APO JOE

By Donald Ray Duff

Circa 1974, the year of mandatory integration, Bo Willims a High School football star at Grimsley High School, Greensboro, N.C., suffered a career-ending injury. He was later falsely accused of drug possession and raping his white girlfriend after their car caught fire in a local park. The judge gave him the option to enter the military or go

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donald Ray Duff
• Release date: Feb 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9781088136522

Book preview

APO JOE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

APO JOE

The Upcoming Bestseller

A Novel

by

Donn Duff

Donn Duff

By the mid 1970s, the Vietnam War was coming to a screeching halt, Watergate was brewing, finally forcing President Nixon to disgracefully resign. The fervent mistrust of the government and Civil Rights prompted unrest and demonstrations calling for a change. The Nation limped toward a more open and freer society were women’s rights and civil rights began to take shape. Greensboro, North Carolina closely mirrored the rest of the country, struggling to erase centuries of racial injustice. Predominately a Textile Mill Town, which had experienced significant economic growth, whereby most of the residents were able to find steady work at its numerous plants, while unemployment rates remained higher among its black citizens.

Deep South states were experiencing whiplash trying to figure how best to adhere to the Supreme court ruling, Brown vs the Board of Education, that struck down school segregation, and ruled that separate but equal education was unconstitutional. Greensboro, despite its efforts at inclusiveness, it was one of the last five schools systems in the state to fully integrate. Despite protest from all sides, bussing was utilized to

A new generation were reaping the benefits Dr. Martin Luther King led Civil Rights Movement. The black power movement was connecting with the youth and black pride was a brand-new mantra. James Brown screaming," Say it Loud, I’m black and I’m Proud blast across the airways. Jet and Ebony magazines highlighted, black accomplishments, natural hairstyles, and Afrocentric clothing. But old habits are hard to break and racial discrimination continued to mare the lives of hardworking black citizens.

Reggie Williams rode the current of change, sporting a large Afro with sideburns, earring, starched jeans and a fresh pair Chuck Taylor's, Converse. Lettering in three sports, at shot at a Division I football scholarship, he was the head rooster on the Yard at all black Dudley High School, one of the top nonwhite schools in the state. He was the top athlete and had formed a bond with his teammates and friends. It was understandable, he was extremely upset, after finding out he would be bussed to Grimsley High school for his senior year. They talked, cried and prayed about it. Tension was bubbling up across the city. For the elite, white flight schools began to pop up like liquor stores. Some of the less fortunate families decided to home school. Members of the school board received death threats and the local Klan marched in protest. As for Reggie and most of the black students, had to endure a long bus ride into hostile territory.

###

Reggie didn’t much sleep the night before his first day at a brand-new school. He kept waking up from strange dreams. As he walked down the hallway to first period, all the white students had black mask on and carried a single candle and they hummed a strange prose. He bent his body in their direction and strained to listen. They were saying, Die Nigger Die! His first thought was to turn around and run but his feet were nailed to the floor. The closer he got the doorway, the louder it became. So loud in fact, blood began to leak from his ears. The covered his ears to keep it off his brand-new school clothes. He covered his ears and sprinted toward the classroom. As he entered the room, the same people were now seated, frozen at the desk. Like synchronized swimmers, they all abruptly turned around. There was a loud boom and a noose dropped from the ceiling. He screamed and ran but was not making any progress. He willed himself to wake-up. His chest was inflamed, pajamas soaking wet, he inhaled deeply but could not catch his breath. He reached into the side table, digging around for his inhaler. Finally he located it. He shoved it into his mouth, sprayed, inhaled deeply until breathing became easier. Steamy sweat engulfed his face and began burning his eyes. Panic mode set in, as he imagined what it was like to die. But he was so young and there was a lot in life he wanted to accomplish. In his mind, he screamed for his mother. She could save him, she was an emergency room nurse. But he didn’t want to alarm her. Soon his chest relaxed and his breathing returned to normal. He collapsed back onto the pillow and stared the ceiling for several moments. A mild depression settled in. He wondered how somebody so fit could have such debilitating illness. This was a secret he needed to keep to himself. He feared it ruin his chances to play Division I football then on to the NFL. His thoughts were interrupted by an aroma of bacon, eggs and coffee. He was jolted by his alarm clock blasting. He felt like he an old horse that was road hard and put away wet. He pushed his body up from the bed, grab his toothbrush and wash rag and cleaned up. He grabbed his backpack and headed to the kitchen.

