PIC by Jack Kerouac

               CONTENTS


	1.  Me and Grandpa
	2.  What Happened
	3.  Aunt Gastonia's House
	4.  Brother Come To Fetch Me
	5.  Some Argufyin
	6.  I Go Thu the Window
	7.  We Come to Town
	8.  The Bus Go Up North
	9.  First Night in New York
	10. How Slim Lost Two Jobs in One Day
	11. Packin for Californy
	12. Times Square and the Mystery of Television
	13. The Ghost of the Susquehanna
	14. How We Finally Got to Californy


  1. ME AND GRANDPA

  AIN'T NEVER NOBODY LOVED ME like I love myself,
  cept my mother and she's dead. (My grandpa, he's
  so old he can remember a hunnerd years back but
  what happened last week and the day before, he
  don't know.) My pa gone away so long ago ain't
  nobody remember what his face like.  My brother,
  ever' Sunday afternoon in his new suit in front of
  the house, out on that old road, and grandpa and
  me just set on the porch rockin and talkin, but my
  brother paid it no mind and one day he was gone
  and ain't never been back.
    Grandpa, when we was alone, said he'd ten' the
  pigs and I go mend the fence yonder, and said, "I
  seed the Lawd come thu that fence a hunnerd
  years ago and He shall come again." My Aunt
  Gastonia come by buttin and puffin said that it
  was all right, she believed it too, she'd seen the
  Lord more times than they could ever count, and
  hallelujahed and hallelujahed, said "While's all
  this the Gospel word and true, little Pictorial Re-
  view Jackson" (that's me) "must go to school to
  learn and read and write," and grandpa looked at
  her plum in the eye like if'n to spit tobacco juice in
  it, and answered, "Thass awright wif me," 'ess like
  that, "but that ain't the Lawd's school he's goin' to
  and he shall never mend his fences."
    So I went to school, and came on home from
  school the afternoon after it and seed nobody
  would ever know where I come from, if what they
  called it was North Carolina.  It didn't feel like no
  North Carolina to me.  They said I was the darkest,
  blackest boy ever come to that school.  I always
  knowed that, cause I seen white boys come by my
  house, and I seed pink boys, and I seed blue boys,
  and I seed green boys, and I seed orange boys,
  then black, but never seed one so black as me.
    Well, I gave this no never mind, and 'joyed my-
  self and made some purty pies when I was awful
  little till I seed it rully did smell awful bad; and all
  that, and grandpa a-grinnin from the porch, and
  smokin his old green pipe.  One day two white boys
  came by seed me and said I was verily black as
  nigger chiles go.  Well, I said that I knowed that in-
  deedy.  They said they seed I was too small for
  what they was about, which I now forget, and I
  said it was a mighty fine frog peekin from his hand.
  HE said it was no frog, but a TOAD, and said
  TOAD like to make me jump a hunnerd miles
  high. he said it so plain and loud, and they ske-
  daddled over the hill back of my arandpa's prop-
  erty.  So I knew they was a North Carolina, and
  they was a toad, and I dreamed of it 'at night.
    On the crossroads Mr. Dunaston let me and old
  hound dog sit on the steps of his store ever' blessed
  evenin and I heard the purty singin on the radio
  just as plain, and just as good, and learned me two,
  th'ee, seben songs and sing them.  Here come Mr.
  Otis one time in his big old au-to, bought me two
  bottles Dr. Pepper, en I took one home to
  grandpa: he said Mr. Otis was a mighty fine man
  and he knowed his pappy and his pappy's pappy
  clear back a hunnerd years, and they was good
  folks.  Well, I knowed that: and we 'greed, and
  agreed Dr. Pepper allus did make a spankin' good
  fizzle for folkses' moufs.  Y'all can tell how I 'joyed
  myself then.
    Well here's all where it was laid out.  My grand-
  pa's house, it was all lean-down and 'bout to
  break, made of sawed planks sawed when they was
  new from the woods and here they was all wore
  out like poor dead stumplewood and heavin out in
  the middle.  The roof was like to slip offen its
  hinges and fall on my grandpa's head.  He make it
  no mind and set there, rockin.  The inside of the
  house was clean like a ear of old dry corn, and jess
  as crinkly and dead and good for me barefoot as     
  y'all seed if you tried it.  Grandpa and me sleep in
  the big old tinkle-bed and gots room all over it's
  so big.  Hound dog sleep in the door.  Never did
  close that door till winter come.  I cut the wood.
  grandpa light it into stove.  Set there eatin peas and
  greens and sassmeat and here's a BIG spoon and
  eat a lot till my belly's all out-when they was a
  lot.  Well, Aunt Gastonia, she bring us food, here,
  there, last week, next month.  Bring us sassmeat,
  storebread, streak-a-lean.  Grandpa grow the peas
  in the field, and grow the corn field by the fence,
  and then we fetched the pigs what we grind outen
  our moufs cause we no cain't chaw it.  Hound dog,
  eat too.  House set in the middle of the field.  Yon-
  der's the road, sand road all wore hard and pebbly,
  and the mules comin by and every now'n then a
  big au-to thrown up a fine cloud a mile high and
  me smellin it everywhere and sayin to myself,
  "Now what fo the Lawd don't make hisself mo
  clean?" Then I snups out me nose, Shah!  Well,
  over yonder is Mr. Dunaston's store at the cross-
  roads, and then the piney woods wif old crow set-
  tin ever' mornin on the branch jess cra-a-cra-a-kin,
  to beat hisself, and me say cra-cra-cra-cra jess like
  he do, and I gotsa laugh, ever' morning, hee hee
  hee, it tickle me so.  Then yonder th' other way is
  Mr. Dunaston's brother's tobacco, n'a big, big
  house Mr. Otis live in, and Miz Bell's house in the
  middler the field and Miz Bell she like to be as old
  as grandpa and smoke the pipe jess like he do.
   Well, she like me.  Ever' night ever'body sleep in
  this house and that house and ever' house, and the
  only thing you can hear is a old owl-hooo! hooo!
  -out in the woods, and yek! yek! yek! all the bats,
  ind the yowlin hound dogs, 'n the cricket-bugs a-
  creekin' in the dark.  Then there's the choo-choo
  out by TOWN, y'know.  Only thing you can't hear
  is a old spider spinnin his cobweb.  I go on in the
  shanty and break a cobweb-after I wipe myself
  that old spider, he make 'nothcr cobweb for me.
  Up yonder in the sky, they's a huniierd motion
  stars and here on the ground hit's as wet, as like
  to'd rain.  I gets me in the bed and grandpa say,
  "Boy, keep your big wet feet from me!" but in a lit-
  tle bitty while my feets is dry and I'se tucked in
  good.  Then I see the stars thu the window n' I
  sleep good.
     Y'all can tell how I 'joyed myself then?


  2. WHAT HAPPENED

  PO GRANDPA, he never get up one mornin, and
  ever'body come over from Aunt Gastonia's and
  said he was 'bout to die of misery.  On grandpa's
  pillow I laid my head down and HE tell me it ain't
  so. And he veil to the Lord to git ever'body outen
  the house except the good hound dog.  Hound dog
  set a-whinin' under the bed and lick grandpa in the
  hand.  Aunt Gastonia shoo him out.  "Hound dog,
  shoo!" Aunt Gastonia wash my face at the pump.
  Aunt Gastonia, she put the rag in my ear and stop
  up the ear and take her finger and turn and turn till
  I'se 'bout to die.  Well, I cry.  Grandpa cry too.
  Aunt Gastonia's son, he run and he run down that
  road and pooty soon, here come Aunt Gastonia's
  son run and run back up the road and zip-zip I
  never seed nobody run s'fast.  Then here come Mr.
  Otis in his big old au-to and pull up right in front
  of the house.'Well, he was a pow'ful tall man with
  yaller hair, you know, and he'membered me, and
  says, "Well there, what's to become of you, li'l
  boy?"
   Then he take grandpa by the hand, and roll up
  his eyeballs, and fish in the black satchel fo a thing
  he listen with, and listen, and ever'body else lean
  close and listen, and Aunt Gastonia slap her son
  away, and Mr. Otis 'bout to tap grandpa with one
  hand under th' other on grandpa's chest, when him
  and grandpa gits they eyes fixed on theirselves all
  sow'ful and Mr. Otis stop what he doing.  "Ah, old
  man," Mr. Otis say to grandpa, "and how have
  you been?" And grandpa show his yaller teeth in a
  grin and he say, and he cackle, "Yonder's the pipe,
  hit's a pow'ful smokin-pipe," and wink at Mr. Otis.
  Nobody know what he talk like that fo, but Mr.
  Otis he know and grandpa he laugh so much he
  jess shake like the tree when the possum climb up
  in it.  Mr. Otis says "Where?" and grandpa point to
  the shelf, still a-cacklin and 'joyin Mr. Otis so.
  Well, he sho liked Mr. Otis ever so much.  Up yon-
  der on the shelf so high I never seed it, Mr. Otis
  fetched a pipe they was talkin about.  It was made
  outen corncob and it was the biggenest best pipe
  grandpa made.  Mr. Otis, he look at it so sow'ful I
  never seed that man so.  He sav "Five years," and
  that's all he say, 'case that was the last time he seed
  grandpa, and grandpa knowed it.
     After a bit, grandpa fell asleep, and everbody
  stand aroun talkin till I cain't see how anybody
  can sleep, and here's what they said.  They said
  grandpa was mighty sick and would die for sho,
  and me, li'l Pic, well what was they t'do with me?
  Oh, it was a tar'ble lot of ctyin they was doin Aunt
  Gastonia and her friend Miz Jones, 'case they
  loved grandpa like I do, the son he cry too, and all
  the little bitty chiles that come in the door from the
  road t'see.  Hound dog, he whined outdoor t'come
  in. Mr. Otis, he told ever'body t'stop worryin' their
  minds so, mebbe grandpa be all right soon, but
  he'd no fo-sure about it, so he's gwine see about
  sendin grandpa to the hospital, and there he be all
  right.  Ever'body 'gree this is what to do and's
  grateful to Mr. Otis, 'case he pay with all his
  money t'see grandpa try to get good again.  "The
  boy," he say, t'Aunt Gastonia, "you sure your hus-
  band and your father see eye to eye with you 'bout
  keepin that boy?" and she say, "The Lord shall
  bring mercy unto them." And Mr. Otis say, "Well,
  I don't reckon it will be so but you take good care
  of him, hear, and let me know if ever'thing's all
  right." Lordy, I cry when I heard everything and
  ever'body talkin so.  Oh Lordy, I cry when they
  takes poor grandpa and carry him to the car like
  some old sick run-over hound dog and lay him in
  the back seat, and carry him off to the hospital I
  cry, Aunt Gastonia she close grandpa's door, and
  he never close It, never did once close it for a hun-
  nerd years.  The tar'ble fear make me sick and like
  to drop on the ground and dig me a hole and cry in
  it, n'hide, 'case I never seen anything but this
  house and grandpa all my born days, and here
  they come draggin me away from th' empty house
  and my grandpa's done died on me and can't help
  hisself dyin.  Oh Lord, and I remember what he say
  'bout the fence and the Lord, and 'bout Mr. Otis
  and 'bout my big wet feet, and remember him so
  awful recent and him s'far gone, I cry, and shame
  ever'body.


  3. AUNT GASTONIA'S HOUSE

  WELL, THEY TAKES ME DOWN THE ROAD to Aunt
  Gastonia's house, and it's a big old busted house
  'case they's eleben, twell folks livin there, from
  down the littlest baby-chile up to old Grandpa
  Jelkey 'at sits inside the house all old and blind.  It
  ain't like grandpa's house no way.  Is all them win-
  dows roundabout and a big brick chimbley, and
  the porch, it go clean around the house and chairs
  on it, and watermelon rinds and sand on the
  boards so's a body can't roll hisself without.  My, I
  never seed such many flies in all my born days like
  I seed in that house.  No, I don't wantsa stay here.
  Trees in the barnyard, and cherry tree, and the
  good swing, but they's six, seben chiles all squeal-
  in and squawkin and the pigs is not so good as
  grandpa's pigs never nohow.  I never seed nothin so
  tedious.  No, I don't wantsa stay here.  Gots no
  place to sleep at night exceptin in one bed with
  th'ee, fo boys, and I can't sleep with they elbows in
  my face.
    Grandpa Jelkey, that man scare me 'case he say
  "Bring that boy here," and they brings me, and he
  take a holt of me by th' arms and look at me with
  one great big yaller eye but don't aim it right, poor
  thing, and look clear over my head and can't see
  nothing.  Th' other eye, it ain't there no more, th'
  eyeball sunk inside his head.  He got no eyes, that
  old man.  He holt me tight and hurt me, and he say,
  "This here is the boy.  Well, I ain't gots to touch the
  boy more'n one time a day." Aunt Gastonia, she
  run up and pull me off.  "Why you wantsa curse
  that boy when y'already cursed ever'body seven
  times?  It ain't his fault what his father done to
  your eyes, he's 'ess a chile." And Grandpa Jelkey,
  he shout up "I'se gwine touch him seben times
  afore he dies, ain't nobody stop me."  "You ain't
  neither," Aunt Gastonia shout up, and Uncle Sim
  that's Aunt Gastonia's husband he gotsa take Aunt
  Gastonia outdoor, and me, I gotsa run and hide in
  the barnyard, 'case I'se sho scared Grandpa Jelkey
  reach out and catch me again.  Nos'r, I don't like
  Aunt Gastonia's house, no.
    Serpentine Grandpa Jelkey sit in the corner and
  eat offen his knee and ever'body else eat 'round the
  table-top, and Grandpa Jelkey hear ever'body
  talkin, and say "Is that you, boy?" and mean me.  I
  hide b'hind Aunt Gastonia.  "Come on stand by
  me, boy, so's I can touch you twicet.  T'won't leave
  me none but four, and then you pays the curse."
  "Never pay no mind whad he say," Aunt Gastonia
  say to me.  Uncle Sim he don't say nothin, and he
  never look at me neither, and I'se so scared and so
  sickly, well, I don't expect I'd a-lived in Aunt Gas-
  tonia's house long but t'go die in the woods and
  being so lowly and blue.  Aunt Gastonia say I gits
  sick and lose eleben pounds, I'se so awful and fee-
  ble and lain in the dust all day.  "What for you
  wantsa cry in the dirt, chile," say to me, "and git
  all that mud on your face like that?" She gotsa
  wipe the mud.  Aunt Gastonia, it wasn't ever her, it
  was Grandpa Jelkey, and Uncle Simeon, and all
  the chiles th'ow sand at me.  And ain't nobody take
  me see grandpa in the hospital.  "Oh Lord, I gotsa
  stop cryin so."
    Grandpa Jelkey, he reach out the window and
  cotch me and hurt me so I'se fall down dead and
  he yell, and he whoop, and he say, "Now I'se cotch
  the boy and now I done touch him twicet!"-Then
  he say, then he say, "Th'ee!-fo!-" and Aunt
  Gastonia she yank me away s'hard I fall in the
  ground.  "I done seed the sign, when I reach out to
  cotch him," Grandpa Jelkey yell, "and ain't but
  th'ee left now." Aunt Gastonia bust out cryin and
  fall on the bed and thrash hesself and don't know
  what and all the chiles run down the road t'git
  Uncle Sim what's in the,field with the mule, and he
  come runnin to the road.  Lordy, then that old
  Grandpa Jelkey come out on the porch lookin f me
  and spread his arms, f'me, and he come right
  straight t'where I is standin like he was not blind
  nohow, but then be stumble over the chair and
  yowl out, fall down and hurt hisself.  Ever'body say
  Oh! Uncle Sim pick up th' old man and carry him
  in the house and put him on the bed, and th' old
  man gaspin.  Uncle Simeon, he told cousin take me
  outdoor, so me and cousin go stand outdoor, and
  hear Uncle Sim and Aunt Gastonia a-yellin at
  each other.
    "What fo you wantsa keep that boy in this house
  what has the curse laid on him, fool woman?"
  Uncle Sim yell.  And Aunt Gastonia, she pray and
  she pray, "Oh Lord, he jess a chile, he ain't done a
  thing t'nobody, what for the Lord bring shame and
  destruction on the head of a innocent lamb, and a
  leastest chile." "I ain't got nothin to do with what
  the Lord decide," yell Uncle Sim.  Aunt Gastonia
  say "Lord God, his blood is my blood, and my sis-
  ter's blood is my blood, Oh Lord, dear Jesus, save
  us from sin, save my husband from sin, save my fa-
  ther-'n-law from sin, save my chillun from sin, and
  Lord, dear Lord, save ME, Gastonia Jelkey, from
  sin." Uncle Sim, he come out on the porch and
  give the blackenest look, and walk away, 'case
  Aunt Gastonia she pray all night now, and he
  don't got nothing to say.  Grandpa Jelkey, he fall
  asleep.
   Well cousin older'n me take me down the road
  and show me TOWN out yonder, 'case he knowed
  I'se so forlorn.  He say, "Tonight Satty night, ever-
  'body git drunk and go to TOWN yonder and they
  rocks, thass what they do, yas'r." I say, "What you
  mean rocks?" He say, "Boy, they gots jumpin-
  music and jamboree-singin and dancin all that
  truck.  Yas'r, I seed it Satty night, had some barbe-
  cue pig and daddy he drink the bottle down like
  'is"-and he throw his big head back, cousin, and
  he have the biggenest head, y'know, and show me,
  and say-"WHooee!" Then he jump around a-
  holtin hisself by the arms t'show me, and he say,
  "This here dancin.  B'you cain't go to no jamboree
  'case you gotsa curse on you." So me'n cousin go
  down the road a bit, and they's all the lights of
  TOWN I ain't never seed before, and we sits up in
  the apple tree and sees all that.  But I is so low-
  down it don't make no neither much to me.  Lordy,
  what's I care about all that old town?
    Well, cousin go thisaway and I go thataway, and
  I traipse back up the woods and down the hill to
  Mr. Dunaston's store, and hear me some radio
  singin again.  Then, you bet, I go way down that
  road t'grandpa's house.  It's all so still, s'empty,
  well, ain't nobody know it but I is 'bout to die and
  go to my death in the ground.  Old hound dog
  yowlin at grandpa's door, but he ain't livin there,
  and I ain't livin there neither, ain't nobody livin
  'bout it, and he yowl his soul.
    Well, grandpa seed the Lord come thu the fence
  a hunnerd years ago, and now he gotsa die in the
  hospital and never get t'see no fence nor nothin no
  more.  I ask to th' Lord, "What for the Lord do it to
  po grandpa?"
    I cain't remember no more 'bout Aunt Gasto-
  nia's house and everything done happened there.


