a fucking break, Alwin. You’re lucky this thing is getting published in the first place. Do you know how many people had to read the article before I was able to get it approved? A whole hell of a lot. Nobody, and I mean nobody, initially wanted to let us publish it. So do me a favor and get off that high horse of yours and be happy the article is going to even see the light of day. All right?

Taking a few deep breaths, Alwin’s nerves calmed. I get it, Finn. I get it. I appreciate you going to bat for me. It really does mean a lot.

Now the important thing is you need to keep your eyes and ears open. There’s no telling what may erupt when this article is published. You’re going to tick off a whole lot of people and you need to be prepared for that. Now we go to press in a few days. Might not be a bad idea to leave town for the weekend and miss class on Friday.

I appreciate the warning, but I can handle it, Finn, Alwin said, getting out of the chair and flexing his biceps.

Just be smart, Alwin. You’re a loon, but you’re also the best writer in this damn publication, so I have no interest in losing you. Now get the hell out of here. I have a newspaper I need to work on, sighed Finn.

The sun was scorching as Alwin raced out of the office. The pure joy on his face could be seen from a mile away. He had some time, so he crossed the street and headed into Daisy’s Diner for a soda pop.

After his meetings with Finn, Alwin always liked to settle at the counter with a soda and prepare for the next article he thought would be turned down. Today was a different story and he was going to make the most of it.

The quaint little Southern diner was packed to the gills with customers trying to get out of the sun and socialize with friends and colleagues. Many would take a twenty or thirty-minute break from work just to stop into Daisy’s to say hi to the staff and get a cold one. Per the usual, Daisy was presiding over court, taking orders, seating people, and being an overall lovely Southern belle. She always dressed so prim and proper for work. Today she was wearing a lovely blue and white dress that reminded Alwin of Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. At age sixty-three, Daisy deserved the chance to retire and sit on the porch and watch the world go by, but that didn’t interest her in the slightest. If she wasn’t doing something, then she believed she might as well be dead, so she never stopped.

As Alwin walked through the door the little bell rang, and Daisy turned quickly to see Alwin and smiled.

You know the drill, darlin’. Have a seat at the counter, and I’ll get you a Coke in just a bit, sugar, she yelled from across the room as Perry Como crooned Hello, Young Lovers in the background.

No problem at all, my lady love, Alwin said, smiling and blowing her a kiss.

Finding a free seat near the end of the counter, Alwin began to sift through his notes from the day. His next article would concern the Korean conflict and where the US was headed. Was it coming to an end or would it ever? Skimming through his notes, he heard the bell ring, and Gene stepped onto the tiled floor. Alwin looked up and smiled, seeing the gorgeous man at the other end of the diner. He gave a slight nod, but nothing that could be recognized by anyone else. Gene grabbed a seat at the other end of the counter and picked up a menu, pretending to peruse it.

Well, hello, my love. How have you been these last couple of days? Is the humidity killin’ that gorgeous tan face of yours? Daisy asked as she placed a cola in front of Alwin and snapped off the cap.

Honey, seeing you makes me feel as if there’s no one else in this crazy damn world. Just you, me, and our love, Alwin answered in a seductive Cary Grant-like voice. He loved Daisy almost as much as he loved his own mother.

You, young man, are going to be the death of me, talkin’ like that. Now tell me how are your studies going? And are they treating you any better at that paper of yours?

Often, when Daisy was closing up shop, Alwin would come over and help her clean up the place and make sure everything was locked. In those moments he had the chance to share his experiences in school, at the paper, and almost everything. He would always listen to her and get her to open up, but rarely did he ever tell her his deeper stories, only the ones close to the surface of his life. Even with Daisy, whom he loved dearly, he still needed to keep a distance as to who he really was, who he really was attracted to—and that fact very often made him depressed.

You know how it is, Daisy. They like one. They hate one. But today it was the former. Not sure what will come of the article, but it’s the best one I’ve ever written, and I’m over the moon that they’re publishing it.

That’s fantastic, Alwin, Daisy said as she reached over the counter and gave Alwin a quick kiss on the forehead. Now, I’ve got other customers that need attendin’ to, but you just sit there and enjoy your pop for as long as you need.

