No Crystal Stair Read online

  The Lord says, “He that worketh deceit shall not dwell within my house.”

  LEWIS

  I’ve been doing all right for myself and shouldn’t complain, but church work isn’t for me.

  These people hope to go to Heaven where they can get something for nothing while everything they want is here on earth. The Negro is always looking for a job and never asks what it pays. All he wants is a job. He’s been indoctrinated from the pulpit that God says be satisfied with whatever state you’re in, but I can’t conceive of the notion that God wants any man to be satisfied with hungry.

  I wonder what Poppa might’ve told me—now that I’m looking beyond the easy buck. I keep thinking about Marcus Garvey and what he says about black people knowing themselves. It’s clear that if the so-called Negro goes to school, he earns a degree for knowing the white man, but not for knowing himself. All he learns about himself is slavery. Slavery is not a history of a man; it’s a misfortune of a race of people. The black man needs to know the dignity of our race. The only way he will get this knowledge is to take it for himself.

  The knowledge is out there in the minds and souls of other black men. It’s in the books I’ve been reading. The Negro needs to know about these books. He needs to read them. He needs to feel and understand the hope, the anger, and the determination that Frederick Douglass felt when he finally understood something he’d been struggling with since his youth—how the white man was able to enslave the black man. It was the day Douglass heard his master tell the mistress of the house that learning would spoil the best Negro in the world. That if you teach a Negro to read, he would be unfit to be a slave.

  Well, Douglass got that message and set about learning to read. Ol’ Frederick had more upstairs than most black men today, and that was before he could read. When he learns, he doesn’t stop there. He teaches other slaves in secret. Says it’s the delight of his soul to be doing something to better the condition of his race.

  I try to talk with Willie about this. She smiles and nods and reads her Bible. Lightfoot meant well, but if it wasn’t for me, Willie would have married that other man she’d set her cap for. Now she’s a bride of the Church.

  Religion can be a good thing. Churches did black folks good after Reconstruction. It was the only place people like Nat Turner and Douglass could hold meetings to unite our people. But the white man wanted to teach black folks about the by and by in the sky. He wanted to take their minds off the things here, so maybe they wouldn’t notice who was kicking them in the head.

  I admit, since joining my brother, I’ve changed some of my views. But you have to be smart about religion. You have to look closely at who’s claiming it and how they’re using it.

  Douglass says it was necessary to keep the masters ignorant of the fact their slaves were trying to learn how to read the word of God. Masters would rather see them “spending the Sabbath in wrestling, boxing, and drinking whisky” than “behaving like intellectual, moral, and accountable beings.”

  Douglass wasn’t against religion, just the misuse of it. He was something, that man—sharp as a razor.

  * * *

  When I first came to Lightfoot’s church, I was reading the Bible mostly. Making good use of the eye I got left. Knowing Scripture is important and useful, but you can eat onions so long that you don’t even believe carrots are good ’cause you’ve just become an onion. I’m seeing that you can’t understand the Bible without considering it in the context of other ideas. People should be balanced in their thinking.

  Damn. Wish I could spend an evening with Poppa talking about it all.

  LIGHTFOOT

  Lewis has come a long way, but I sense he is still controlled by ideas that run counter to the interests of the Church. On several occasions, I have had to mediate his conflicts with Church officials. Lewis has always had trouble with authority, but he needs to learn we must all submit to a divine power or, in the end, lose our very souls to the Evil One. We first begin to learn this ultimate submission by deferring to worthy authorities here on earth.

  But I must tread lightly. I know those trips Lewis has been taking to New York have been about much more than Church business or visiting family in Port Chester. My heart tells me he’s restless and looking for options—a dangerous state of mind for my brother. I don’t want to lose him again.

  LEWIS

  I believe in God, and I love my brother. But I don’t want any religion that will demand I lose my individuality.

  It was one thing for me to butt heads with the deacons, but Mary is Lightfoot’s wife. When she called me to read that Scripture before the congregation, I know she wanted to make an example of me, to show that I must be dutiful. She selected those particular passages intentionally.

  For the grace given unto me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think.

  Unto the pure all things are pure: but unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing pure; but even their mind and conscience is defiled.

  By telling me to read those words of self-condemnation, Mary wanted to humiliate me. When I refused, Lightfoot took her side. Time for me to go.

  Willie isn’t coming. No surprise there.

  Even if I wanted to stay, Lightfoot would never allow it unless I change. Willie, Lightfoot, and Mary—all want to change me. Maybe I could use some changing but to what?

  I’ve been making some contacts in New York City while on Church business there. Harlem seems to be the place where black men are making their voices heard. Building something of their own. And with my sister Margaret in the city and Poppa’s sister, Aunt Sadie, nearby in Port Chester, I wouldn’t be alone.

  I’m feeling my life is there.

  MARY MICHAUX

  Some think we can be Christians and sinners at the same time. They believe they can be Christians falling and rising, in and out, sinning and confessing continually. But we are taught to abide in Christ, and that does not mean in and out.