  4. BROTHER COME TO FETCH ME

  A BOY LIKE ME AIN'T GOT NO PLACE TO SLEEP lessen
  he stay where he's at, and I sho didn't wantsa stay
  at Aunt Gastonia's no more, but jess ain't was no-
  where for me to sleep but that po woman's house,
  so I traipse back thu the black woods, yes'r and
  there she is, Aunt Gastonia, waitin up fine with
  the oil lamp in the kitchen.  "Sleep, my chile." she
  say to me, and so kindly I'se like to fall and sleep
  on her knee, like I done on my mother's knee when
  I'se a little bitty chile, before she got die.  "Aunt
  Gastonia take care of you no matter what," she
  say, and stroke m'head, and I fall asleep.
    Well, I'se sick in the bed for two, th'ee, seben
  days and it rain and rain all the time and Aunt
  Gastonia feed me grits and sugar and heat up col-
  lard greens for me.  Grandpa Jelkey, he sit on the
  other side of the house and say "Bring that boy to
  me," but ain't nobody bring me to him nor tell him
  where I is, and Aunt Gastonia tell ever'body to
  shush.  Grandpa Jelkey cotch cousin thu the win-
  dow like he done me, and he say, "Nope, I reckon
  this ain't the boy." And cousin he howl like I did.
    I sleep two days, and don't wake up none but for
  to sleep again, and Aunt Gastonia she send cousin
  to fetch Mr. Otis, but Mr. Otis he gone up
  NORTH.  "Where he gone up NORTH?" she say
  to cousin, and cousin say, "Why he jess gone up
  NORTH." "What part the NORTH he gone up
  there?" and cousin say, "Why, he's gone up to
  NORTH VIRGINIA." Aunt Gastonia, she bow
  her po head down and don't know whatsa do.
    So Mr. Otis is gone, and Aunt Gastonia pray for
  me, and bring Miz Jones to pray for me too.
    Uncle Sim, he look at me once, and he say to
  Aunt Gastonia, "That boy's 'bout to folly his
  grandaddy I reckon," and she look up to the roof
  and say, "Amen, the world ain't fit for no such a
  lamb, Jesus save his soul." "Well," say Uncle Sim,
  "I don't guess it's but one less mouf t'feed," and
  she shriek "Oh Jehovah guide my man from sinful
  ways." "Shush your mouf, woman, this man ain't
  got no time for sinful ways and he ain't a-gonna
  get no new stove this winter neither, 'case that to-
  bacco patch been cursed, hear, the bugs done
  started eatin leaves since that boy been here." And
  he stomp out the door.
    Well, thass the longest talk I ever hear that man
  make.
    I lay in the bed one Satty mornin, and W H O O P!
  they's ever'body yellin and talkin outdoor, and
  carryin on so loud I try to see and stretch my head
  way out but cain't see nothin.  They all comes
  tra ipsin up the porch.  Well I pull my head back 'case
  I'se sick.  Well, who do you guess come in that
  door, and all the chillun grinnin behind?
    If it ain't my brother, dog my cats, and he
  change so much since he go away from me and
  grandpa, I cain't for sure say who that man is
  standin in the door, 'case he gots a little bitty
  round hat on his head with a little bitty button on
  top of it, and hairs a-hangin from his chin p'culiar,
  and he all thin, and lean, and all drew-out tall, and
  sorry-lookin too.  He laugh and laugh when he see
  me, and come over to the bed for t'catch me, and
  look at me in th'eye.  "Here he is," he say, and it
  ain't nobody he talk it to, 'case he say it to hisself,
  and smile, and me, I'se so s'prised I don't say
  nothin.  Well, y'know, I'se so s'prised it make me sit
  up in the bed.
    All the chillun is grinnin, but Aunt Gastonia she
  trouble and fuss hesself, poor soul, and she keep
  lookin over her shoulder for fear Uncle Sim come
  up the road, 'case he don't like my brother neither,
  I don't reckon.  "Looky here John, where you been
  and what's you come here for?" she say to my
  brother, and he say "Hey now" and jump up and
  do the most comical shufflin 'bout the house I ever
  seed, and I laugh, and all the chillun laugh with
  me, and.  Grandpa Jelkey, he rare up and say,
  "What fo ever'body laugh?"
     "I come here to fetch Mister Pic, ma'm, and
  bring him on my magic carpet up NORT -1 to
  NEW YORK CITY, your grace," he say, and do
  the most comical bow-down and fetch off his com-
  ical hat and show ever'body his head.  The chiles
  and me, we gotsa laugh again and you ain't never
  seed such 'joyin and laughin.  "Who that talkin?"
  Grandpa Jelkey say, and he say "Why-all's them
  chillun laugh so?" But ain't nobody tell him.
     "How come you here?" Aunt Gastonia ask my
  brother, and he tuck his hat under his arm and say,
  "Why, for to get my brother, that's how come,
  and he don't traipse about no more, and the chil-
  lun teeter on th' edge of their feets, 'case they
  wantsa laugh some more, but now the big folkses
  solemn actin.
     Me, well great day in the mornin, I get up and
  trample on the bed with m'feet, hear, I cotch in'
  breath so hard and feel so good.  Whoo!
     "You dassn't," Aunt Gastonia say to him, and
  he say "Yes I do, and why do you say I dassn't?"
  "Why?" Aunt Gastonia say, "and ain't you some
  no-account man come in here and say you's gwine
  take this sick chile away from the roof over his
  head?"
    "No roof of his own, Aunt Gastonia," he say,
  and that woman rare up and yell, "Don't Aunt
  Gastonia with me none, folks around know you's
  no-account and never did anything b'drink and
  traipse around the highway ever' blessed night and
  then 'ess up and leave when you most was needed
  by your po old folks.  Go away, go away."
    "Who that in the house?" Grandpa Jelkey yell,
  and fuss and pull at th'arms of his chair and look
  around.  Well, you know, me and the chillun don't
  laugh no more now.
    "Lady," say my brother, "how you talk," and
  Aunt Gastonia she yell, "Don't lady me, and don't
  come here fetchin no chile from outen my roof and
  learn him the ways of evil like you done learned
  from your pappy.  YES," she yell, "you no better'n
  your pappy ever was and no better'n no Jackson
  ever was."
    Well, I seed all about my life right then.  "Who
  that man in the house?" yell Grandpa Jelkey, and
  he was so pow'ful mad I ain't never seed that old
  blind man so mad.  He fetch up his cane and holt it
  tight.  Well, right then here come Uncle Sim on the
  porch, and when that man see my brother standin
  in the middle of the house his eyes git big they's
  like chicken eggs, and white, and round, as hard.
  And he say soft, and p'culiar, "You ain't got no
  call bein in this house, man, and you knowed
  that." He don't turn away none but reach behind
  the door and pull out that old shovel what's lean-
  ing there.  "Git out of here." Aunt Gastonia cotch
  her neck quick, and open her mouth to scream, but
  ain't scarce ready yet, and ever'body wait.


  5. SOME ARGUFYIN

  WELL, YOU KNOW, my brother be ain't so scared of
  Mr. Sim with his big old shovel, and say, "I ain't
  pickin up this here chair to hit nobody with, nor
  kill nobody 'cause I come here peaceable and
  quiet, but I'm sure holdin on to this chair so long
  as you hold that shovel Mr. Jelkey," and he holt up
  that chair like the man with lion.  His eyeballs get
  red and he don't like so much none of this.  Uncle
  Sim, he look at him, then he look at Aunt Gasto-
  nia, and he say, "What's that boy doin here, tell
  me, hear?"
     And she tell him.  And he say "Well then, hush
  up woman," and he turn to my brother and say,
  "Well go on, and go on mighty quick" and he point
  out the door.
    "Get him, Sim," Grandpa Jelkey yell, and he get
  up from his chair again and holt out his cane, and
  yell, "Hit him over the head with the stick, boy."
   "Sit that old man down," say Uncle Sim but
  Aunt Gastonia she start wailin and carryin on for
  me, 'case she don't wants me to leave with my
  brother, and she say, "No, Sim, no, that boy's sick
  and go hungry and cotch cold and ever' single
  thing in the world will happen to him and he'll
  turn bad, sinful bad, with that man, and the Lord
  shall drop it on my soul like the hot irons of hell
  and perdition, on your soul too, and on this
  house," and she say this rarin up most tearful and
  pitiful, for me to see, and come over to hold me
  and hide me from ever'body and kiss me all over.
  Whoo!
    "Put on your clothes Pic," my brother say to me,
  and Uncle Sim put down the shovel, and my
  brother put down the chair, and Aunt Gastonia
  cry and cry, and holt me, poor woman, and I jess
  can't move an inch I'se so sorry t'see everything
  come so mean and bad.  Well, Uncle Sim, he come
  over and cotch Aunt Gastonia and pull her 'way
  from me, and my brother find my shirt and put it
  on me, and Aunt Gastonia shriek.  Lordy, I find my
  shoes and I find my hole-hat and I'se ready to go,
  and brother fetch me up piggyback, and here we
  go for the door.
    Well then, what you supposed happened?  Here
  come Mr. Otis' au-to licketysplit to the door, and
  out he come and knock on the house, and look in,
  and say "Well what's this?" and look at ever'body
  and push his hat back.
   Well, here go ever'body talkin at the same time.
  Aunt Gastonia, she argufy so hard, and explain-so
  loud, and pray so shriekly, ain't nobody else can
  hear what's goin on, and Mr. Otis listen to her and
  look at ever'body else most quiet, and don't say
  nothin.  Well, brother put me down 'case he can't
  scarce stand there with me on his back whilst ever-
  'body yell, and Mr. Otis take my wrist, and listen,
  then he roll up m'eyeball like he done poor
  grandpa and look in there, then he back up and
  look me all over, and say, "Well, 'pears Pic's in
  good enough health anyway.  Now will you explain
  everything once around again for me?" and, after
  Aunt Gastonia done that, and he shocked his head
  yes, uh-huh, yes, uh-huh, he say, "Well, I don't
  want to interfere with you folks but I don't guess I
  was wrong when I said it wouldn't ever do to bring
  the boy here, ma'm, and likewise don't guess he
  can stay here." He look at Uncle Sim when he say
  that, and Uncle Sim say, "Yes'r, I don't'spect, Mr.
  Otis, ain't been but trouble since he come here."
  Then Mr. Otis go over and sav hello to Grandpa
  Jelkey, and Grandpa Jelkey say "I'se shore pleased
  to hear your voice again, Mister Otis" and he j'ess
  sit there grinnin from ear to ear 'case Mr. Otis
  visitin.
    Then Mr. Otis say, "I feet I owe it to this child's
  grandaddy to see he's taken care of proper" and he
  turn to my brother, and I don't reckon he like my
  brother no more'n ever'body else, 'case he say, and
  shake his head, "It don't 'pear to me like you can
  take care of this child, neither.  You got a job up
  north?"
    "Yes'r, I got a job," my brother say, and he
  make a plain face and tuck his hat under his arm
  again, but Mr. Otis don't 'pear to 'gree with him,
  and say "Well, is that the only clothes you got to
  wear when you travel?" and ever'body look at my
  brother's clothes, which ain't much of a much, and
  Mr. Otis say, "All you got there is a Army jacket,
  and there's holes in the side of your pants, and
  they don't fit right much anyhow because they're
  all swole up at the legs and come down to your an-
  kles so's I can't see how you can take 'em off, and
  you've got a red shirt that ain't been washed, and
  G.I. boots pretty well scraggly by now, and that
  there beret on your head, so how do you ever ex-
  pect me to believe you've got a job when you come
  travelin on home like that?"
    "Well sir," my brother say, "it's the style nowa-
  days in NEW YORK," but that don't satisfy Mr.
  Otis none, and he say, "Goatee and all?  Well, I just
  got back from New York City myself and I ain't
  'shamed to say it was my first time up there, and I
  don't think it's a fit place for folks to live whether
  they be white or colored.  I don't see any harm
  takin care of your brother if you stay home, for
  after all your grandaddy's house IS still standin
  and you can get a job HOME as well as everywhere
  else."
     "Well sir," my brother say, "I got a wife in New
  York," and Mr. Otis say quick "Does she work?"
  and my brother teeter a little bit on that, and say,
  "Yes, she works," and Mr. Otis say, "Well then
  who's goin to take care -of this child durin the
  day?" and my brother get red in the eyeball again
  'case he can't conjure up no more to say.  Well, you
  know, I has my fingers crossed, 'case I be so
  pleased when my brother and me was headin for
  that door, and here I'se stopped dead in that old
  house again.
     "He'll go to school in the daytime," my brother
  say, and give Mr. Otis a look all tuckered-out and
  s'prised from such some talk, and Mr. Otis, he
  smile, and he say "Well, I don't cast any doubt on
  your intentions, but who's goin to watch that child
  when he comes home from school in that NEW
  YORK traffic?  Who's goin to help him cross the
  street in that coldhearted city, see he don't get run
  over by a truck and such-like?  Yes, and where's
  that boy likely to get some fresh air to breathe?
  And proper friends that don't go about with knives
  and guns at fourteen?  I ain't seen anything like it
  in all my born days.  I don't aim to wish such a life
  on that bov, and don't guess his grand-daddy
  would neither in these last days of his, and I'm
  only doin this because I owe it at least to a very old
  friend of mine who taught me how to fish when I
  was no higher'n his knee.  Well," and he turn to
  Aunt Gastonia, and heave a sigh all under him
  "the only proper thing to do is put him in a good
  home till he's old enough t' decide for himself."
  And he pull out a fine book from his coat, and un-
  cork a fine pen, and write most handsome inside it.
  "First thing in the mornin I'll call up and make
  whatever arrangements are necessary, and mean-
  while the boy can stay here," and he turn to Aunt
  Gastonia, "because I'm sure, ma'm, you'll see that
  everything is maintained proper.  Yes, and Mr.
  Otis speak jess as fine and jess as pleasin as that.
    But it ain't so pleasin to me none, 'case I don't
  like to stay in Aunt Gastonia's house 'nother min-
  ute, 'nother night, 'nother no time, nor go to no
  GOOD HOME like Mr. Otis said, nor see
  m'brother traipse off so lone and blue down the
  road like he done.  Well, he look back over his
  shoulder, poor brother, ever' now and then, and
  dust up the sand slow with his ARMY BOOTS,
  and Aunt Gastonia's chillun they folly him a piece
  down the road 'case they like him so and wantsa
  see him shuffle and bow-down some more like he
  done in the house, but he don't.  Mr. Otis stay on
  the porch talkin to tjncle Sim till my brother gone
  in the woods, then Mr. Otis get in his big au-to and
  go.
    Well O well, they I was.