Alwin smiled. Places like Daisy’s made him happy, and he certainly hoped they would never go away. Checking his peripheral version, he could see Gene trying his best to make eye contact. Alwin couldn’t take it anymore. Ripping out a sheet of paper from his pad and grabbing a pencil, he quickly wrote a note on the sheet before taking one last gulp of the soda and tossing a dime on the counter. Folding the note carefully, Alwin casually glanced over to the other side of the counter. Having now done this more than a dozen times, Alwin and Gene had it down to a science. Getting out of his chair, Alwin placed the note in his right hand. As he passed Gene, he discreetly passed him the note. As always it was a flawless exchange, and Alwin left the diner waving to Daisy as he let the door close behind him.

Although the reasons for it were depressing, Gene did find the cloak-and-dagger aspect of their relationship stimulating. It almost felt like a mystery novel. Carefully placing the note on his lap, Gene read:

JOHN W. KYLE PARK - 10:00 PM - SAME PLACE

That was it. That was all Alwin could write. He was no Oscar Wilde, but at least he got the message across. Gene quickly but discreetly tore the paper into tiny pieces. There was no way he was going to allow anyone to find evidence of anything. They had worked far too hard for all this time to be caught by a simple note.

~ ~

It was 9:45 p.m. and Alwin was already starting to get nervous. He hated that this was the way they needed to meet, but he was most certainly keenly aware of the situation and did not want to risk the reputation or the lives of either of them. For now, simply put, this was the way it would have to be. There was a comfort in having it this way as well. There was always a distance in his life with everyone. By having it this way, it was almost an alternate reality that Alwin could escape to from his daily life. Two separate worlds that would never collide.

As the minutes ticked away, Alwin began to forget the worry and began to feel the thrill of the moment. He heard a rumble in the bushes, and although it seemed clichéd, it was followed by three bird whistles, letting Alwin know it was safe to enter the wooded area.

And there was Gene, dressed in a light blue button-down shirt and khaki pants, the conservative look. They both played the part of the heterosexual male when they entered the park. It was only deep inside the recesses of the park that everything changed.

They embraced immediately, holding each other for only a few moments. God, you look amazing, whispered Gene as he tightly held Alwin in his arms.

Believe me, I could say the same about you. It seems pretty deserted tonight. I take it you didn’t see any police driving around on the way here? Alwin asked with deep concern in his voice.

No. It’s a quiet night. Most people are probably inside since it’s still in the eighties and so damn humid that I’ve already sweated through this shirt.

Alwin gave this perfect specimen of a man a smirk and replied, You know there’s an easy remedy to that, Gene. He grabbed Gene’s hand and they headed farther into the woods where the moon and the stars were the only sources of light.

Safe? Alwin asked.

Safe, confirmed Gene. These words had to be spoken every time they met here. Both men had to feel safe before they even began to initiate their love for one another.

Once these words were spoken, their night of passion could begin. Now little to no words were spoken. They didn’t need to be. There was no need for seduction as this was the only true outlet they had for one another. They quickly began removing each other’s clothes, shirts, shoes, socks, pants, and then undergarments fell away before they placed a blanket on the ground. At peace that this was the only location they could express their sexual yearning for one another, they went at one another with pent-up passion, excitement, and lust. The uncomfortableness of the location, the weather—everything was forgotten. Both men knew the crime they were committing and knew the consequences of their actions, but it mattered little when a slight warm breeze would almost play with their arousal. Each time it was the lust for one another that indicated the rules for the evening.

In those passionate embraces where climax was all but inevitable in mere moments, the need for a cry to the heavens seemed so vital, so necessary, but Alwin and Gene knew that literally could mean a death sentence, so they controlled their ecstasy to slight moans, which both found to be utterly disappointing.

So the paper’s going to print my piece on the Negroes coming to the university, Alwin whispered in a gentle quiet tone while taking a drag off a Carlton cigarette.

That’s great, Al. I was afraid to do it, but this time I really pressed Finn on the issue. In the end, though, it was your article that did it. I mean, it really is amazing, but aren’t you just a little afraid of what might happen? Gene asked, grabbing the cigarette from Alwin’s fingers and inhaling a long drag.