His mother was standing by the stove, still in her uniform , frantically attending smoking pots and pans. She always made sure their day got started with a hot breakfast. He noticed stiffness in her movements, as if she was trying force herself to maintain her balance. Much like a highly intoxicated person would. When she turned around, her normally bright eyes appeared dull, deep lines carved out a once forever youthful face. Containing a dry cough with a closed fist, she spoke softly. Good morning. See you are all bright-eyed and bushy tailed., how did you sleep?

Not, much rest, guess I’m thinking about the new school a lot. I really wish I didn’t have to attend that school. It’s plain to me, they don’t want us there.

She turned around slowly. Her mouth was down turned, as she attempted to smile. Something didn’t look quite right. Maybe it was the double shifts she had to take on after his dad was laid off for several months.

She whispered, Look BO, I understand your concerns. This whole thing is bigger than you. It’s a step in the right direction in this country. A lot of people have fought and died for this opportunity. So you have to stay strong. Don’t let anybody or anything stand in your way of greatness. Eat up, your bus will be here in about 10 minutes. Don’t forget to get your chores done. When you get home. You how your Dad can be about that."

Yes Maim, You know I will do my best. I want to make you proud.

She smiled. I certain you will. You know their ain’t nothing out here in those streets. I see young black folks every day, hanging out, drinking and catching cases for petty crimes. Once they get you caught in that system, it can ruin the rest of your life. We don’t have the money to get lawyers to get you out of jail. Between me and Daddy’s medical bills, we are barely scraping by. Things are getting better, but there is still long way to go. So you stay focus and keep your head on straight. You are probably going to hear some things that will make you angry. Never mind what they say about you. You God’s child. Remember to keep him first!

Yes Maim, you always know the right things to say. How are you feeling today? Are you losing some weight? Is everything okay? You have been working a lot of overtime. I can get a job at night at the country club with Dad. He was saying.. She cut him off.

Absolutely not. I want you to focus on your school work. Those white folks over there don’t play when it comes to that. We are doing fine and I’m fine.

I promise you Mama I will do my best. One of these days I’m going to buy you a big house. She gave him a big hung and a kiss, as usual, but this it felt somewhat different. It was though she was a bit reluctant to let him go.

Don’t you worry about that son. I just want you to give life your best shot. I want you to grow into fine young man that takes care of his family. That would make me happy son. Don’t let no one tell you can’t be whatever you want to be. You are just as good or better than any of those white children over there at that school. You hold yourself accountable for your own behavior. They will try to get in your head but don’t let them. Hurry up now, so you don’t miss the bus.

Alright Mama. I love you.

I love you more!

###

The awkward social climate cooled after several months at Grimsley. Rumors of an all out race war never came to pass. His football prowess made him a local celebrity. The biggest surprise for him was his struggles with English literature. He found reading ancients text boring and hard to understand. He needed the course to graduate. This was a direct threat to his plans get a scholarship Division I school and potential shot at the NFL. The head football coach took initiative and found him a tutor. He needed to maintain a passing score to stay on the team. During third period, a call over the intercom, telling him to report to the Guidance counselor's office. His heart started to beat out of his chest. He nervously patted his perfectly shaped Afro and locked in a gaze with geometry teacher. She liked the statute of liberty coming alive, motioned him toward the door. In a deep and tangled southern drawl.