  6. I GO THU THE WINDOW

  COME NIGHTFALL EVER'BODY GO TO BED, and I'se
  in the bed with my th'ee little bitty cousins and
  can't sleep none, and say to myself, "Oh me, what
  happen to me next?" and I'se wearisome for ever-
  'thing and can't neither cry nor nothing no more.
  Ever'thing I fixed on done run out on me and
  wasn't nothin I could do.  Lord, it was a bad long
  night.
    Well, next thing I know I'se sleepin 'case I wake
  up and hear the hound dogs yelpin outdoor, and
  Uncle Sim open the window from where he sleep
  and sing out "Shet up that snappin and squallin
  out there," and Aunt Gastonia say, "What for the
  hound dogs cry?"
    And Uncle Sim look, and come back in and say
  "Y'ere's a black cat spittin in the tree up yonder"
  and he go back to sleep.  Aunt Gastonia she say,
  "Black cat go'way from my do," and she make the
  sign, and go back to sleep likewise.
    Then I hear in' little bitty cousin Willis what
  sleep by the window say "Who dat?" and I hear,
  ever so soft, "Shhh," and I look.  Whooee, it's my
  brother in the window, and me and Willis creep up
  over little bitty Henry, and puts our noses to the
  screen, and then Jonas, he come too, and put his
  nose to the screen.  "It the man done dance," say
  little Willis, and he go "Hee hee hee," but my
  brother put his finger on his mouth and say
  "Shhh!" Here ever'body listen close for Aunt Gas-
  tonia and Uncle Sim, and Grandpa Jelkey y'at
  sleep in the corner, but they jess sleepin and sno-
  rin, and the hound dogs whine so they don't hear
  nothin neither.
    "What for you come here Mister Dancin Man?"
  say little Willis, and Jonas say "Uh-huh?" and lit-
  tle Henry wake up and say "Gil offen my laig!"
  awful loud and ever'body jump back in the bed
  under the covers and in' brother duck down be-
  hind the window.  Well, woof, you know, I hold up
  my breath then.  But ain't nobody wake up'
    Ever'body rare back up the window, soft.
    "Is you gwine shuffle again?" Jonas say, and lit-
  tle bitty Henry he woke up and seed what was in
  the window, and rub his eye, and say, "Ish-yo-gin-
  shuff-gin?" 'case he always r'peats what Jonas say.
  My brother say "Shhh" and little bitty Henry put
  his finger to his mouth and turn around and nudge
  me, you know, like it was my foot, then ever'body
  look at my brother again.
    "I'se come to get Pic," my brother say thu his
  hands, "but I come back tomorrow or next year
  and dance all over fo ever'one of you and give you
  each fifty cents, hear me now?"
    "What fo you don't wantsa dance now?" little
  Willis say, and Jonas say "Jess a little bit?" and lit-
  tle bitty Henry say "Jlz-il-bit, hmm?" and my
  brother put his head on one side, and look at ever-
  'body, and say, "Well, I do really b'lieve they's a
  Heaven somewhere," and he say, "Pic, git in your
  clothes quiet whilst I dance for these folks," and I
  do that quick and my brother he shuffle-up soft
  and dance in the yard in the moonlight and the
  chiles watch with a great big old s'prised grin on
  they faces.  Well, you never seed such a dance like
  he done b'neath the moon like that, and no chiles
  like them seed one neither.
    "Shet up that snappin and squallin out there!" yell
  Uncle Sim from t'other side of the house, and I tell
  you, ever'body duck down again s'fastnobody seed
  th' other do it.  But Uncle Sim, he only mean the
  hounds, poor sicepin man.
    Then ever'body raise up 'nother time again.
    Brother undone the screen from the window and
  say "Shh" and reach in, and Jonas say "Shh" and
  little Henrv say "S" and I cotch brother's neck,
  and out I go with my head first and then the feet,
  and dog my cats, and cat my dogs, and looky-here,
  if I ain't out in that barnyard in the middle of the
  dark and ready to leave and go.
    "Less go," my brother say, and he haul me up
  on his back like he done in th' afternoon, and we
  turn around and look at the chiles in the window,
  and they's so sorry-lookin they's fixin to cry, you
  know, and my brother know this, and he say,
  "Don't cry, chillun, 'case me and Pic come back
  tomorrow or next year and we all have a big fine
  time together and go down the crick and fish, and
  eat candy, and th'ow the baseball, and tell tales t'
  each other, and climb up the tree and hant the
  folks below, and all such fine things, you jess wait
  awhile, you 'ess see, y'hear me now?"
    "Yas'r," Jonas sav, and little Henry say, "Yass,"
  and little Willis say "Uh-huh" and off me and
  m' brother go, 'cross the barnyard and over the
  fence and into the woods and don't make a sound.
  Whoo!  We gone and done it.


   7. WE COME TO TOWN

   GRANDPA, IT WAS THE DARKENEST NIGHT 'case the
   moon got covered over by clouds jess as soon as
   brother and me reach the woods, and that moon
   was jess a scant banana moon and showed but
   scraggy and feeble betwixt the cloudy when it took
   out.  It got cold, too, and I shore was chill.  I reckon
   they was a rainstorm comin to warm me, 'case I
   don't at all feel so good as I done when we begun.
   Seem like they was somethin I forgot to do, or
   somethin I forgot to bring from back at Aunt Gas-
   tonia's house, but I knowed they was nothin like
   that, exceptin I all dreamed it.  Lordy why'd I go
   dass dream such a thing and fret myself there?
   Way across the woods and thu the black yonder,
   here come the train, but it's pow'ful far off 'case me
   and brother only getsa hear it when the wind blow,
   and hear it wooo-all long draw-out and goin
   away, sound like waitin for to get to the hills.
   Shoo! it was cold, and p'cullar, and black.  But my
   brother, he don't mind.
    He carry me thu the woods a space, then he put
   me down and say, "Woof, boy, I ain't goin to carry
   you on my back all the way to New York," and we
   tramp along till we get to the corn field, and then
   he say, "Here, you sure you can walk all right after
   bein sick like you was?" and I say "Yas'r, I'se jess
   a little chill" and walk along.
     My brother say, "I get you a coat first thing,"
   and then he say "Get up little boy," and he haul
   me up on his back again and look around at me
   out the corner of his eye.  "Listen t' me, Pic" he say,
   "you're every bit sure you want to come along with
   me ain't you?" and I say "Yas'r."
     "Well what for you call me sir when you know
   I'm your brother?"
     "Yas'r" I say, and then I cotch myself and sav
   "Yas'r, brother," and don't know what to say.
   Well, I reckon I was scared for I don't scarce know
   where we's goin and what happen to me when we
   get there if we gets there, and it don't sit right to
   myself to ask brother 9at come get me so glad and
   so pleased like that.
      "Listen to me, Pic," he say, "you jess go along
   with me till we get home and call me Slim like
   ever'body else do, hear?"

     "Yas'r, Slim" I say, and then I cotch myself
   again, and say "Yass, Slim."
     "Well there you go" he laugh.  "Now say, you
   seen that black cat back yonder in the Jelkeys' tree
   that had all them hound dogs barkin at it?  I brung
   it there myself to make them dogs miss me, and
   didn't it spit, and fetch them up fine and bring us
   good luck that old black cat?  Well, lookout!" Slim
   say to a tree, and dodge of it, and duck behind it,
   and bark at it, and go "Fsst!" like a cat, and both
   of us laugh some.  That's the way he was, grandpa.
     "Po little boy," he say, and give a sigh, and
   hitch me up higher on his back.  "I guess you're as
   much scared of everything like a grown man is.  It's
   like the man say in the Bible-A fugitive and a
   vagabond shalt thou be in the earth.  You ain't
   scarce eleven years old and already knowed that, I
   don't guess you didn't.  Well, I come and made a
   vagabond out of you proper," and we walk along
   and come to see the lights of town up ahead, and
   he don't say nothin.  Then here we go step on the
   road.
     "Now, I'll tell you where we're goin," my
   brother say like if he read my mind and see all the
   troubles in it, and he say, "Then we'll unnerstand
   each other fine and be friends to go out to the
   world together.  When I heard about grandpa I
   knowed all the trouble and shame that would come
   down on your head, Pic, and told Sheila, that's my
   wife, she'll be your new mother now, and she
   agreed with me and said-Go down get that poor
   chile.  Well," he said, "Sheila's a mighty fine
   woman and you see pretty soon.  So here I come
   down South for you 'case I'm the only kin you got
   left, and you're the only kin I got, baby.  Now, you
   know why Mr. Otis give Grandpa Jackson that
   shack and that piece of land you was born on?-
   and why Mr. Otis wanted to help you today?"
     "Nos'r, Slim" I say, and I shore wantsa hear it.
     "Because your grandpa was born a slave and
   Mr. Otis' grandpa owned him once, you never
   knowed that did you?"
     "Nos'r, Slim, nobody never told me that," I say,
   and seem to me I heard folks talk about slave one
   time, and it fetch up recollections, you know.
     "Mr.  Otis," my brother say, "he's a good man
   and feels he owes some of the colored folks some
   help now and then, and he has a nice way by him
   though it ain't by me, and mean well.  Ever'body
   mean well, in their own pitiful way, and Aunt Gas-
   tonia mostly, poor woman.  Uncle Sim Jelkey ain't
   no bad man, he's jess poor and can't support no
   vagabond Pics like you none.  He don't too much
   hate anybody in his inside heart.  Old Grandpa
   Jelkey, he's jess a old crazy man and I don't guess
   I'd-be crazy too if the same thing happened to
   me that happened to him.  I tell you about that a
   minute.  Well, I don't aim to see you go to nofoster
   home like Mr. Otis was fixin to send you today.
     Now, you know why Aunt Gastonia take you in
   but the nienfolk Jelkeys don't want you?"
     Well, I wantsa hear this, and I say "Why that?"
     "That's because your daddy, Alpha Jackson, my
   daddy as well as yours, done blinded old Grandpa
   Jelkey in a fearsome fight about ten years ago and
   ain't nothin but bad blood left betwixt the two
   families.  Aunt Gastonia, she was your mother's sis-
   ter and loved your mother very much all her life,
   and took care of her right down the end when
   daddy come out of five years sentence in the work
   gang, three of 'em in the Dismal Swamp, and never
   did come back home to her."
     "Where'd he go?" I ax my brother, and try to re-
   member my father's face, but it wasn't no use.
     "Nobody know," my brother say, and he walk
   along glum. and he say "Little man, your father
   was a wild man and a bad man and that's all he
   was, or is, and whether he's alive or dead and
   where-EVER he's at tonight.  Your mother's long
   dead, poor soul, and nobody blamed her for be-
   comin crazy and dyin like she done.  Boy," my
   brother say to me, and turn his head to look at me,
   "you and me come from the dark." He said that,
   and said it jess as glum.
     Well, here we come off the sand road and step
   on the most level and pleasin road I ever seed, and
   it's got white posts on the side with little bitty j'ew-
   els shinin where the road go across the creek, and's
   got a fine white line painted in the middle of it and
   all such things.  Well!  And yonder straight ahead's
   all the lights of town, and here come three, four au-
   tos followin each other and hav'n a fine fast time,
   zoom, zoom, zoom.
     "Well," my brother say, "you still want to come
   along with me?"
     "Yas'r, Slim, I shore do wantsa go with you."
     "Boy," he say, "you and me's hittin that old
   road for the WAY-yonder.  Hey, lookout every-
   body, here we come," and ain't nobody 'round he
   say that to, but here we go jumpin down the road
   along two, th'ee white houses, both of us feelin so
   fine, and my brother say "Here we come to the
   outskirts of town" and wave his arm and yell
   "Wheee," and we hoop-de-doop along.
     Here we go by a old white house as big as the
   woods in back of it, and the house got white poles
   and a porch mighty pleasin to see up front, and
   ever so many grand windows clear round back,
   and lights shinin from out the windows on the
   handsome grassy yard, and my brother say "Yon-
   der's the ancestrial home of General Clay Tucker
   Jefferson Davis Calhoun retired hero of the Seven-
   teenth Regimental Divisional Brigade of the Con-
   t'ederate Union 'at got hisself shot in the left side ti-
   bular tendon and got hisself stickpinned with a
   Gold Star Purple Honor of Congress medal and is
   now a hunnerd years old in his libr'y up yonder
   writin the Immemoriam Memories of the Gettys-
   burg Shiloh Battle of Smoky Appamatoxburg,
   whoo!" and he carry on like that with everything,
   and he don't care.
     And here we go jumpin 'longside a regular
   house. and another regular house, then they's a
   whole heap of regular houses, and then they get
   un-regular and all red-rock color and lights pop up
   everywhere you see.  Whoo!  I never seed so many
   lights, and poles, and window-glass, nor so many
   people walkin on such even and fine roads.  "This
   is town," my brother say, and well, you know, it
   seem to me 'ess 'bout then I seed this here TOWN
   a lonii time ago with my mother in a au-to, when
   we come to the movie show one time and I was lit-
   tle and small and couldn't guess to remember such
   things.  And now here I was in town again, but I
   was growed-tip and I was goin out to the world
   with my brother.  Well, everything began to be pow-
   'ful fetchin to watch at.
      Here we turn thu a black old place and my
   brother say "This here's the alley you're goin to
   wait for me in whilst I get some sandwiches for the
   bus," and he put me down'case he's all tucker out,
   and he take my hand and we walk.  Here we come
   to the end of the alley, right across from a road at's
   all lit-up and brightly, but the alley it's in a shadow
   for me to wait in.  "Yonder's the chicken shack," he
   say.  "I'll go cross the street quick, and don't dass
   let nobody see you in case the Jelkeys done woke
   up and fix to send somebody find us, hear?  Stand
   right here," he say, and push me agin the red-rock
   wall, and set me there, and then off he go toot
   across that street.
     Well, grandpa. they I was with my back ain that
   wall, and look up at the sky betwixt it and th'other
   wall, and everywhere I turn my ear I hear au-tos,
   and folkses talkin, and all kind of noises and
   music, and I tell you, it was the noise of ever'body
   doin somethin at the same time all over with they
   hands and feet and voices, 'ess as plain.  I never
   heard it before in the country, exceptin it come to
   my ear, jess like the water in the crick way yonder
   in the nighttime, swash, swash, and come most
   jumble-up and jolly.  I'se so still and listenin, seem
   like everboqy doin somethin 'cept me.  Across the
   street is that chicken shack, and it ain't nothin but
   a little bitty old shack jess like it say, but's got a
   most pow'ful bright light inside and they's men sit-
   tin in front of a long table-top, and they's eatin
   somethin 'at smell so good to me my mouth start
   waterin right where I is.  They's a heap of radio
   music in there, and I can hear it clear across the
   street loud, hear the man sing: "Where you been
   hiding baby, been looking everywhere, how come you
   treat me mean, can't you see I care?" Well, it was
   fine radio music, the best I ever did hear, and come
   out of a big box with red and valler lights turnin
   round in it.  Over the door they was a wheel spin in
   a screen, and go humm, humm, and behind it a
   body could hear still another humm-humm from
   far away and it sound like a bly ener wheel than
   that.  Well, I reckon that was the world wheel I
   heard then.  Wasn't it, grandpa?  Oh, I was jess
   pleased.
     I say to myself, "I jess take two step-ups this
   alley," and I move up along the wall and come to
   see more of the street.  Whoo!  It shore was brightly
   and pleasin.
     Then here come my brother out of the chicken
   shack with a paper bag in his hand, and here come
   a bunch of men along the street, and they see him
   and yell, "Hey there Slim, what you doin down
   from NEW YORK?" And he yell, "Hello there
   Harry, and hello there Mr. Redtop Tenorman, and
   hello there Smoky Joe.  Well, what you boys up
   to?" and they say, "Oh, wejess draggin along, you
   know." And he say, "Ain't heard you boys jump in
   a long time," and they say "Oh, we jump now and
   then.  Say, how you make it with that mustache on
   your chin?" My brother say, "Oh, jess goin along
   tryin to have a good time, you know," and they say
   "Well hey now" and go off down the street and
   ever'body say see you later.
     Yes, I shore liked town and never knowed it was
   so lively.
     Me and brother sneak on down the alley and
   back to the skirts of town, and skedaddle along
   feelin good 'case we gets to eat some of them saiid-
   wiches soon and 'case brother sav we wait for the
   bi4s by thejiinction, and that bus it's about due any
   minute, and when we get on thal- bus I won't be
   cold no more, and he won't neither.  "Bus station
   ain't no place for us tonight, boy," he says to me,
   and he say "Oh well, oh well, and who cares, I
   guess it's all the same when you believe in the Lord
   like I do, now say, You hear me Lord?"
     And we sit on the white posts with the shiny but-
   tons in em and wait 'bout half an hour for the bus,
   or two half hours, I don't recollect.
     Here it come.  It come big and brawly in the
   road, and said "WASHINGTON" on it, and the
   man at the wheel jam down the speed to stop for
   us, and it go zoom-boom right by us like it
   NEVER stop, and spit sand and wind and a old
   hot smell in my face, but stop yonder jess for us,
   and we run for it.  Well, when I seed that big ma-
   chine I said to myself "Ain't nobody know where
   I'm goin in this thing but my brother watch over
   me from now on."
     I never see Aunt Gastonia no more now.