First, I can’t thank you enough for talking to Finn. It means so much to me, Gene. You have to know that change only can come if we take the time to fight for it. Nobody seems to be listening to these people so someone has to do it for them. Frankly, I need to be the one to speak for them, Alwin replied a little louder than he probably should have.

All right, Alwin. I know this means a great deal to you. I just wish I could be there to support you as your partner in life and more than just a fuck in the woods. I need you more than that, Gene replied.

I want that too, but you know they treat us degenerate homophiles just as badly as the Negroes, and believe me, we’ll never get anywhere if people find out. This is just how it’ll have to be.

I know. I know. We’ve said this a thousand times. I just wish we could spend more time with one another. I feel like we never really have a chance to connect. There is always a part of you that’s closed. And then let’s face it, you’re going to be heading off to be a journalist at some fancy paper. What the hell am I supposed to do when you’re gone? Gene questioned, moving toward Alwin’s back and rubbing his shoulders. Alwin turned his head to the ground.

I’m sorry I’m not always where you need me to be. The fact is I’ve always been this way since I can remember. Maybe it’s because I’ve always known I was different than most people. Do me a favor, okay? Whatever you do, what I need from you is to promise you won’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to come back here and find you in jail. All right?

Yeah, yeah, I promise. We can’t stay here too much longer, but you think you can go another round? Gene asked, poking his already firm member at Alwin.

As I say to Daisy, ‘I’m always in the mood for seconds,’ Alwin replied, grabbing the back of Gene’s neck and kissing him passionately. They made love again and then quickly dressed, hearing the sound of footsteps in the distance. Whose footsteps they were didn’t matter. It was always the police to Alwin and Gene.

Chapter Three

Truth and Consequences

It was Friday and the article calling for the integration of the Negroes had been published, and as expected the reaction on campus was swift, strong, and more than anything filled with anger. Alwin was prepared for the onslaught of criticism but had no idea he was as known on campus as he was. There weren’t many photos of him to be found in the past editions of the paper, so he’d hoped the reaction would be to the writer and not his physical self. That turned out to be false.

One of the staff writers, Joe Bowers, was a bigot and hated to be anywhere near Negroes. He would certainly never condone drinking from the same fountain, eating at the same table, or even standing remotely close to a Negro. He had grown up in the South and his family line came from great Southern stock. He would always gladly offer his pedigree to anyone who would listen. The hatred he felt for so many had been passed down for generations. He would never change and would do anything to make sure the South stayed true to its heritage. His family had political connections, and they had forced the administration to allow him a position on the paper. That’s how Joe Bowers had finagled his way into getting an early copy of Alwin’s article. He gathered a group of his friends in one of the common rooms near his dorm. The editorial lay spread out on the table they surrounded. Joe’s anger was contagious, and the group quickly began to shout out ideas of what needed to be done against this blasphemy.

I’m going to find him when he comes out of class, and I’m going to hang him from his goddamn neck until it snaps, Joe yelled in a deep, guttural voice while pounding his fist on the table.

There were nods from most of the members, although a few were attempting to be more rational.

Joe’s girlfriend, Debbie, a Southerner through and through, listened throughout the yelling but stayed off to the side. She was always the rational one of the group, although her hatred for Negroes still ran deep.

Joe, I get it, but you can’t go killing people, no matter how angry you are. You’ll end up spending the rest of your life in jail, and what good would that do to save the university? she asked, putting her hands on his shoulders and leading him to a chair. Maybe if a group of us can get him to recant then perhaps we can still win the day, she said in a soothing but firm tone.

Joe nodded and allowed his breathing to slow as he tried to calm his nerves.

Fine. One of my friends was able to get me his schedule. He should be getting out of class in the next ten minutes. I’ll stay here and begin writing the rebuttal to his article. If I get detained over there with you, I’ll never get the chance to respond. You guys go and give him a friendly hello, snarled Joe as he headed back to his room.

~ ~

Luckily for Alwin, he had friends who looked out for him as well, and he quickly learned that Joe knew his class schedule. He hoped he could sneak away and not be seen.

After a journalism class that was truly intense as the debate of conflicting views in editorials continued, Alwin sat in the back row, in the corner, and kept his mouth shut the whole time. He waited for the entire class to exit before he left from one of the side doors that few students used. But Alwin was mistaken to think this would be a feasible escape plan. The moment he stepped out of the building, there were five screaming students surrounding him.