  LIGHTFOOT

  Mary has made it clear I should wash my hands of my brother. But the Lord must be pushing me toward him as I can’t turn away.

  When Lewis left for New York, I was hopeful that our sister Margaret and Aunt Sadie would provide some stability for him there. I am deeply disappointed to learn he is back to his Godless ways—gambling, and possibly even dealing in drugs and women. It is exasperating because Lewis could do great things if his energies were properly channeled.

  I pray for guidance on the next step to take on behalf of my brother.

  LEWIS

  HARLEM

  I was right to leave Lightfoot’s church, but I can’t deny there was comfort in his world. Even here in Harlem, there’s not much for an upright black man. I’ve tried, but the pickings are slim and there’s always money to be had out on the street. Lightfoot tells me I’m making a deal with the Devil. I guess it don’t matter much. I’m already in hell.

  The other day a fella asked me to make some deliveries for a nice chunk of money. I don’t know the man, but I’ve heard he’s a drug-pushing pimp. I didn’t have to ask, but I did anyway.

  “What’s the merchandise?”

  “You kiddin’ me, man!” was all he said.

  I draw the line at cards and dice. I turned him down, but I was tempted. And it scared me. You can’t work in a fish factory and don’t stink.

  Seems I left the pulpit for the snake pit.

  LIGHTFOOT

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  Although Mary is in disagreement with me, I hope to convince Lewis to join my farm project—the National Memorial to the Progress of the Colored Race in America. The land we purchased—over five hundred acres in Virginia where slaves of the first white settlers worked—has made this possible. Our project will honor the Negro leadership that has blazed the trail up from slavery. Praise the Lord.

  A recruiting office in New York would draw many, and I know Lewis could make it a success if he saw its merits. I may have had unrealistic exp
ectations of him with regard to his commitment to the Church. This project, even though church-related, is better suited to Lewis’s nature. It might give him some of the independence he so craves.

  PROGRAM FOR THE NATIONAL MEMORIAL TO THE

  PROGRESS OF THE COLORED RACE IN AMERICA

  GOLDEN GATE AUDITORIUM

  NEW YORK, NY

  Colored man, your time is up for complaining about what the white man is not doing for you. Fourteen million colored people live in America, the richest country on earth, without an economic program for their future. Their children are being educated, coming out of school by the thousands, year after year, with no jobs to receive them but those of porter, redcap, waiter, cook, chauffeur, or a domestic of some kind.

  Let us do something about it for we have brain and brawn as much as any of the other groups that live in America. Let us organize to overcome our economic condition with a program that is worthy.

  Do you know that Harlem with its 325,000 colored citizens can be turned into a colored state and be owned and controlled by colored people? Do you know that the colored people who live in Harlem are the purchasers of every building in Harlem, the supporters of every business, and the payees of all the taxes that are levied on all the properties in Harlem? Colored man, you have purchased every house in Harlem a dozen times without ever being given a title to one-tenth of 1 percent of the real estate in Harlem. Colored man, you have caused the success of every prosperous business in Harlem. Colored man, you have paid every dime of the licenses for the business and all income tax on profits made in the businesses of Harlem, without sharing one-tenth of 1 percent of the profits therefrom. One hundred percent of these profits should go to you.

  Therefore, I’m here to tell you that the people in any community who pay rent to a landlord and who represent the purchasing power upon which business in that community must exist are the people who should own and control that community as a race of people, especially that majority who are all of any particular race. For instance, in Chinatown, New York, as well as Chinatown, San Francisco, both areas are small, but you will find in them all the necessities that can be procured in any other section of the city, and 100 percent of the persons working in these places are Chinese.

  We know of many cities in which there are Negro districts where the business is conducted almost wholly by members of other races. It is my contention that if other minority groups can carry on business among themselves in this country and turn the monies that they earn into their own investments and employment, certainly the Negroes of Harlem can follow the same policy or else their labor will become chattel to be bought and sold without any standard value.

  The Negro will be allowed just enough to keep a roof over his head and not enough to feed his family unless his wife finds some form of employment to help carry on. And as old age steals upon him, the future becomes darker and darker, and unless he has children to support him, he will be subject to charity.

  There have been many suggestions by our friends as well as our enemies to colonize us on some spot of uninhabited land or to send us back to Africa to work out our problems. This never has interested me in the least, and I am sure it has never interested the rest of colored Americans for we are still here.

  Let me inform you that I am not a new Moses who heard the voice of God say out of the burning bush, “Go lead my colored children out of America to some foreign land, flowing with milk and honey.” But we want to start tonight a campaign under the auspices of the National Memorial to the Progress of the Colored Race in America to build an economic foundation for the support of an intragovernment, which we shall build in America.

  The plan is as follows....

  LEWIS

  Lightfoot is determined. Still trying to make a respectable citizen of his brother. But his new venture does interest me. A self-sufficient black community feels like something Garvey would approve of.