   8. THE BUS GO UP NORTH

   GRANDPA, ain't gonta tell too much about the bus
   case a heap of doins was cropp'n up in NEW
   YORK, and I didn't have no notion about em in
   that bus, and jess gawked, you know.
     Well, brother and me paid the man some
   money, then we walked back thu the people in the
   seats and ever'body look at us and we look at
   them, then we sit down in the back sofa, only it
   ain't rightly a soft sofa, and there we sit lookin
   straight ahead over ever'body's head at the driver,
   and he turn off the light and zoom-up the bus, and
   faster and faster we go with two big old lights
   leadin us the way thu the land.  Brother fall asleep
   right away, but I stayed awake.  I reckon we left
   North Carolina after 'bout a half hour, or two half
   hours, 'case the road done chanige from black to
   brown and on each side of it I didn't get to see no
   more houses but jess the wilderness.  I guess it was
   jess great big old woods without no houses, and
   dark? and black? and j'ess as solemn9 It was t e
   wilderness Aunt Gastonia pray about when she
   pray agin it so loud.
     And here come the rain pourin down on that
   wilderness, and the road run wet and lonesome
   right thu it.
     It was a scarifyin thing to see and make a body
   glad he's in a bus with a whole lot of people.
     I watched ever'body all night long, but they was
   most sleepin in their chairs and it was too black to
   see, and I tried to see, but it wasn't no use.  I shore
   didn't wantsa go to sleep that night.
     I say to myself "Pic, you're going to New York
   now, and ain't it somethin, now ain't it?" and I
   prod myself, and feel good.
     And I got all sleepy p'culiar in m'eyes 'case I
   sleep this time of the evenin back home here, and
   over to Aunt Gastonia's too, so next thing I know I
   jess has to sleep, and that's all I done that night.
     Come 'bout mornin I look up and see where I
   am, in the bus, and can't believe it, and say to my-
   self "Now that's why I'se bouncin so dadblame
   much." And I look over to brother, and he's still
   sleepin and's got the whole back sofa to hisself
   and's all stretched out loose and peaceful, and I'se
   pleased to see him sleep so 'case I know he must be
   tired.  And I look out the window.
     And you know, I never seed anything so pow'ful
   grand and big, and I seed pow'fuller and grander
   things since then, all the way to Californy.  What I
   seed then was J'ess like when the first time I seed
   the world I tell you.  It was a great river with a tree
   shore on both sides, and poureds a whole power of
   water betwixt the land about a mile long, and then
   it spread out yonder all flat I guess for to pass off
   to the sea.  Way yonder on a hill they was a big old
   white house with posts on the porch like I seed the
   night before, a ancestrial home of a General retired
   hero of Appamatoxburg like brother said, and on
   the other side of the river I seed a grand and fear-
   some housetop, all white and round and jess like a
   handsome cup upside down, with little bitty far
   away trees and tiny little roofs rounderneath it.
   The man in front said to his wife, "Yonder's the
   Capitol dome darling" and point to it, and that's
   what it was.  And they was the finest, softenest
   wind blew in from the land to the river, and make
   everything ripple and jump in the water all over,
   most peaceful.  The sun shine on that grand fine
   Capitol dome and hit flush on a streamer 'at's tied
   to a gold pole way on top of it, and do it dazzly,
   too.  All that land I told you we done roll over in
   the bus all night, here we was in the middle of it,
   case they never was a town so white and so laid
   out grand, and brother woke up and said "Thii
   here is the city of Washingion the nation's capitol
   where the President of the United States of Amer-
   ica and ever'body is," and he rub his eyes, and I
   look close and can see they's a heap of things goin
   on yonder in Washington 'case I hear it hum all
   over when the bus slow down at the river red light
   and I put my head out the winuow to watch.  Well,
   and I never seed such a big sky, and so many fine,
   solemn clouds as passed over Washington of the
   United States 'at mornin.
     After that, grandpa, I didn't get to sleep much.  It
   was mighty hot inside the city of Washington when
   we stopped there and had to change to another bus
   'at said NEW YORK on it, and crowded? Ever-
   'body in the world lined up for that New York bus,
   and sat inside sweatin.  I couldn't sleep no more ex-
   cept on brother's arm, and had to sit up straight in
   that back sofa and drop my head over most un-
   comfortable, and his poor shoulder was so hot.
   Busdriver man say "Baltimore next stop," but run
   off to do somethin else instead and don't come
   back fthe longest time.  Well, I wished we was
   back on that NIGHT bus in the WILDERNESS.
   Babies was cryin all up and down the bus, and felt
   jess as bad as I did I guess.  I look out the window
   and all I see is the wall on one side, and the wall
   th'other side, and the sun beat down on the roof,
   and whew! it was so daggone hot I was sickish.  I
   say to myself "Why don't nobody open a window
   in here?" and I look around and ever'body's
   sweatin but don't make a move for the window.  I
   say to Slim "Less open a window or we's dead."
   And Slim pull and tug and rassle at that window,
   but can't bulge it one bit.  "Phew!" he say.  "Th'
   must be one of them modern air-conditioned buses.
   Phew!" Slim say "Less go, bus, and blow some air
   in here." And a man up front turn around and give
   us a look, then he try to open his window, and
   can't bulge it, and sweat and cuss over it.  Here
   come a big soldier-man and he reach out and give
   that window one big pull-up, and it don't bulge
   none.  So ever'body look straight ahead and go on
   sweatin.
     Well, you know that busdriver man come back
   and seed Slim pullin some more at that win ow,
   and he said "Please leave the windows alone, this
   happens to be an air-conditioned bus" and he turn
   on a button up front when he start the bus, and I
   tell you the finest cool air began to blow all over
   that bus, only thing is, ever'body got cold in a min-
   ute and the sweat turns on me like ice water.  So
   Slim, he tugged at that window again to get some
   hot air back in, but couldn't do it, and we look thu
   the window at them beautiful green fields, and
   Slim said they was MARYLAND, and wished he
   was settin in the sunny grass.  I reckon ever'body
   felt the same way too.
      Grandpa, travelin ain't the easiest and pleas-
   ingest thing in the world but you shore gets to see
   many innerestin things and don't go 'bout it back-
   wards neither.
      When we got to Philadelphia folks got out the
   bus and me and Slim got ourselves a new seat
   smackdab up front in the driver's window, and
   bought-up some ice-cold soda orange and ain't
   nothin better when you feel sickish.  Slim said "We
   can sit up front now because we crossed the
   Mason Dixie line," and I axed him what that was,
   and he said it was the line of the law for Jim Crow,
   and when I axed him who Jim Crow was, he said
   "That's you, boy."
      "I ain't no Jim Crow anyhow," I told him,
   "'case you know my name is Pictorial Jackson."
      "Oh," says Slim, "is that so?  Well, I never
   knowed that, uh-huh.  Looky-here Jim," he said,
   "don't you know about the law that says you can't
   sit in the front of the bus when the bus runs below
   the Mason Dixie line?"
      "What for yo-u call me Jim?"
      "Now Jim!" he says, and cluck-cluck at me sol-
   emn.  "You mean to tell me you don't know about
   that line?"
      "What line?" I say.  "I ain't seed no such a line."
      "What?" he say.  "Why, we just crossed it back
   there in Maryland.  Didn't you see Mason and
   Dixie holdin that line across the road?"
      "Well," I says, "did we run over it or underneath
   it?" and I'se tryin to recollect such a thing but jess
   cain't.  "Well," I say, "I guess I musta been sleepin
   then."
      And Slim laugh. and push my hair, and slap his
   knee.  "Jim, you kill me!"
     "What did that line look like?" I axed him, 'case
   I wasn't old enough to know it was a joke yet, you
   see.  Well, Slim said he didn't know what such a
   line looked like neither on account he never seed it
   any more than I did.
     "But there is such a line, only thing is, it ain't on
   the ground, and it ain't in the air neither, it's jess in
   the head of Mason and Dixie, 'ess like all other
   lines, border lines, state lines, parallel thirty-eight
   lines and iron Europe curtain lines is all jess 'mag-
   inary lines in people's heads and don't have nothin
   to do with the ground."
     Grandpa, Slim said that jess as quiet, and didn't
   call me Jim no more, and said to hisself "Yes sir,
   that's all it is."
     The busdriver man come back, and said "All
   aboard for NEW YORK" and like I tell you 'bout
   travelin and not goin backwards, we jess went for-
   wards.  Whoo!  Straight ahead was that New York
   road, and all the traffic of the cars cuttin in and
   out, zoom, zip, but that driver man Jess sit at that
   wheel 'thout movin a muscle and look right ahead
   and push his big machine straight on thu as fast as
   lie can go.  Anybody come out of a side street and
   see us comin, why they jess freeze right up and let
   us come by.  That bus man jess cleared the wav for
   hisself, he don't care.  The others don't care neither
   case the jess barely miss us and go zip thisaway
   and zip thataway after they miss.  I reckon his bus
   couldn't ever stop if somebody got dead in the way.
   and then you couldn't find their pieces if he did,
   and couldn't look for the pieces except in the next
   county.  Grandpa, you never seed such drivin and
   breezin along and ever'body so nonchalant about
   it, and so sure.  I tell you, I couldn't look.
     Slim, he was asleep again and this time his head
   dropped on my arm jess like mine done on his arm
   in Washington, and slept like that with his eyes
   closed right in front of the window and here's that
   bus man carryin him on thu all that road jess as
   faithful as you please.  Slim wasn't scairt none, nor
   flinched awake or asleep.  Well, I shore did love
   him a whole lot jess then, and said to myself, "Pic,
   you had no call bein scairt last night when he come
   and carried you thu the woods and told you not to
   worry.  Now, Pic, you gotsa grow up this minute for
   Slim.  You ain't no country boy now."
     So I look straight ahead thu the window, and
   there we go north to NEW YORK in that tremen-
   jous bus.