She crooned, Mr. Williams, please retrieve your personal items and report to your fourth period. You all will be dismissed from there to attend the Pep Rally. Good luck in the game tonight. Lead us to Victory! His face was engulfed with a Colgate smile. He loved the attention, especially a couple of cute white honeys sitting next to him. The black girls gave them the evil eye. One of them surreptitiously hid a love note in his backpack. He jumped up exited the classroom with a swagger. His stack shoes felt like ice skates on the newly polished floor. He wasn’t quite sure where the guidance counselor was located, so he went by the office. An overly cheerful student office worker, cherub face, with long pigtails, pointed to a partially hidden, L-shaped hallway behind her. He knocked lightly on the door and peeked through the picture window decorated with a collage of student photos and University fliers. He pulled aside one of the larger flyers. A petite white lady with full-blown wrinkles, thin bleach blond hair, diamond studded bifocals, secured to her tiny ears by gold-plated chains, came into view. Multi-colored folders were piled haphazardly on her desk. A white bouffant towered above her head, a prominent black mole danced on her right cheek, as her jaws massaged the last flavor in her Juicy Fruit gum. She looked up with a puzzled look on her face. He lightly tapped on the Plexiglas window again. Her body jerked forward and stood-up, knocking a few of the multi-colored folders on to the floor. Then, she took a quick bite from a bright red apple sitting on her desk. She broke out in toothy smile and waived for him to enter.

Oh, Mr. Williams I presume, please come in and take a seat. So sorry for the mess. But it’s always hectic during this time of year. Parents calling, trying to get their child in the best schools. I am up to my eyeballs typing up recommendation letters. We have a high college acceptance rate here at Grimsley. Since the demographic paradigm shift, the Principal has taken a personal interest in our new students progress. We want our star football player maintain his eligibility. We take our athletics serious as well. I see here from your latest progress report, you are having some struggles with English Literature, which the State requires, before you can graduate. I know that reading the classics can be daunting at times. Old defunct languages written in prose. But they often contain very important lessons for a properly functioning society. A sort of lessons learned if you will. He began to squirm around in the chair. His brain seized up just thinking about the strange and boring stories. But he decided to take it all very serious. His dream of attending college and future pro football career could be on the line. He pulled out a black power fist shaped pick, stuck it in the back of his Afro, leaned forward and whimpered. The words barely escaped his tongue.

Ms. Gant. I promise you. I do all my assignments. But this Chaucer dude is giving me headaches I will do better. I promise. I guess I will have to cut back on my hours working at the country club. I get tired and nearly fall asleep while reading him.

She interrupted, We realize that some students have to work and help their families. Don’t you worry now. We will provide the help you need. This is not your fault. I am all for the colored students succeeding here. One of my best childhood friends colored. In 1958, Josephine Boyd, first Negro to graduate from Greensboro High School, this school’s name back then. She was a beautiful woman inside and out. You have probably never heard of her. She was ahead of her time. She was freedom fighter long before the A&T students’ sit-in at the Woolworth’s lunch counter. Believe me I supported her, but quietly of course. Everybody was a Klucker back then. They would think nothing about slapping me around. It was a Godly thing to do, help the poor and unfortunate. So, I am going to assign you a student tutor. Her name is Analee Howell, one of our brightest students. She got accepted at Yale. Her family is loaded. Old money... Your first session will start Tuesday. At that moment the bell rang. He nervously said, Thank you for your help Ma’m."

We aim to please. See you at the Pep Rally. Go Whirlies!

We got this. Go Whirlies!