  Lightfoot wants me to recruit families to move to Virginia and work the land. He’s already arranged an office on Seventh Avenue, right in the heart of Harlem. When my brother wants something, he won’t be denied. Lightfoot may have more of Poppa in him than I realized. Maybe he’s found a cause that suits us both. Feels better than this other mess I’ve been mired in.

  LEWIS

  I am not a so-called Negro. I say “so-called” because a Negro is a thing, not a person. The word is an invention. A Negro is a thing to be used, abused, accused, and refused. That’s his role in this stroll. And blacks who continue to accept this ain’t going nowhere. ’Cause it was these so-called Negroes who helped perpetuate slavery.

  Ask me a year ago why the black man can’t succeed and I would have said because of white oppression. Ask me now and I’d have to add because he doesn’t know himself.

  This recruiting business has put me in touch with a lot of black folks, and brother, it’s a crime how few really know their own history. If a man don’t know where he’s come from, he don’t know where he’s going. If you don’t know what you’re worth, you don’t know what to charge for your labor. You gotta know who you are before you can improve your condition.

  The black man is asleep. No, he’s not asleep. He’s awake. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed scratching.

  LIGHTFOOT

  I had high hopes for the Memorial, but finding families to commit to the project is more challenging than I expected. I’m not ready to abandon the venture, but perhaps I should rethink my strategy.

  Even for those who share the vision, that old disabler fear is an obstacle. Risk is something that requires faith, and sadly, the need for this is great.

  LEWIS

  Just as I’m putting down roots, Lightfoot decides to close this office and focus on other towns. Guess I should have seen this coming. Most folks who came to the recruitment office didn’t really get the concept of the Memorial. It was impossible to persuade them to buy in. And the more I think on it, the more I see they were right. We can’t be asking these New York blacks to pick up and move to some field in Virginia. They don’t know farming. These are city folks. They belong right here. And I belong with them.

  * * *

  People are still struggling to recover from the Depression. But the soul of Harlem showed itself before the crash. Fools say, “Those were the good old days, and they’re gone.” Well, what blacks need to be doing now is talking about the good new days ahead.

  I keep coming back to the same thing. Knowledge. Our people need to continue on the climb Douglass started. They need to read. I’m talking about books you don’t find in just any bookstore. Books for black people, books by black people, books about black people here and all around the world. The so-called Negro needs to hear and learn from the voices of black men and women.

  This office would be perfect for a bookstore. My bookstore.

  A Harlem Banker

  I don’t know what these people expect. We cannot lend money to just anybody who comes along with a whim. We need some guarantees.

  Like that Negro, Lewis Michaux. He comes in and asks to borrow five hundred dollars to open a bookstore in Harlem. He says he wants to sell books “by and about black people.”

  Well, I gave him a taste of reality.

  “You can make out an application, but I can tell you where it’s going.”

  “Where?” Michaux asked.

  “Nowhere,” I said.

  He didn’t get it. I told him Negroes don’t read.

  To his credit, Michaux acknowledged this fact. I had reached out my hand to bid him good-bye before I realized he still hadn’t changed his mind. Stubborn. Going on about how he planned to get Negroes to read and spouting things like, “If you know, you can grow,” and other such nonsense.

  Michaux’s dumber than he looks if he thinks one little bookstore is going to change the Negro condition. The man has no experience in the book business. I suspect he hasn’t had much education. A store like that wouldn’t last six months in Harlem. Michaux would lose his shirt and our
five hundred dollars. I must admit, he had a good line—even had me laughing a couple of times, but I still sent him packing for his own good— and the bank’s.

  Now if he wanted to open a place to sell fried chicken or chitterlings, we could do business. Negroes eat up that kind of stuff.

  LIGHTFOOT

  Mary has warned me once again about putting faith in Lewis’s redemption. She believes his soul is lost.

  But his bookstore plan is noble. Lewis seems intent on being a force for positive change in the community. He sees the need for Negro people to be educated, to know their history. In this, there is hope. Lewis has a solid business sense and he’s a good salesman. Poppa would want me to encourage this enterprise.

  My Harlem recruitment office will make a fine store location. Mary insists I give Lewis no financial help, reminding me that our funds are for the Lord’s work. But this could very well be His work. Giving Lewis a push in a positive direction can only help him avoid returning to his life of sin.

  I’ll continue to pay the rent for a few more months, but after that I expect him to take on the responsibility. He needs to do this on his own, but he is my brother and seemingly making an effort. It would be unchristian of me to refuse him.

  LEWIS

  Well, Lightfoot bought me some time to get things going here, no thanks to Mary. He was pleased when I told him I’d honor his farm project and call it the National Memorial African Bookstore. I’m also keeping the paintings of the African heads of state up on the walls. The way I see it, the foundation of this store will be the people who came before.

  I’ve got the place. Now I need the books. Seems most publishers aren’t interested in books about blacks, and the Depression has made them cautious. It won’t be easy, but I’m going to do this or I’m not my father’s son.