   9. FIRST NIGHT IN NEW YORK



   NOW I GOTSA TELL YOU 'BOUT EVER'THING hap-
   pened in New York and how it happened so fast I
   jess barely had time to see what New York was
   like.  You see, we come in I believe May 29th to
   stay and three days later we was all balled up and
   got to go on the road again, so you see how quick
   people has to live up in New York and how we
   was.
     When I seed New York was from that bus, and
   Slim poked me up from the seat and said "Here we
   are in New York" and I looked and the sun was
   red all over, I looked again, and rubbed my eyes to
   wake up, for grandpa, we was goin over a long big
   bridge at run over a whole sight of rooftops and all
   I has to do is took down to see the chillun runnin
   betwixt the houses below, Slim said it wasn't New
   York yet, jess the HOBOKEN SKYWAY he said,
   and pointed up ahead to show me New York.  Well
   I jess could barely see a whole heap of walls and
   lanky steeples way, way off yonder all cloudy in-
   side the smoke.  Then I looked all round, and
   grandpa, it was the most monstrous and tremen-
   jous stretch of rooftops and streets, and bridges
   and railroads, and boats and water, and great big
   things Slim said was gas tanks, and walls, and
   junkyards, and power lines, and in the middle of it
   set this old swamp 'at's got tall green grass and yal-
   ler oil in the water, and rusty rafts long the shore.
   It was a sight like I never dreamed to see.  And here
   come more of it where we turn the bridge, and
   ever'th'tng's so smoky and tremendous, and so laid-
   out far I can't watch at some least littlest point of it
   without I see some more heaped up yonder behind
   It in the fog and smoke.  Well grandpa, and that
   ain't all:-- I told you the sun was red, and that was
   Icase jess then the sun was peekin thu a big hole in
   the clouds up in Heaven, and was s'endin down
   great long sun-fingers ever'whichway from the
   hole, and it was all jess so rosy and purty like if n
   God come down thu the smoke to see the world.
   Well jess before I woked up I guess ever'body in
   New York done put on they lights, and I guess it
   was dark then, on account now all them lights they
   put on was caught feeble and strange in the red
   sunlight and everywhere I look was them po lights
   burnin up 'lectricity for nothin, deep inside the
   streets and the alleys, up on the walls, up on top
   the bridges, thisaway in the awful fog and thata-
   way on the soft rosv water, and they jess tremble
   and shake J'ess like ever'thing's a big old campfire
   folks done lit before sundown and didn't dass put
   it out yet, 'case they knowed it wasn't no real day
   for long.  Well, next thing you know, the sun turn
   purple and blue and leave j'ess one peel of fire on
   the cloudbank, and it gets almost dark.
     Slim say, "Ah me it's May again.  Wish't I could
   go someplace tonight," and I say "Ain't we goin no
   place?"
     And he say, "I mean someplace where all the
   boys and girls have their fun.  Ain't never seen nor
   found such a place all my born days.  It's what
   them boys is thinkin 'bout right now."
     "What bovs is that?" I say, and he point to New
   York and say "The boys in the J'allhouse tonight."
   Grandpa, I axed him last time if he was in the jail-
   house in New York and he said yes, he was busted
   one time but he didn't do nothin wrong, his friend
   did.  He said his friend was in that 'ailhouse still,
   and wasn't no better than him.
     Well, now I told you how fearsome and grand
   New York was when I first seed it, and that ain't
   all.  The bus come down into a tunnel and whoosh!
   it and ever'body else go barrelin along the walls,
   and it warn't dark in there but bright as you like
   and all lit-up jolly.  "Now we's under the Hudson
   River," brother say, "arrd wouldn't it be somethin
   if that river bust thu and come down on our
   heads?" I didn't dass guess 'bout that till we come
   out the other side, and when we did I plum forgot
   to guess, and I reckon most folks is like that, ain't
   they grandpa, till the day such a thing happen to
   them?  The bus come out that LINCOLN TUN-
   NEL it was called, and a great yaller light shine up
   the front of it, and ain't nobody but one man
   walkin on the street, and I look at him and he look
   at me too.  Well, I guess that man said to hisself
   "There's a little boy comin to New York for the
   first time and cain't do nothin but gawk at a man
   like me 'at's so busy in New York and got so many
   things to do."
     And here we was in New York, and it didn't
   look half grand now we was inside it on account
   you couldn't see far with all them walls risin clear
   up on every side.  Well you know, I look straight up
   oncet and I look again and don't see but the most
   p'culiar brown air in the sky above the tall walls,
   and I seed it was on account all the lights of New
   York paint-up the nighttime way high yonder, and
   do it so much it don't need no more'n a few feeble
   stars In it.  "Them's skyscrapers," Slim said when
   he seed me look up.  Well then the bus turn on a
   big street, Slim said it was Thirty Four street then I
   seed plenty far and a whole great gang of folks and
   grandpa it was j'ess so many lights strung out one
   after 'nother, and up. and down, and trembly
   along the walls, and red, and blue, and all the folks
   and the car traffic acting jess like ants as far as
   your eye can see.  Grandpa, all the folks you do see,
   and things they do, and all the streets you do see,
   and the places there is, and whilst you gotsa keep
   in mind all the folks and streets you don't see, at's
   round the corner and way yonder ever'whichaway,
   and up in the skyscrapers, and down in the subway
   ---well, you can see how t'ain't pos'ble to make a
   body unnerstand it lessen they done come and
   looked for theirselves.
     The biis stop, and me and Slim got off and went
   down the street to the subway, which is a tunnel
   train there underneath New York at ever'body
   takes to git where they's goin the fastenest best
   way.  "Bus is fast in the countrv but's too slowed-
   up in this town," Slim say.  We pay the man when
   we pav the gate-machine, and get on the train
   when the door-machine bring the door open, and
   get inside and set and let the train-machiiie run
   along the rail.  Wasn't nobody around to run the
   doggone thing 'case I looked up front and wasn't
   nobody steerin it.  And I knowed we went fast and I
   wasn't fooled by no dark.
     Brother and me got off at Hundred Twenty Five
   street in Harlem.
     "We's just around the corner from home, old-
   timer," Slim say to me, "so you see we made it
   after all." Well then we come upstairs on the street
   and it's all as jolly and brightly as Thirty Four
   street, and grandpa, here we was a hunnerd streets
   up along the city, so you can see how New York
   never gets to be near the country as you go along
   it.
     "Stand right still whilst I wash your face for
   Sheila," Slim said, and he stopt me on the street in
   front of the water-bubbler and rub off my mouth
   with his handkerchief and great big crowds of folks
   walks by and it's a nice warm night again and I
   shore feels glad we come to New York.  "Slim," I
   say, "I's shore glad I ain't at Aunt Gastonia's no
   more and won't be scairt neither no more." And I
   look down the street where we come from and say
   to myself, "No, North Carolina ain't round here
   no more."
      "Well thass the way to talk, soldier," Slim say,
   "and just because ever'thing's so fine I'm gonta
   buy Sheila a little thing in the store here so's we'll
   all have a fine time our first night home."
      And we go into a record store at's full of men
   fishin through the record racks and 'umpin up and
   down while they do so like they jess can't wait.
   Ain't nothin but music and noise in there, and a
   whole bunch of men out front'umpinjess the same
   way.  Whoo, what fun!  Slim, he went fishin and
   jumpin like ever'body else, and come up with a
   record, and yelled "Whee!  Look what I found!"
   and ran to the man and throwed him a dollar.
   Then we go around the corner to a street at wasn't
   so bright but j'ess as gay and full of folks in the
   dark, and run upstairs into a old crumbly hallway,
   and knock on the door and push it in.
      Well, there was Sheila, and I liked her jess as
   quick as I laid my eyes on her.  She was a slim
   purty gal 'at wore glasses with red hom rims, and a
   purty red sweater, and purty green skirt, and fine
   jigglets on her wrists, and when we come in she
   was standin at the stove makin coffee and readin
   the paper all at the same time, and looked at us
   s'prised.
     "Baby!" Slim yelled out, and run up and hugged
   her, and spun her round, and kissed her smack
   upon the mouth, and said "Looky yonder your
   new son, mother dear, ain't he somethin fine?"
     "Is that Pic?" she said, and come over and took
   both my hands, and lookt at me down in the eye.
   "I can see you've been havin lots of trouble lately
   haven't you, little boy," she said, and I don't know
   how she could tell that, but she did, and I tried to
   smile to show I liked for her to be so nice but I was
   jess a little too bashful.  "Well won't you smile
   sometime?" she said, and I had to go freeze there
   so foolish and said but jess "Uh-huh" and look
   away.  Doggone it!
     Then she said "Wasn't that chile cold comin up
   here in that little sweater full of holes?  And look at
   his socks, they're full of holes too.  Even his poor
   pants in the back here."
     "My hat too," I said, and showed her my hole-
   hat.
     Well, I caught her then and it was her 'at didn't
   know whether to laugh or look awful, and she got
   red and laughed.  I reckon, grandpa, it was because
   a boy like me ain't got no call talkin about himself
   when a lady's doin that for him, ain't it?  Well, she
   was the finest soul, and I knowed it jess then by the
   way she got red and didn't mind.
     Slim said "I'll buy him clothes first thing in the
   mornin," and Sheila said "How you gonna do that
   without money?" but he jess started that new rec-
   ord on the record machine in the corner and you
   shoulda seen him clap his hands and walk up and
   down with his feet right where he was, and shake
   his head and say "Oh where's my horn tonight?  Oh
   where's my horn tonight?" over and over, and look
   up and laugh,, 'case he likes the music so much,
   and say "Play that thing Slopjaw!" Grandpa, that
   record was by Slopjaw Jones done with a saxo-
   phone horn and everybody yellin and bangin the
   piano behind him, and you never heard such reck-
   less J'umpin and crashin in your ears out there in
   the country.  Seem like the folks up in the city
   wants to have fun and ain't got time for no worry
   exceptin when worry catches up with them, that's
   when they ain't busy about worryin.
     "What do you mean no money?" Slim said, and
   Sheila said, "I don't like to tell ou and Slopjaw,
   and everybody, and Pic here, but I went and lost
   my job day before yesterday because they're tearin
   down the building where the restaurant was down
   on Madison avenue and puttin up a new office                                   
   building."
     "Office building?" Slim yelled.  "Did you say
   office building?  What's they goin to do with a office
   building?  Ain't nobody get to eat in no office
   building."
     "You talk silly," Sheila said, and look at him
   sad.  "Why shoo, all they've got to do is go round
   the corner to eat in a restaurant."
     "Then they put up another office building there
   and then where do you go?" said Slim, and then
   heaved a sigh.  "Doggone it, what are we goin to do
   now?" He turned off the record, and looked round
   the kitchen, and began walkin up and down in it,
   and worried himself to death.  I seed then how Slim
   had worried before about a lots of things.  His face
   dragged down awesome and his eyes jess went
   starin straight ahead and his bones of his face
   stuck out from his cheeks and made him look old.
   Poor Slim, I never forget that look on his face
   when I think about him now.  "Dog-gone," he j'ess
   sav, over and over, "dog-gone." Then he look at
   Sheila and she didn't know it but his face flinch a
   little bit like if they was pain way down deep in his
   heart, and he come back to say "Dog-gone!" and
   be starin straight ahead after that, and for a long
   awesome time.  Lord, Lord, Slim always tried so
   hard to explain to me and ever'body else the things
   on his mind, like he done then.  "Dog-gone it, are
   we goin to be beat all the time or ever make a livin
   around here?  When will our troubles end?  I'm
   tired of bein poor.  My wife is tired of bein poor.  I
   guess the world is tired of bein poor, because I'm
   tired of bein poor.  Lord a mercy who's got some
   money?  I know I ain't got some money and that's
   for sure, now look" and show his empty pocket.
     "You shouldn't of bought that record," Shelia
   said.
     "Well," he said, "I didn't know then.  Now so
   where'd this money go that folks is supposed to
   live on?  I'd jess be satisfied if I had a field of my
   own I could jess grow things in and wouldn't need
   no money, and wouldn't worry it,hat folks had it.
   not records neither.  But I ain't got a field and I
   need money to eat.  Well where am I goin to get
   this money?  I gotsa get a job.  Yes, a job, gotsa get,
   I-got-a-git-a-job.  Sheila," he call out, "first thing in
   the mornin I am goin out and find me a job.  You
   know how I'm sure I can get one?  Because I need
   one.  You know why I need a job?  Because I ain't
   got no money." And he went on like that, and got
   hisself all 'volved in talk, and come round again to
   worry some more.  "Shelia, I shore hope I get a job
   tomorrow."
      "Well," Sheila said, "I'll have to look for one
   too."
      "It's so hard to get a   ob that you can't stick to
   all your life," Slim said.  "I wish I could get a job
   playin tenor in a club and make my livin that way,
   and express myself with that horn.  Show ever'body
   how I feel by the way I play, and make them see
   how happy I can be and ever'body can be.  Make
   them learn how to enjoy life and do good in life
   and unnerstand the world.  A whole lot of things.
   Play sometimes about God, by the way I can make
   my horn pray in the blues and get down on my
   knees to signify.  Play in such a way as to show
   ever'body how hard a man tries all the time, and
   make somebody learn that.  I want to be like a
   schoolteacher with that horn, or like a preacher,
   but show ever'body that jess a musician can do so
   simple a thing as take a horn in his hand, and blow
   in it, and finger the stops, yet be a preacher and a
   schoolteacher in the result of what he's doin.  I tear
   my heart out wherever I go.  All over this country
   I've been, and ain't been liked because I was col-
   ored, by people who don't mind their own personal
   business, and don't want me to do good, but I've
   tore my heart out with that horn.  That horn is the
   only way people come to listen to me.  They won't
   talk on the street, but they'll clap and yell hooray
   when I'm on the bandstand, and smile at me.  Well
   I smile back, I ain't cool about people, nor cool
   about nothin.  I like to respond and listen and be
   with people.  I feel good most of the time, and do it.
   Lord a Mercy, I sure wantsa live and have my
   place in the world like they call it and I'm ready to
   work if I can only work with my horn, because
   that's the wav I like to work and I don't know how
   to run a machine.  Well, I ain't learned yet anyway,
   and like my horn better, I do.  Ar-tist, I'm a ar-tist,
   jess like Mehoodi Lewin and the columnist in the
   paper and whoozit.  I got a million ideas and can
   shore pour them out of that horn, and I ain't doin
   so bad pourin them without the horn.  Sheila," he
   say to her, "less eat some supper and worry about
   everything tomorrow.  I'm hungry and want my
   strength back.  Throw some beans in there, and
   after supper make a lunch for tomorrow noon-
   time."
     "I'll have to make one for myself," Sheila said,
   and then they wondered what was to happen to me
   tomorrow, and Slim decided for me to go with him
   to look for work and we could eat the lunch to-
   gether.  "Make it a big one.  You got bread?  Throw
   somethin between that bread and that'll be fine.
   Wished we had a coffee mug.  You got a coffee
   mug?  Thermidor you say?  Well, thermidor it shall
   be, with the coffee hot.  Pic," he said to me, "you
   and me ain't even started travelin together is we?
   We just come four and fifty miles and here we go
   again.  Eat, then we go to sleep and get up early.
   Got a nice old sweater of mine for you tomorrow,
   and clean socks.  Well, we'll make it again.  Here we
   go. Ladies and gentlemen, look out.  Look out for
   your boy!" he shouted, and closed his eyes a min-
   ute, and stood like that.
      Well, that was the first night in New York, and
   shore 'joyed the supper, and us sittin round the
   table till ten at night, talkin and recollectin and
   Sheila told about when she was my age in Brook-
   lyn, and all such fine things went on of gabbin to-
   gether in the nighttime, and me lookin forward to
   what happen next ever'time I look out the window
   at New York.  I say to myself, "Pic, you left home
   and come into New York!"
     I had me a fine cot-bed to sleep on all night.
     But that next day wasn't so pleasin as this first
   night.