Reggie merged into groups of chanting students released from the upstairs classrooms. The rowdy bunch was heading toward the boy’s gym for the pregame Pep Rally. Howling winds impeded their progress. Dark clouds dominated the Western skies, pierced by cloud to ground lightning strikes and rapidly headed their direction. The students funneled through a large archway made of navy blue and white balloons. The loud cheering combined with stomping on bleachers was deafening. He quickly broke away from the herd and joined the coaches and fellow players on stage. Finally all students were seated. There quick and inflamed remarks by the Principal, Coaches and team Captains. The speeches worked the crowd up into a frenzy. The Severe weather blooming outside added an extra dimension. Almost twilight zone like as howling winds spewed hale against the rooftop and shaking the building on its very foundation. This quick moment of terror, temporarily muffled the rowdy students. After the Pep Rally, most of the students remained in the gym waiting for game time, chatting with friends and coupling up. It was losing battle for teacher chaperones, trying to keep raging hormones and unruly behavior under wraps.

The storm delayed the game for an hour. Everybody’s nerves were frazzled by time the game started. It seemed the entire city was at the game. The yearly Game between Grimsley and Page was like a High Super Bowl and generate a significant influx of revenue for the local economy. For the unfortunate ones without tickets, they relegated to tailgating the periphery of the school complex. CBs, transistor radios and walkie-talkies were used in abundance to offer play by play. It was a great time for criminals to raid the city.

The game was as advertized, arguably, a battle of two of the top High school football teams in the State. All being played on smoldering embers of integration, which, at this moment seemed had taken a back seat to a great football rivalry. Reggie Williams was one of the top running backs in the state. As expected he chewed up real estate, 160 yards rushing, scoring two long touchdowns in the first half. Grimsley was up at the half 21-7. The Grimsley crowd was ecstatic. They hadn’t beat Page since 1971. When the 4th quarter arrived the score was knotted 21-21, 40 seconds on the clock. Whirlies, 1st and ten on the 40-yard line. The coach didn’t have a lot of confidence the field goal kicker. So, he decided to catch them off guard and hit Reggie coming out of the backfield. QB, Rex Howard, threw a perfect pass, hitting Reggie in full stride. The crowd was on their feet. All eyes were on him, as he sprinted down the sideline. Looked like he was going to score. Suddenly, his left leg gave out, and he fumbled the ball and a Page defensive back scooped it up and dashed 60 yards into the end zone. He got up slowly and limped back toward the huddle. The coach called a time-out and took him out of the game. The crowd on the Grimsley side became concerned, as the team doctor checked him out. With five seconds left on the clock, Page kicked the extra point, making the score 28-21. On the kickoff, Page kicked the ball deep, as the runner was tackled, time expired, game over. Another win in the record books for Page.

###

Reggie’s injury seemed to zap the energy out of his entire family. To add insult to injury he had failed English Lit and was not able to graduate with his classmates. He was required to go to summer school in order to receive his diploma. Their golden goose was no longer producing golden eggs. There was a lot of yelling behind closed doors. The economic pressures had been heating up. Now his situation had added fuel the fire. After all the big time offers he had at Dudley, now seemed to have vanished into thin air. His parents invested a lot of time and energy in his athletic and academic future, and now he had let them down. It was like the Devil had a different plan for him. His constant prayers had gone unanswered. First, the forced bussing to Dudley, the English Lit problems and now nursing severe injury. He was witnessing how quickly time fortunes could change. One day he was one of the best running backs in the State, and now he felt hopeless and worthless. When he needed them the most, he rarely heard from any of his fickle fans or friends. He no longer had the desire to do anything. He even had thoughts of suicide at times. The walls were starting close in on him. Suddenly, the phone rang , the sound irritated his nerve endings. His heart was played the Bongo drums in his chest. His hands were shaking violently, as he removed the receiver. His mouth bone dry, he cleared his throat and his squeaked out, Hello, this is BO, how can I help you? He immediately recognized the booming and scratchy voice.

BO, this Coach Headily! How have you been son? You sound a little weak. I hope you healing up nicely. Been meaning to give you a call... but its been a bit hectic, Holidays and all. Trying to spend more time with my family..also a couple funerals and such.

Yes sir, thank you for calling and checking on me. I’m coming along fine. Just feeling a little odd from the painkillers at times. But I am dealing with it. Moving around a lot better and such.