So you’re the nigger lover that wrote today’s article, aren’t you? screamed one of the guys in the crowd. He was tall with broad shoulders and clearly looked like he belonged on the football team.

Although Alwin certainly had a quick and ready retort, he decided it was best to curtail those comments. He doubted they would do any good in this situation. In fact, there was a strong chance they would only escalate the rising passions of the group.

Listen, friend, my job is to give alternative viewpoints. I understand you feel differently about integration, but there’s no need to scream about it. Debating the issue is the best way for everyone to get informed, Alwin said, trying to reason with the increasing mob.

Looking out of the corner of his left eye, Alwin could see more students coming his way. In a few moments, they would be upon him, and he was afraid this literally might turn into a lynch mob and he’d be in the hospital or the morgue before he knew it.

You’re not leaving, and I’m going to beat you to a pulp until you tell me you’re going to recant your article, the fraternity-type bigot screamed with his face turning red, a vein on his forehead pulsing as he almost spit in Alwin’s face.

Then I guess you’ll be making orange juice with that pulp because there is no way I’ll ever do that, Alwin said, moving right into the face of his would-be assailant. If he was going to fight this guy, he was going to at least stand his ground.

The time Alwin had bought in yelling with the brute was just enough for the new arrivals to reach their destination. Once he could make them out, he realized there were now friends and colleagues in the crowd, and he had a feeling they were the ones who would live up to the phrase fight the good fight.

All right, I think we’ve had enough arguing here. Let’s break this thing up before campus security gets here and we’re all thrown out of school, Finn shouted. He had had a feeling that Alwin wasn’t going to listen to him, and this was the moment where he could be the most help.

So all of you are nigger lovers as well? one of the angry students yelled from the crowd.

Sandy, one of Alwin’s good friends who had always stood by him in defense of any of his articles, spoke up, saying, I hear all Negroes are great at football. Watch out, boys. If they get in, you might all be sitting on the bench!

Interestingly, this moment of amusement did not escalate the matter, and a few people on both sides began laughing. The mob, as it was, started to dissipate. It was over, all but for the one who initiated the confrontation.

You had better hope I don’t find you alone some night because my bite is just as bad as my bark, he said seething. And with his back to the crowd, he grabbed Alwin’s right hand and snapped Alwin’s pinky finger back to his palm, breaking it. Remember that. And by the way, Joe says hello.

Finn, the only one to see the incident, made a move toward the student, but Alwin put his other hand up to Finn’s chest, saying, The man who walks away may fight again. Let’s go.

As Alwin, Finn and the rest of their group began to disperse, the others continued screaming racial slurs until they couldn’t be heard any longer.

"You know, Alwin, most people use the new quote to fight another day and not Demosthenes, but I suppose that’s the reason why I brought you on the Mississippian, you crazy kook. Now, why don’t we sit on the bench and see how bad that finger is," Finn said, taking Alwin’s hand gingerly.

Always best to leave them thinking. That’s what I always say, Alwin replied, trying to muster a smile but cringing as he moved his hand for Finn to examine his distorted finger.

Well, you’ve certainly accomplished that, Alwin. Yikes, he really did a number on your finger. We should bring you over to the infirmary so they can reset it, Sandy said, having a hard time looking at the deformity.

As they began walking, Alwin’s crowd formed around him to be sure there would be no further attack—at least for now.

You always seem to take on the controversial issues, Alwin. Why put yourself out there to be criticized, and in this case, attacked? asked Thomas, a friend of Alwin’s since freshman year.

Everyone seems to think there’s some deep meaning to it, but there have to be people who stand up for others. Don’t you see that? Otherwise, everything would fall into chaos. I can’t seem to understand why everyone’s so angry with having Negroes admitted to the university. They have as much a right to be here as we do, Alwin passionately declared.

They continued to walk to the medical center as they debated.

Change takes time, Alwin. I personally believe we need to stand up for the rights of Negroes to come to Ole Miss, but the fact is hatred has been ingrained in people’s minds for so long now that they don’t know how to see anything different, Sandy replied, patting Alwin on the shoulder.

The