  10. HOW SLIM LOST TWO JOBS IN ONE OR

  I'LL NEVER FORGET THAT DAY because so many
  things happened all at oncet.  Started off, me and
  Slim got up jess as the sun come back red, and he
  cooked up some eggs and breakfast so's Sheila
  could sleep some more.  Grandpa, ain't nothin bet-
  ter in the world like eggs and breakfast in the
  mornin because your taster ain't worked all night
  and everything comes so chawy and smells so fryin
  good it makes a body wish he could eat ever-
  'body's breakfast all up and down the street seven
  times, ain't it the truth?  When we come down on
  the street and I seed all them men eatin more eggs
  and breakfast in the corner store I wished I could
  eat all the breakfasts in New York City.  It was a
  cool mornin and wasn't but six o'clock.  I had my
  new socks, and Slim's black sweater, and Sheila
  done sewed up the holes in my pants, and I was all
  set.  And you know the first thing happened?  We
  was standin in the doorway and Slim was readin
  the newspaper want ads, and it was mighty chill,
  and keen, and ever'body come by to get to the
  work-bus coughin and spittin and shore looked
  mis'ble from work in New York City, and some of
  them was readin the papers with the most gloomy
  disappointed look like ifn the papers complained
  jess what they hankered to see, and here come a
  man out of that crowd who knew Slim.  "Well there
  daddyo," he said, and showed Slim the palm of his
  hand, and Slim showed him his, and they touched
  up like that.  "Don't tell me you're lookin for a job
  again," the man said, and Slim told him he was
  shore enough.
     "Well, I declare, I got a job for you.  You know
  my brother Henry.  He ain't got up yet this mornin.
  I jess talked to him.  I say Henry, ain't you sup-
  posed to go to work in that cookie factory down on
  whatzit street?  And he hid under the pillow and
  says, yes I guess so, uh-huh, but don't move a
  bone.  I say Henry, ain't you gettin up?  Henry!  Well
  now Henry?  Hey, yoo-hoo, Henry?  That man just
  made up his mind to sleep, that's all," and Slim's
  friend walked off ten feet and come back again.
    "Do you think he'll be fired?" Slim axed him cu-
  rious, and the man said "Henry?  Will he be fired?"
  Dog my cats if he don't walk off again and come
  back.  "You mean Henry?" and he looked away,
  and shook his head, and felt too tired to do any-
  thina but hanc, his head.  "Shooee, he's got the
  world record for  that. He's been fired more times
  than he's been hired."
    "What's the address of this place?" Slim said,
  and the man knew it and gave it to us, and made
  another couple funny jokes and said "Lookout for
  the boogieman" when me and Slim took off for the
  job factory.  Well, he was all right.
    We took the subway, then walked down a street
  to the river and there was the cookie factory.  It
  was jess a great big old place with chimbleys and
  lots of machines thunderin inside, and gave out a
  mighty sweet smell that made us smile.  "Why this
  will be a good job," Slim said, "'cause it smells so
  good," and we 'umped up the steps and come in
  the office.  The boss was there by the punchin clock
  and was wonderin where was Henry, I guess.  We
  waited on a bench a half hour, then the boss said
  Slim had better start workin all right because no-
  body was never goin to show up.  Slim had to
  spend some time writin papers, so he told me to
  wait in the park across the street till noon and then
  come in for lunch with him.  And there he was
  straight into a job right off quick.
    "Sheila'll be happy," I said to myself, and
  knowed it.
    I waited all mornin in that park.  It was a tiny
  park with a iron rail and some bushes, and swings
  and such, and jess sat most of the time watchin at a
  couple other children, and figurin life.  I made
  friends with a little white boy who came into the
  park with his mother.  He was all fine lookin in a
  blue suit with gold buttons, and knee high stock-
  ins, and a red huntin hat.  He had a most admirable
  way of talkin and settin hisself on the bench.  His
  mother read a book on the other bench and smiled
  at us kindly.
    "And why are you waltin here?" he axed me,
  and I said "My brother works in that factory over
  yonder."
    He says "Why do you say over yonder, are you
  from Texas in the West?"
    "Texas in the West?" I said.  "No, I don't come
  from up there, I'm from North Carolina." "Are
  there any cowboys there?" he axed, and I lied and
  said there was, and we talk.  I liked that boy a
  whole lot.  We'd a talked more but he had to go
  home quick.  We was fixin to have a race but he
  left.  Why, he had the goldenest hair and the clear-
  est blue eyes, and I never seed him again.
    Well at noon I went up to the factory, and seed
  Slim by the window with a shovel.  All I had to do
  was sit on a barrel outside the window which was
  open, and watch Slim till it was time for us to eat.
    Well, he was workin so fast he didn't even see
  me, and when he did, all he had time to do was
  yell.  He bent over with the shovel, and dug into a
  truckload of fudge, and heaved it up on a belt that
  rolled around from wheels and carried the fudge
  clear down the other end of the factory.  Before it
  hit a big roller Slim flatted out the fudge with his
  hands, then it rolled under and got to be like a
  sheet of fudge, and then got pieced full of holes by
  a knife machine 'at jabbed down and made
  cookies.  Slim had to shovel up and then drop the
  shovel and hurry to use his hands, so's he never
  could stop one minute because the belt kept
  turnin.  One time he blew his nose and the man
  down the wav said "Send up some more of that
  chocolate," thass how fast ever'body worked and
  the rollers rolled.  The sweat jess fell from Slim's
  head and fell in the fudge, and he couldn't do
  nothin about it, had no time to dry himself.  Then a
  man rolled up another truckload of fudge, only
  this time it was vanilla and all white and purty, and
  Slim jess stuck that old chocolate shovel in there
  and hauled it up, all streaky.  When he spread the
  fudge with his hands he looked straight ahead and
  said "Phew!" because that was the only time he
  stoop up straight enough to talk to himself.  That
  shore was some hard job and I knowed it.
   Slim yelled to me "If I stop one second my arms
  are going to knot up round my neck from Charley
  Horse!" and 'umped back in the fudge.  One time
  he said "Ow!" and one time he said "Whee!" and
  another time I heard him say "Oh Lord a mercy,
  I'll never eat a cookie again."
   Twelve o'clock, a big whistle blew and all them
  machines slowed down and ever'body walked off.
  But Slim, he only leaned there on the post and
  wiped his head and looked at his hands.  Next thing
  you know, his right hand curled up and reached
  around for his wrist, and he said it was a cramp.
  Then half of his whole arm curled up like he was
  showin his muscles, but he wasn't, it was j'ess an-
  other cramp, and he pushed it back and forth and
  looked at it, and sighed, and cussed.
     Well, he came out and we ate the lunch on the
  office steps in the hot sun.  "I hope my arms are
  better for this afternoon," he said, and was glum
  and didn't say much more, even when I told him
  about the little boy I met.  Come about one o'clock
  that big whistle blew again and Slim went back to
  work.
     I watched again.  Well, you know, that poor man
  couldn't grip the shovel when he reached for it, his
  fingers was so stiff.  When he did close his fingers
  over it his arms began to shake and had no
  strength in them, and he couldn't hold the shovel
  at all.  The man down the fudge-belt yelled "Start
  up that vanilla will you?  We ain't got all day." Slim
  called out to the boss and showed him his arms.
  Both of them stood shakin their heads and thinkin
  about this, because it was sad, and Slim tried again
  to grip the shovel and couldn't do it, and the boss
  rubbed his arm some, but Slim jess couldn't con-
  trol his arms no more.  They were red, and hot, and
  hurt him.  Well, he wiped his hands with a rag, and
  they talked some, then by and by Slim came out
  the office door and joined me.
    "What happened?" I axed him.
    "I jess can't work any more today, my arms is
  tied in a knot." And that's all he said, and we went
  home with one mornin's pay in a envelope, $3.50.
    Sheila came home at five o'clock, and hadn't
  found a job.  Slim told her what happened and we
  ate supper most silent.
    Well, it was the first time I seen Slim gloomy.
    "Well I'll tell you," he said after supper, and jess
  soaked his hands in the hot water, "I don't like
  them kind of jobs like I had today.  I can't shovel
  fast enough to keep with no rollin belt like that and
  I used to be a prizefighter too.  I don't like to sink
  my hands in no whole tub of fudge.  Do you make
  your own cookies, gal, or buy it?  Shoo, what's I
  goin to do with a thirty-five-dollar paycheck any-
  how when the groceries theirselves cost about
  twenty, and the rent's took up the rest.  I can't be
  shovelin that doggone stuff up and down myself
  just so's ever'body can't pay extra bills and can't
  buy a hat, and my arms get so tired they hang like
  a broken branch in the tree.  I don't want to com-
  plain all the time, but shucks almighty no matter
  how much I love the world and get my kicks every
  live-long day, and I think Pic here loves the world
  and gets his innocent joys every day, and you love
  the world and feel fine in the mornin, it jess ain't
  the same when there's no dough and the house is
  black with money debts.  It's like a closet you have
  to sit in, doggone it, 'stead of a house."
     "Well, you're just tired today," said Sheila, and
  she kissed him on the ear and gave him a fine purty
   'delook, and trotted off to make coffee on the
  stove.  I reckon Sheila loved Slim like she was his
  slave.  He didn't have to do anything but sit there,
  and Sheila loved him fine, and watched him, and
  never passed him in the house without she touched
  him and sometimes winked at him.
     Well, it was mostwise a glum evenin, like you
  can see, but somethin else happened jess then.
     A tall man all well dressed and smilin come in
  the door, and whoopeed:- "Slim you old tadpole,"
  and ever'body began laughin and forgot their
  troubles for then.  "You know why I'm here, man?"
  said the man, his name was Charley, and Slim lit
  up bright and said "You mean?"
     "Yes, thass right, a job, and not only that I got a
  horn for you."
     "A horn?  A horn?  My kingdom for a horn!  Less
  go!" and we all went downstairs to the street.
  Some other man was in the car that had the horn
  in it, and Slim took the horn out the case and
  blooped in it a little bit, right on the sidewalk, and
  felt jess grand.  "Where we blow?" he said, and
  Charley said it was at the Pink Cat Club.  "Do I
  have to wear a suit?" Charley said he shore did
  have to because the boss man at the Pink Cat was
  jess complete persnickety about such things and
  wouldn't pay Slim no five dollars if he didn't like
  him.
    "Well hoe-down!  Here we go for five dollars
  Sheila baby," Slim said, and ran upstairs as fast as
  he could run to put on his suit.  Sheila hurried and
  put on a nice dress, and brushed me up some, and
  here we was all goin to the Pink Cat Club together
  not five minutes after Slim had sat so glum and
  sad.  Grandpa, life ain't happy, and then it's happy,
  and goes on like that till you die, and you don't
  know why, and can't ask nobody but God, and He
  don't say nothin, do He?  Grandpa, Slim and Sheila
  was so fine that night I knowed God was on their
  side jess then, and I thanked Him.  Ain't I right,
  grandpa, to pray when I feel grateful and glad like,
  I did then?  Well, that's what I done.
    The man zipped that car, and ever'body was
  glad, and it started rainin but nobody paid it mind,
  and we got to the club real early and set parked in
  front of it a minute whilst Slim and the men had
  theirselves a smoke and talked.  We was still in
  Harlem about thirty streets up along the way, and
  it still looked likejess where we lived.  The rain got
  on the street and made the purtiest manner of red
  and green lights, jess like a Arabian Nights and
  made rainbows.  It was a fine rainy night for Slim
  to start workin inside that club in, and for me and
  Sheila to hear him.  Well we shore had fun in that
  car.  Slim took out the horn again and went
  "BAWP" with it to try out the lowliest note and
  then tried a run up and down,the middle notes,
  and finished up with a little high "BEEP" and
  ever'body laughed.  "Ouch my fingers," Slim said.
  Those two fellows was fine fellows, Charley and
  th'other man, 'case they shore admired Slim and
  watched.
    "Only thing, Slim," Charley said, "that suit of
  yours is a little beat." Slim's suit was his onliest
  suit, and it was a old blue coat with the whitebelly
  insides showin out under the arms, and there was a
  rip in the pants he didn't have time to sew up.
  Charley said "I know it's the only suit but this Pink
  Cat joint is s'posed to be a cocktail lounge, you
  know, nobody's satisfied anymore with a regular
  old saloon."
    "Well," Slim laughed, and didn't care, "less go
  play some music."
    And we all went in the Pink Cat Club suit or no
  suit, on time or early or what-all, you know.  Well,
  it was early.  The boss wasn't there yet.  The band-
  stand wasn't lit up.  Folks was drinkin at the bar
  and playin the big jukebox machine and talkin low.
    Slim ran up the bandstand, and clicked on the
  light.  "Come on Charley, let's have some piano."
  Charley allowed it was too early and hung back
  shy, but Slim allowed no such thing and dragged
  him up there.  Charley said the other boys in the
  band wasn't here yet but it made no difference to
  Slim.  The other man that was with us, he was the
  drummer, and didn't say nothin, but just sat down
  behind Slim and knocked the drum and chewed
  his gum.  Well, when Charley seen this he decided
  to sit down at the piano and play the music too.
     Sheila bought me a Coca-Cola and made me sit
  down in the corner by myself to watch.  She stood
  up right in front of Slim whilst he played his first
  number and didn't ever move from there till he
  was finished, and he played the whole first song to
  her.  He blew in the horn, and moved his poor
  fingers, and I tell you grandpa he made the purtiest
  deepdown horn-sound like when you hear a big
  New York City boat way out in the river at night,
  or like a train, only he made it sing up and down
  melodious.  He made the sound all trembly and
  sad, and blew so hard his neck shaked all over and
  the vein popped in his brow, as he carried along
  the song in front of the piano, and the other man
  swisht the drum with the broom brushes soft and
  breezy.  And on they went.  Slim never took his eye
  away from Sheila till the middle of the song, then
  he remembered me and looked across the room
  and pointed the horn at me and play extra purty to
  show me how good he could play even though his
  hands was hurt and he couldn't work in that old
  cookie factory.  Then he turned the horn back to
  Sheila and finished the song with his head way
  down on the mouthpiece and the horn against his
  shoe, and stood like that bowed.
     Well you know, ever'body at that bar clapped,
  and was excited too, and one man said "You
  blowed that one, son," and I could see they liked
  Slim better and shut down that jukebox by all
  means.
     Sheila come over and sat with me, and there we
  was, right by the window and could see the purty
  lights out on the wet street, and see the whole bar
  and all the folks in front of us, and the bandstand
  perfect.  Now Slim beat down his feet real fast and
  the drummer man walloped one, and off they went
  and jumped.  Whoo!  Slim jess grabbed that horn
  and hoisted it up and blew with all his might and
  moved his head from side to side with his jaws
  workin hard and fast like workin with his hands
  that day.  When I seen that I realized how strong
  Slim was all over, and made of iroii.
     Ever'body at the bar 'umped when they heard
  him.
     "Yes, yes, yes, yes," yelled that man at the bar
  and grabbed his hat and hung on to it and stepped
  up and down in front of ever'body jazzy.  He shore
  could make his feets go, that gen'l'man.  Well, he
  was dancin to Slim.
     Slim, he was walkin up and down where he was
  and jess carryin along that jump-song goin as fast,
  well, like that bus I was tellin you about earlier.  He
  was pushin the horn to go ever' old way zippin
  here and zoopin there, he then all drawed-out him-
  self on one breath way high up, and threw it way
  down "BAWP" and back again in the middle, and
  the drummer-man looked up from his crashing
  sticks and yelled "Go Slim!" jess like that.  Charley,
  he was poundin on the piano with all his fingers
  spread, blam, jess when Slim is catchin his breath,
  and blam again when Slim comes back.  Grandpa,
  Slim had more breath than ten men and could go
  on all night like that.  Wow, I never heard anything
  like it, and anybody makin some noise and music
  by himself.  Sheila, she jess sat there grinnin at her
  old Slim and knocked her hands together under
  the table to the beat of the drum.  Well, I done the
  same thing.  I shore wished I could dance right
  then.
    "Go, go, go!" yelled that man with the hat and
  flipped himself back and pawed at the air with his
  arms and said "Great-day-in-the-mornin!" jess as
  loud as a big old fog-horn 'bove the noise.  Whee,
  he was funny.
    Well now Slim was startin to sweat because no-
  body wanted to stop, and he didn't wantsa stop
  neither and blew right on in that horn till the sweat
  begun pourin down his facejess like it did over the
  shovel in the mornin.  Oh, he jess watered that
  bandstand from sweat.  He didn't ever run out of
  anything to play ever'time he crossed from one end
  of the song to th'other, and had a hunnerd years in
  him of it.  Oh, he was grand.  That song lasted
  twenty minutes and the folks at that bar got out in
  front of the bandstand and clapped in time for
  Slim in one great bigj'umpin gang.  I couldjess see
  Slim over their heads with his face all black and
  wet and like he was cryin and laughin all at the
  same time, only his eyes was closed and he didn't
  see them but jess plain knew they was there.  He
  was holdin, and pushin that horn in front of him
  like it was his life he was rasslin with, and jess as
  solemn about it, and unhappy.  And ever' now and
  then he made it laugh too, and ever'body laughed
  along with it.  Oh, he talked and talked with that
  thing and told his story all over again, to me, to
  Sheila and ever'body.  He jess had it in his heart
  what ever'body wanted in their hearts and they lis-
  tened to him for some of it.  That crowd rocked
  under him, it was like the waves and he looked like
  a man makin a storm in that ocean with his horn.
  One time he let out a big horselaugh with his horn,
  and hung on to it when ever'body yelled to hear
  more, and made all kinds of designs with it till it
  didn't sound like a horselaugh no more but a
  mule's heehaw.  Well, they axed him to hold that
  but he moved on to a high, long drawed-out whis-
  tle that sounded like a dog whistle and pierced into
  my ears, but after awhile it didn't pierce no more
  but jess was there like everything was made
  dizzy like Slim felt from holdin that long note.  It
  made you sympathize before he jumped on down
  back to reg'lar notes and made ever'body jump
  and laugh again.
    A bunch of new folks come in and Slim seen
  them and decided to end the song there.
    It wasn't time to play yet anyhow.  He wiped
  himself with a towel from the kitchen and we all
  sat down together in the corner, with Charley and
  the drummer-man.  A man come over from the bar
  and axed Slim if he ever played with a big band.
  "Ain't I seen you with Lionel Hampton or Cootie
  Williams or somebody?" Slim said no, and the
  man said: "You ought to be with a big band and
  start makin yourself some money.  You don't want
  to play for peanuts in a place like this all your life,
  with a taped-up horn.  Go down see an agent."
    "Agent?" Slim said.  "Is that who you see to
  work with a band?" Slim was s'prised and didn't
  know any of these things.
    Another man come by, and laughed, and shook
  Slim's hand, and walked back to the bar, jess like
  that without talkin.
    This was how they liked Slim, and what a real
  fine musician he was.
    Well, here come the boss walkin in at nine
  o'clock, and the rest of the band is with him, in-
  cludin the leader, who was Charley's older brother,
  and they all get ready to go on the bandstand.  But
  that big sharped-up boss man seen Slim's tear
  under his coat and said, "Haven't you got a better
  suit than that?  No?  Can't you borrow one from
  one of these boys?" Ever'body looked at ever'body
  else, and talked about it, and come to figure there
  wasn't but one suit they could loan him, only it
  was down in Baltimore.  Well, Baltimore is a long
  ways off, and the boss had to admit it when he
  thought about it, but he jess didn't seem to like the
  idea of Slim in that poor awful suit.  He hedged and
  hawed about it, and began shakin his head after
  awhile, and I began to see Slim's chance to make
  five dollars was all ready to go wrong.  Slim seen
  that, and argued with the boss.  He said "It don't
  make no difference, nobody'll see me, looky here
  I'll hold my arms down" and showed him.
    "Well," said that boss, "I know but I'm havin a
  big holiday crowd tonight and it'll be pretty ioney
  as it gets in the later hours, and it just wouldn't
  look good, don't you see.  It's just not, ah, hem, the
  thing." And if you ask me, grandpa, I'd say he
  wanted to save that five dollars anyhow.  One of
  the boys in the band was sick and Slim was only
  takin his place, and the boss figured he didn't need
  nothin or nobody, and didn't.
    So out we went, Slim, Sheila and me, to go
  home, and walked it this time, in the rain.  And you
  know the first thing Slim said?:- "I didn't really
  get goin on that horn tonight," and that was what
  he was worried about.  Sheila didn't say nothin, but
  jess held Slim's arm and marched along with him,
  and enjoyed the walk, and seemed gay.
    Well, Slim asked her what she was so gay about,
  and she told him.  You know how poor they was,
  and the money worries they had that very day, and
  the rent comin up in a day or two like Slim said.
  And you know how Slim was always talkin about
  Californy, and seemed to hint to Sheila about her
  comin there with him.  I didn't tell you. but he
  come from Californy to marry her before he come
  to get me, and was out there most of the time since
  he left North Carolina in his boyhood.  Well, Sheila
  took all that and wrapped it up in one package for
  Slim, like a Christmas present, and said "Let's use
  that hundred dollars in my girdle and go to Cali-
  fornia.  I'll tell mv mother we have to do it and
  can't help it.  We'll stay at my sister's house in San
  Francisco to start with.  Then we can get jobs, there
  as well as here I guess.  What do you think"'
    "Baby," laughed Slim and hugged her, "that's
  just what I want to do."
    And that's how we come to decide to go to
  Californy, on that day Slim lost two jobs.