Good deal, glad to hear that. Listen, I’m down here in Florida right now at a head coaches conference. It’s put on by NCAA to discuss recruitment and such. Been keeping my ear to the ground for my boys. They gave us this print out, rating all the top prospects in the country. There were two sets, one was the beginning of season and the other a current one, which is preselection. I compared the two, unfortunately, looks you had slipped off the radar of the Division I schools. I’m thinking, you getting injured mid-season was the main cause of that. I had a discussion them and most had high regards for you. But most of them are full of shit. They were saying that your superior stats at Dudley didn’t move the needle, because of an inferior competition level. Being honest, a lot of coaches are not that high on black kids at the skilled positions, indicating problems with discipline and learning offensive schemes. That same old a line of bullshit. Pardon my French, red neck, good old boys network shit. Still believe the South won the Civil War. Here is the truth son you need to understand this, not just football, but a good lesson to take through life. A lot of these schools have a set number African American players they can offer scholarships. Lilly white Alumni see to that. A lot of money is on the line. Even if it hurts their football program. I know that sounds crazy but that is just the way things are. Not just the South but everywhere. Here is my read on the whole dang gum thang. You scored low on your SATs, you had a non contact injury and you failed to graduate on time. The last but not least, your skin color, have hurt your prospects. We still have a chance to get you a second look before selection day but that’s a steep heel to climb. A few players may fail to qualify for a sundry of reasons, making those slots available. But that is a crap shoot. I know that is a lot to take in. But here is the good news. I’m on your side son. You deserve the best that life has offer. Life is not fair but stay positive, work hard and good things will come to your life. Best to you and your family. Hope to see you.

Thanks Coach, for your honesty and everything. Enjoy your trip and make it back safe. This was just another belly blow for him. How much more could he take?

Thanks, gonna try to get in a deep sea fishing trip in while I’m here. I haven’t had a real vacation in 15 years. I’m overdue. Oh, got run, see people moving back into the conference room. Talk to you later.

Ok. Thanks for calling. Coach. He couldn’t hold back his emotions. Tears ran down his puffed out cheeks. He slammed down the phone so hard, the receiver cracked.

His mother and father had warned him this could happen. He could hear his heart pulsating in his chest. He was in the mist of a full-blown panic attack. His breathing became labored. He desperately searched for his inhaler, an apparatus he was ashamed of. An instrument for weak people. He bumped the side table and knocked over the lamp. He felt as if he was dying. His wanted to pull his black skin off because it had caused him so much pain. This was the first time he had ever experienced a full throat rejection. He had always been the top dog. Now, according to coach, he was damaged goods. All of his hard work and success in the past was getting trumped by his skin color and that was a debilitating feeling.

He had lived a pretty sheltered life up to this point. Was he in denial about race and its future implication all aspects of his life. For his generation, Civil Rights and racism was old hat, stuck on the pages of a second hand history book. His mind spliced together of an old black and white newsreel. Martin Luther King’s march on Washington. His I have a Dream speech resonated. One day we will be judged by the content of our character and not the color of our skin. Images of marchers, Billy clubbed by mounted policemen, driving a black, bleeding humanity back across the Edmund Pettus Bridge, Churches burned, children attacked by ferocious dogs, fire hoses slashing their skin, and cross burnings at Klu Klux Klan meetings, Cone heads spewing out venomous words of hate for Jews and blacks. White supremacy was alive and well, not some yellowing Polaroid picture in an old family album. It was se wed deep in the fabric of American life. It was like it inflation, rising and falling at will. Basically unnoticeable until you are about to purchase an essential item. But He was overwhelmed by the gravity of these thoughts. His breathing became more labored, as his lungs craved sufficient oxygen. The room began to spin He put his inhaler in a death grip, inhaled deeply, until he collapsed on the floor. He remained there until his lungs were fully engulfed with air. Once his brain was oxygenated, he began to think more positively. If he was going to have an attack every time something went wrong in life. Ite was no sense of him getting up off the