  11. PACKING FOR CALIFORNY

  WE SPENT TWO WHOLE DAYS PACKIN.  Sheila's
  mother lived right around the corner and come to
  visit us three, four times to argue with Sheila about
  goin to Californy cold like that.  Seems Sheila's
  family lived in New York so long, with such long
  jobs, they didn't believe in traipsin around the
  country like that, and once tried to stop Sheila's
  sister from goin to Californy, that was Zelda, the
  one we was goin to live with out there.  But Slim
  said, "New York people are always afraid to move
  from where they are.  Californy is the place to be,
  not New York.  Didn't you ever hear that song Cal-
  iforny Here I Come, Open Up That Golden Gate?
  All that sun, and all that land, and all that fruit,
  and cheap wine, and crazy people, it don't scare
  you so much when you can't get a job because
  then you can always live some way if you even just
  eat the grapes that fall off the wine trucks on the
  road.  You can't pick no grapes off the ground in
  New York, nor walnuts either."
    "Now who's talkin about eatin grapes and wal-
  nuts?" yelled Shella's mother.  "I'm talkin about a
  roof over your head." She was a woman of some
  level sense.
    "You don't need one in Californy because it's
  never cold," said Slim, and laughed in his head
  gleeful.  "Oh, you ain't never seen such nice sunny
  days when you don't need a coat most the year
  round, and don't have to buy coal to heat your
  house, or get overshoes or nothin.  And you never
  die of the heat in the summer up north in Frisco
  and Oakland and thereabouts.  I tell you, that's the
  place to go.  Ain't nowhere else to go in the United
  States and it's the last place on the map-after it,
  ain't nothin but water and Russia."
    "And what's wrong with New York?" Sheila's
  mother snapped up.
    "Oh, nothin!" Slim pointed out the window.
  "Atlantic Ocean is got the Devil for the wind in the
  wintertime, and the Devil's son carries it down the
  streets so's a man can freeze to death in a doorway.
  God brought the sun over Manhattan Island, but
  the Devil's cousin won't let it in your window un-
  less you get yourself a penthouse a mile high and
  you don't dass step out of it for a breath of air for
  fear you'll fall that mile, if you could afford a pent-
  house.  You can go to work, but probabiv wind up
  haven two hours left to yourself after a eight-hour
  day made into twelve hours by subway, bus, ele-
  vated, tube. ferry, escalator, and elevator and
  waltin in between, it's so big and hopeless town.
  Ain't nothin wrong with New York, nope.  Go
  around the coi-ner to see your friend after supper,
  see if he's there or ten miles downtown wishin he
  could see you try to have a ensemble evenin when
  your pockets are empty, like any country bov. and
  the man'll look for a black-jack in your pants."
    That's how he talked about things.
    "Future of the United States was always goin to
  Californv, and always bouncin back from it, and
  always will be."
    "Well don't come bouncin back on me if you go
  broke out there," said Shelia's mother and said it
  to Shelia.
    "We're broke as it is," Sheila said, and that
  woman her mother shore didn't like any of it.
    Well, I didn't tell you about the money, but
  there wasn't enough for all three of us to go by bus.
  Sheila was goin to have her first baby before six
  months so she had to take sixty dollars of the hun-
  nerd and go by bus and eat good.  Me and Slim, we
  had the forty dollars and some more him and
  Sheila still had, and because rent was due in two
  days we was movin out, and sendin clothes and
  dishes in two big old suitcases and a smaller one,
  by railroad, and then me and Slim, with that $48,
  was hitchhikin to the Coast right away, and eat
  good too but be on the bum with our thumbs and
  sleep in beds only part of the time, mostly In cars
  and trucks and parks in the afternoon.
     It shore sounded good and fine to me.  But I
  didn't know then how far that Californy Coast was.
     The last night everything was packed and ready
  to go in the mornin and we had coffee in the
  kitchen and house looked so bare Slim seemed
  most gloomy about it.  "Look at this place we've
  been livin in.  We leave it, someone else comes in,
  and life is J'ess a dream.  Don't it remind you of old
  cold cruel world to look at it?  Those floors and
  bare walls.  Seemed we never lived here, and I
  never loved you inside of it."
     "We'll make ourselves a new home in Califor-
  ny," said Sheila, gladly.
     "What I want is a permanent home and spend
  our lives in one neighborhood, up on a hill till I get
  old and grandpa."
     "We'll see," said Sheila, "and pretty soon Pic'll
  have a little brother in Californy."
     "First we've got to go three thousand and two
  hundred miles," sighed Slim, and I remembered
  that later. "Three thousand and two hundred
  miles," he said, "over a plain, a desert and three
  mountain chains and any and all the rain that feels
  like fallin down.  Praise the Lord." Well, we went to
  bed and slept the last night in, that house, and sold
  the beds in the mornin.  "Now we're out in the
  cold," Slim said, and he was right.  In the afternoon
  we left the house dead empty except for a old bot-
  tle of milk, and my North Carolina socks too.
    Sheila had her suitcase, and me and Slim had
  one suitcase with all our things in it.  Off we went,
  to the bus station, and bought Sheila's ticket and
  waited around for her time to go.
    By the time her bus was ready we all felt terrible
  sad and scared.  "There I go into the night," Sheila
  said when she saw that bus that said CHICAGO
  on it.  "I'm goin and I'll never probably come back
  again.  It's 'ess like dyin to go to Californy-but
  here I come." Grandpa, I ain't forgot that minute.
    "It'll be more like livin when you get there,"
  Slim laughed, and Sheila said she hoped so.  "Don't
  let no boys mess with you on that bus," Slim said,
  "because you're plumb alone till Pic and me get
  there, which I don't know when."
    "I'll be waitin for you, Slim," and Sheila begun
  cryin.  Well, Slim didn't cry but he looked it when
  he hugged her.  Poor girl-she shore seemed pitiful
  that night, and I shore loved her plenty, jess like
  Slim said I would on that first night in the woods.
  Jess a young mother, and don't know what'll hap-
  pen to her on the other side of the country, and all
  that nighttime alone in front of her till Slim and I
  got there.  Jess like the Bible said, A fugitive and a
  vagabond shalt thou be in the earth, only she was a
  girl.  I reached out and touched her cheek, and told
  her wait for us in Californy.
    "You be extra careful with yourselves hitch-
  hikin," she said.  "Still seems to me Pic is too little
  for such hard travelin, well, and I don't feel right
  about it."
    But Slim said I'd be safe and sound with him, as
  much as he could be by himself, and if he couldn't
  make it nobody could.  This's how Slim felt, and
  was sure, and watched over us.  So him and Sheila
  kissed, and then she kissed me so soft and sweet,
  and in the bus she goes.
    "Goodbye Sheila," I said, and waved, and felt
  more so terrible lonesome and scairt than when
  she cried, and goodbye, goodbye ever'body else
  was sayin to ever'body else round the bus, and
  grandpa that's how sad it is to travel and roam,
  and try to live and go about things, I reckon till the
  day you die.
    So Sheila went, and was gone, and now me and
  Slim had to catch up with her hitchhikin over that
  land.
    We walked from the bus station to a big lit-up
  street called Times Square, and Slim said we was
  goin out the way we come in, at the Lincoln Tun-
  nel, and hoped that old hole would point us to the
  West and nowhere else when we shot out of it.
  "First we'll have our Hot Dog Number One on
  Times Square," he said.
    That's what we done, and grandpa I'll never for-
  get that night of Hot Dog Number One on Times
  Square, jess about an hour it took us to eat it, be-
  fore we hit that road.


  12. TIMES SQUARE AND THE MYSTERY OF TELEVISION

  THERE WAS A WHOLE LOT OF MEN STANDIN on the
  corner of Eighth Avenue and Forty Second in
  front of a big gray bank that was closed for the
  night.  In the middle of the road it was all tore up
  from constructin work, and cars bumped by over
  the rocky sand along the sidewalk.  It was a cold
  night for spring, felt more like autumn weather,
  and a whole lot of papers blowed by in the wind
  and the lights shined ever'whichside and flashed in
  that wind like so many eyes twinklin.  It was jolly,
  and people had to be a wee bit frisky to keep
  warm, so they jumped about.  Me and Slim bought
  the hot dogs and spread some mustard on em, and
  strolled over to the corner to see what was goin on
  while they cooled a minute.
    Lord, there was a couple two, three hunnerd
  men on one side of the street.  Most of them was
  listenin to the speeches of the Salvation Army.
  Four Salvations took turns makin speeches, and
  while one was speakin the other three jess stood
  there like ever'body else lookin up and down the
  street to see what else was goin on.  Here come a
  tall white-haired man of ninety years old clompin
  thu the crowd with a pack on his back, and when
  he seen ever'body listenin to the speeches he raised
  his right hand and said "Go moan for man" as clear
  and loud as a foghorn in the wind, and clomped
  right on by like he hadn't a minute to stop awhile.
  "Where you goin Pop?" a man said in the crowd,
  and the old man yelled it back over his head--
  "California my boy"-and he was gone around
  the corner with that white hair flowin.
    "Well," said Slim, "he's not lyin and that's the
  tunnel he's headed for."
    Then here come a loud siren motorcycle, and
  then another, and a third, all screechin together
  and escortin the way thu the traffic fo a big black
  limousine with a spotlight on it.  All the men on the
  corner stooped down to see who was in that car.
  Me and Slim coulda reached out and touched it
  and made it a sign, it was so close.  The limousine
  slowed in the sand, and started again, and a man
  in the crowd yelled "Look out for that Arkansas
  clay" and some of the men laughed because here it
  was New York clay and not much of it.  Well,
  wasn't nobody inside the limousine except two,
  three men with hats on, you know.
    Then, grandpa, the word come floatin by in the
  heaven and I was so scairt, I'd never seen no such
  thing in all my born days like a word floatin by in
  the heaven, but Slim said it was jess a old balloon
  with a electric sign on it nudgin down close to
  Times Square for ever'body to see.  Well, a couple
  folks looked up and didn't look s'prised, and I
  knowed these New Yorkers was ready and used to
  everything.  It was a purty balloon, and hovered
  around the longest time, and had to fight with the
  wind, but tacked and rassled right up there for
  Times Square. Not so many folks was lookin at it,
  a shame, bein such a purty balloon like that.  Well,
  my cousins back in Carolina would appreciate it
  shore a lot.  I know I did.  It turned its nose into the
  wind, and wobbled, and jess floated back like a
  breeze and turned its nose around again and had
  to buck on back.  It was best when it missed and
  ballooned.  I couldn't hear what the poor thing
  sounded like there was so much fuss below.
    A number of things like this was goin on, and
  those Salvation Army speechers howled right
  itiong in the noise and roar.  The Lord this and the
  Lord that is all they kept sayin, and I don't remem-
  ber exactly, except about burning in the fires of re-
  pentance and them talkin to ever'body like they
  was sinners.  Well, maybe ever'body do be sinners
  but it ain't innerestin on the street corner to hear it
  challenged, 'case there ain't nobody likely to step
  up and confess all his sins in front of the police-
  man that's always teeter'n on his heels right there.
  What's I goin to explain to the police-man about
  the fire I started in Mr. Otis' cornfield that cost
  him twenty dollars of feed and nobody ever
  knowed it was me.  Well, no New York man that
  lives right there is goin to step up and tell how he
  threw his cigarette away and burned down the hos-
  pital in his block, and any such thing.  Besides of
  which, why don't the speechers go into detail
  about their own sins they keep repentin and folks
  could work from there and judge.  But it grew in-
  nerestin when a new man stepped up on the other
  side of the corner and started a speech of his own.
  He had a much louder voice and drew a bigger
  crowd.  And it was the shabbiest crowd drew about
  him.  He was jess a ordinary lookin man in a black
  hat, with shiny eyes.
    "Ladies and gentlemen of the world, I have
  come to tell you about the mystery of television.
  Television is a great big long arm of light that
  reaches clear into your front parlor, and even in
  the middle of the night when there ain't no shows
  going on that light is on, though the studio is dark.
  Study this light.  It will hurt you at first, and bom-
  bard your eyes with a hundred trillion electronic
  particles of itself, but after awhile you won't mind
  it no more.  Why?" he yelled way up loud and Slim
  said "Yes!" The man said, "Because while electric-
  ity was light to see by, this is the light comes not to
  see by, but to see-not to read by, but to read.  This
  is the light that you feel It is the first time in the
  world that light has been gathered up from the
  sources of light and shot through a tube in a way
  that it can be watched and studied instead of
  blinked at.  And it has taken the shape of men and
  women who are real flesh and blood at the studio
  but come streaming into your parlor in light with
  all their sounds shot in sidetrack.  What does this
  mean, ladies and gentlemen?"
     Well, nobody knowed that, and waited, and
  Slim said "Go, man!" and to hear it.
     "It means that man has discovered light and is
  fiddling with it for the first time, and has released
  concentrated shots of it into everyone's house, and
  nobody yet knows what the effect will be on the
  mind and soul of people, except that now there is a
  general feeling of nervousness among some, and
  sore eyes, and twitching of nerves, and a suspicion
  That because it has come at the same time as the
  A T O M there may be an unholy alliance betwixt
  one and the other, and both are bad and injurious
  and leading to the end of the world, though some
  optimists claim it is the opposite of the atom and
  many relax the nerves the atoms undid.  Nobody
  knows!" he moaned way out loud, and looked at
  ever'body frank.  Well, ever'body was innerested
  and paid no attention to the speeches about repent-
  ance, and Slim agreed, most amazed.
    "And ladies and gentlemen," he said, "it is the
  old-time Depression traveling salesman that used
  to put his foot in your door and now has got a leg
  in your parlor, except he looks so doggone strange
  in light you just can't believe his transformation.
  And don't think he ain't more nervous than the
  Depression days Jiggling behind all that light and
  looking out into the unknown America.  Yes ladies
  and gentlemen and I seen a salesman on television
  last night who put on a mask for fun and yet his
  eyes looked awfully scared peeking from behind
  that mask at a million other better-hidden eyes.
  What does this mean?" he demanded, and ever-
  'body was ready to kneel to find out, so to speak,
  and Slim yelled "Go!" and socked his hands to-
  gether.
    "The day shall come when one giant brain shall
  televize the Second Coming in light and everyone
  in the world shall see it in their brains by means of
  a brain-television that Christ Himself shall cause
  to be switched on In a miracle and no one shall be
  spared from knowing the Truth, and everyone
  shall be saved forever, and men and women of the
  world I warn you, live as best as you can and be
  hereinafter kind to one another and that is all there
  is to do now.  We all know this." And off he trots
  jess as calm as you please, and Slim looked after
  him with the most satisfied and glad look and
  clapped his hands, so that a whole bunch of others
  clapped their hands too, and the speecher vanished
  in glory.  Grandpa, it was as strange as that.
    Then the Salvation Army man howled out at us
  "Don't you realize the Lord is coming?" and j'ess
  then a loud screechin and crashin come down the
  street flamin red lights ever'whichway and I
  ducked, it was the fire engines barrelin to a fire
  with a whole bunch of firemen hangin on to their
  hats most solemn and displeased, and goin a hun-
  nerd miles a hour.  Whoo! that roused us, and Slim
  sidd "Whee!" and ever'body shore looked amazed
  and innerested then everything got back to normal
  and people slouched around bored like always.
    Well, it was time to go, and Slim said, "We'll
  come back to Times Square sometime, but now we
  gotsa go across that night, like the old man with
  the white hair, and keep goin till we get on the
  other side of this big, bulgin United States of
  America and all the raw land on it, before we be
  safe and sound by the Pacific Sea to set down and
  thank the Lord.  Are you ready Pic?" he said, and I
  said "Yes," and off we go.


  13. THE GHOST OF THE SUSQUEHANNA

  IT WAS EIGHT O'CLOCK when we went and stood in
  front of the Lincoln Tunnel in all that yaller light,
  and it started mistin jess a little, enough to worry
  me and Slim even before we was begun on the
  road.  But for the first time since that time, we got a
  ride inside a minute; seemed like the man at the
  wheel come around the corner sayin "pleased to
  meet you" before we could even show our thumbs.
  He lit up with a smile and throwed open the door.
  It was a big gigantic yaller truck that said
  PENSCO on it, with a tractor-cab in front a good
  twelve feet high, and the biggest tires in the world,
  and hauled a trailer you couldn't see over of with-
  out backin up across the street.  A mighty gigantic
  thing, that Slim had to throw me up to get in, and
  the man cotch me like a football.  When I sat up
  there it felt like bein in a tree, it was so grand and
  high.  Slim jumped after, and hauled in that suit-
  case that had all our clothes, and here we go.
    "Going someplace with your kid brother?" the
  driver said.  "It don't do for him to get caught in
  the rain," and with that he kicked down, and
  grabbed two clutches, and socked everything
  around and pumped his feet like an organ-player,
  and boom! that big truck started to roll and growl,
  and bowled down into the tunnel like a mountain.
  It was a white man drivin it.  His name was Nori-
  dews.  And he made that tunnel shake and rever-
  berate from there to New Jersey.
    Not only that he didn't say another word till we
  got to Pennsylvania hours later, and all Slim and
  me had to do was sit and enjoy the way he throwed
  that gigantic machine down the highway. lie was
  ever so much stronger than a poor bus, and that is
  ik heap of strength.  People in the other cars seemed
  to quake and wobble when we come by spit-boom
  eatin up everything in sight.  Only time he stopped
  was on a hill, and only stopped passin people then,
  didn't stop rollin at all.  He had the mightiest
  brakes in the world to stop that trailer bumpin us
  down the back at ever' red light, and had to kick
  for his life on the brakes they handled such power-
  ful stops and was so supple.  Then the trailer
  bucked to a stop, like a mule, and edged along like
  it couldn't wait too long at no red light, and the
  driver told it to hold fast but it edged along no
  lesser.  "She's got to go," he said.
    Well, the mist was rainin in New Jersey, and
  grandpa, the first thing Slim and I seen was that
  old white man with the silver hair flowin around
  his head, walkin along in the highway in all that
  yaller light with the rain blowin over him like the
  smoke.  Oh, he looked pitiful and grand all at the
  same time for an old man.  Slim said, "He got a
  poor short ride from New York." We looked at
  him when we boomed by, and seen his face stuck
  out in the rain and him deep in thought of some-
  thin like it never rained and like he wasn't any-
  where but in his room, you know.  "What's he goin
  to do?" Slim said, and "Oh that wonderful gentle-
  man he puts me in the mind of Jesus, trackin along
  like that in this dismal world.  I bet he don't pay no
  taxes,, neither, and his toothbrush was lost in Hoo-
  ver's Army.  Ah," he said, "ever'body's bound to
  make it at the same time if he ever makes it." The
  old man had the bluest eyes, I seen that when we
  rolled by.  Seen him later, tell you when some day.
    We rolled through all the crowded streets of
  New Jersey, and got on the road, and come to a
  sign that said "South" with an arrow pointin flat to
  the left, and "'West" with an arrow pointin straight
  down, and stayed right on the straight arrow down
  into the West.  It got dark, and countrylike, and
  pretty soon there was hills.
    It took some hours to get to Pennsylvania where
  the man was drivin to, and about five to get to
  Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where he lived.  I slept
  some of the way.  It kept right on rainin.  Inside the
  cab was warm and comfortable, and a good start it
  was for me and Slim.  He said he wasn't far behind
  Sheila after all.
    At Harrisburg at midnight the man said he
  could save time by droppin us off outside town at a
  junction and pointed to it when we passed, and it
  was a lonely rainy junction that made me gulp it
  was so dark, but he said he would take us in any-
  how to make sure we connected right for Pitts-
  burgh and points west, and added he knowed an-
  other short cut downtown.  That was good for us,
  that short cut.  Harrisburg was all lit up in halos in
  the rain and looked quiet and gloomy.  There was
  big gray bridges, and the Susquehanna river below
  them, and the main street in town where ever'body
  was waitin for buses at midnight.
    Me and Slim jumped out of the tractor-cab at
  the red light, and the man repeated his instructions
  over whilst Slim thanked him gladly, and then
  back we was on foot, goin slant across town for the
  other highway with hopes on high.  "That was a
  good ride," Slim said, "and I wouldn't of got one
  like it alone.  Ever'body'll sympathize with you
  bein so little and we'll make time to the Coast.  Pic,
  you're my goodluck chile.  Come along with me
  you old daddyo."
    The houses in Harrisburg is extremely old, and
  come from the time of George Washington, Slim
  said.  They's all old brick in one part of town, and
  have crooked chimbleys and ancient shapes but
  look all neat.  Slim said the town was so old be-
  cause it was on a great old river.  "Ain't you ever
  heard of the Susquehanna, and Daniel Boone and
  Benjamin Franklin and the French and Italian
  wars?  In those times ever'body was here, and come
  from New York where we was, with pushcarts and
  oxes over the hills that truck groaned on, in rain
  and high weather, and suffered and died jess to
  reach it here.  It was the beginnin of the big long
  push to California and now you remember how
  long it took us to get here by truck then figure it by
  ox, and then tell me about it when we get to San
  Francisco-about the ox.  I'll ask you about it
  when we go over the sink in Nevady.  In Nevady
  they's a sink that took down a whole ocean and's
  been dry ever since, and takes a month to measure
  the edges of it.  Ain't nobody wash their teeth over
  that sink.  You ain't seen nothin yet, boy."
     Well, we was still in Susquehanna and hungry
  enough to be in Nevady, so Slim said we'd have
  Hot Dog Number Two and Hot Dog Number
  Three and maybe Four.  We went to a diner and
  ate them, and had a side dish of beans with kat-
  chup, and coffee both of us.  Slim said I had to
  learn to drink coffee to keep warm on the road.  He
  counted his money, said we had $46.80 left, and
  dug down in the suitcase to put on more clothes in
  case it rained bigger.  He said he hoped we got a
  ride soon so's I could sleep, and wished I could
  wake up in Pittsburgh and then we'd move right on
  'stead of sleepin.  "Up ahead the sun is shinin in Il-
  linois and Missouri, I know it," he said.
     By and by we hit the night again, and Slim
  brought along two packs of cigarettes that left us
  $46.40, and we walked to the outskirts of town.
  Folks looked at us curious and wondered what we.
  was doin.  Well, that's life.  A man's got to live and
  get there, Slim always said about that.  "Life is a
  sneeze, life is a breeze," he said.  Along come a car
  with a man goin home from work and Slim didn't
  care, he threw out his thumb and whistled 'most
  shrill through his teeth, and when he seen the man
  wouldn't stop, why he stuck his leg and pulled up
  the pants and said "Have pity on a poor young girl
  of the road." Tickled me the way he fooled around
  everywhere he went.
     It was cold, and it was raw, but we felt real fine
  jess like we was home.  Ever' now and then I got to
  worryin about findin a bed and home in Californy,
  and worried about Sheila, and worried about get-
  tin tireder than I was, and damper, in a darker
  place than this, but Slim made me forget it the way
  he went along.  "It's the only way to live," Slim
  said, "jess don't die.  Whoopee, sometimes I feel
  like dyin but now I wantsa wait the longest time.
  Bein that you bring it in some more, Lord, I ain't
  afraid of a few cold toes so long's my whole foot
  don't crack.  Lord, you didn't give me any money
  but you gave me the right to complain.  Whoo!
  Complain so long on the left hand, the other
  hand'Il fall off.  Well, I've got my baby, I'll hold on
  jess a while longer, and see what Californy looks
  like now, and look around inside myself, and bet.  I
  can't do no more than kick, Lord, kick this way,
  kick that way, and then I kick it proper.  Look out
  for you boy, Lord." Slim was always talkin to God
  like that.  We got to know each other fine and could
  talk to ourselves anytime, the other one only lis-
  tened.  I'd say "Tick, tack, toe!" countin my foot-
  steps and Slim would say "There you go!" jess as
  absent-minded and thinkin about somethin else.  It
  was the randest fun, and good.
     Someday grandpa I'll make a whole lot of
  money for you and me, but I'll enjoy it like Slim
  enjoyed it without no money, and make sure to be
  a happy man.
     We crossed over the town, and pretty soon there
  we was on the highway and there was the Susque-
  hanna River runnin right with us, most solemn and
  black and not makin a sound for miles.
     And here come a man with a little tiny suitcase
  hurryin along most jaunty from the shore, and
  seen us, and waved, and said "Walk a little faster if
  you want to keep up with me, for I'm goin to
  CANADY and I don't aim to waste time." Well,
  he wasn't even caught up with us and talked like
  that, but soon enough he passed us.  "Can't lag,
  son, can't lag," he said, and was lookin back.  Me
  and Slim hurried on after him quick.
    "Where you headed?" Slim said, and the man-
  he was jess a little old man, white, and poor-said
  "Why, I'm gonna get me a HIBALL up the river
  here soon's I cross the bridge.  Member of the Vet-
  erans of Foreign Wars and the American Legion.
  Red Cross in this town wouldn't give me a dime.
  Tried to sleep in the rallyards last night and they
  Put a spotlight on me.  Told them 'You'll never see
  me in this town again,' walked away.  Had a good
  breakfast last week, Martinsburg, West Virginia,
  pancakes, syrup, ham, toast, two glasses milk and a
  haif, and a Mars candy bar.  Always like to load up
  for the winter like a squirrel.  Had grits and brains
  in Hl'ppensburg two weeks now, and wasn't hungry
  for three days."
    "You mean Harrisburg?"
    "Hippensburg, son, Hippensburg, Pennsylvania.
  I've got to meet my pardner in Canady by month's
  end so I can go into a uranium deal.  Know upstate
  New York!" he said wavin his fist most deter-
  mined.  He was a funny old man, was short and
  thin, all weazled up his face that had such a long
  horny nose, and looked so shrunk and wan under
  his hat I wouldn't recognize if I seen him again.
  "Walk fast," he yelled to usn's behind, "knew a
  boy three years ago on this road 'ess the same as
  you.  Lazy!  Slow!  Don't lag!" We followed him
  and had to hustle some.
     We walked about two mile.
     "Where we goin?" Slim said.
     "Know what I had me in Harrisburg last night?
  One fine meal I tell you, in any diner in the world.
  Had candied pig's feet, yams, with peas, peanut
  butter sandwich and two cups tea and Jelto with
  fruits in it.  Old Veteran of Foreign Wars cook be-
  hind the counter.  On the twelfth of this month had
  me a cold shower followed by hot, in the Cameo
  Hotel, won't tell you where, desk clerk was Jim,
  Veteran of Foreign Wars, I caught a cold and
  sneezed myself all over."
     "You sure keep movin along, Pop," said Slim.
     "Old silver-haired man with a pack an hour ago
  couldn't even keep up with me.  All set for Canady,
  I am.  Got things in this bag.  Got a nice new neck-
  tie, too." His bag was a poor little tore-up piece of
  cardboard and was held together by a big belt tied
  around it.  He kept fiddlin at the belt.  "Wait a see-
  ont while I take out that tie," he said, and we all
  stopped in front of a empty gas station and he
  kneeled down to undo the belt.
     I sat down and caught back the rest in my legs,
  and watched.  That man was so funny, that was
  why Slim was followin him and talkin to him so.
  Slim 'ess went along trailin what innerested him,
  you know, and couldn't say no to any old man like
  that.
    "Now where can that tie be?" said the old man,'
  and fiddle-faddled around in his busted satchel the
  longest time, and scratched his haid.  "Now don't
  tell me I left it in Martinsburg.  I packed two dozen
  cough drops that morning and remember the tie
  was stuck up alongside.  No it wasn't Martinsburg
  at all, at all, at all, now where was it?  Harrisburg?
  Ah shoot, this old tie will do till I get to Ogdens-
  burg, New York State," and off we went again
  walkin.  He didn't have no such a tie'
    Grandpa don't believe it if you will, but we
  walked SIX more miles along that river with that
  old man, and somethin was supposed to be around
  the bend ever' time, but there never was anything.
  I never walked so much and minded -it so little, he
  talked so crazy.  "I have all my papers," he kept
  sayin, and told us what he done in ever' town for
  the past month to eat, how he showed his criden-
  tials at places, and what the meal was, and how
  much sugar he put in his coffee and crackers in his
  soup.  It made me and Slim hungry to hear him.
  He's so small, and loved food so large.  And
  walked, and walked.
    Well, that somethin never showed up and we
  had walked clear into the wilderness where the
  road lit in only the longest spaces.
    Slim stopped cold, and said "Say, you must
  be . . ." but didn't wanta say "crazy" and just
  said "You must be . . . Pop, me and my brother
  better turn back."
    "Back?  No back about this part of the country-
  Heh heh.  I just misjudged you boys like I
  misjudged that young man three years ago, that's
  all I done.  I'm ready to go on if you ain't."
    "Well, we can't walk all night," Slim said.
    "Go ahead, give up, I'm all set to walk to
  Canady and straight on through New York City if
  that's how the chips fall."
    "New York City?" Slim yelled.  "Did I hear you
  say!  Ain't this the road west to Pittsburgh?"
    Slim stopped, but the man hurried right along.
  "Say, did you hear me?" Slim yelled.  That old man
  heard him all right but didn't care.  "Keep walk-
  ing," I say, "maybe I'll be in Canady, maybe I
  won't.  Can't wait around all night." And he kept
  talkin, and walkin, till all we could see was his
  shadow fadin in the dark and gone like a ghost.
    "Well," Slim said, "it was a ghost." And he wor-
  ried himself to death standin there with me in
  those fearful river woods, at midnight, tryin to
  figure where we was and how we got lost.  All I
  could hear now was the pat of rain on a million
  leaves, and the chug-chug across the river, and my
  own heart beatin in all that open air.  Lord, it's
  somethin.
    "Why'd I go follow that crazy man!" Slim said,
  and seemed lonesome, and looked for me, and
  reached some.  "Pic, you there?"
    "Slim, I'm scairt," I said.
    "Well don't be scairt, we'll walk back to town
  and get back to those lights and folks can see us.
  Whoo!  "
    "Slim, who was that man?" I asked him, and he
  said, "Shoo, that was some kinda ghost of the
  river. he's been lookin for Canady in Virginia,
  West Virginia, West Pennsylvania, North New
  York, New York City, East Arthuritis and South
  Pottzawattomy for the last eighty years as far as I
  can figure, and on foot, too.  He'll never find the
  Canady and he'll never get to Canady because he's
  goin the wrong way all the time."
    So grandpa the next three cars swished by, and
  the fourth one stopped for us, and we ran for it.
  Was big solemn white man in a beach-wagon
  truck.  "Yes," he said, "this is the road west to
  Pittsburgh but you better go back to town for a
  ride."
    "That old man is goin to walk west all night, and
  he wants to get to the North to Canady," said Slim,
  and it was the God-awfullest truth, and we was
  talkin about that Ghost of the Susquehanna for the
  next three months I tell you when we got to Sheila
  in San Francisco.


  14.  NOW WE FINALLY GOT TO CALIFORNY

  I'M GOIN TELL YOU IT WAS A LONG TRIP, grandpa.
  That man rode us back to Harrisburg in the rain.
  He told us how to take a left and then a right and
  then left and then right and go down to a lunch
  wagon where he said they made very good sweet
  yams and pigs' feet and also seven-inch-long hot
  dogs with Picadilly Circus on it.  Me and Slim went
  in there and sat down in the eatin part of the res-
  trant, th'other side was a spittoon place with a big
  bunch of men argufyin about how they was Jin-
  dians.
     "Don't tell me that, you're no Indian!"
     "Oh I ain't, ain't I?-I'm a Pottzawattomy from
  Canady and my mother was pure-bred Cherokee."
    "If you're a Pottzawattomy from Canady and
  your mother was pure-bredded Cherokee I'm
  James Roosevelt Turner."
     "Well turn around, son, and I'll give you the
  biggest whompin you ever got." And then there
  was the sound of glasses breakin, and fights, and
  hollerin, and women yowlin, and this woman came
  over to the table where me and Slim was eatin and
  sat down with us with a nice smile and said "May I
  join you?" just as a big flock of police-men came in
  out of a squad car.  The woman, girl actelly, said to
  Slim:
     "May I sit?"
     And she smiled but Slim he was afeared of the
  police-men and never smiled back at her smile, be-
  sides Slim is married to Sheila, but the woman sat
  there actin as though she was at the same table
  with us and no one of the police-men offered up to
  bother her.  Slim didn't say no, and he didn't say
  yes.  The police-men took away the skeedaddlin
  Jindians and everything was peaceful again.
     Me and Slim ate up all our money on candy
  yams and pigs' knucklets feets and seven-inch-long
  hot dogs and Slim didn't pay no intention which-
  however to the woman.  It was a barnyard.  But you
  know, grandpa, a whole lot of black men have Jin-
  than blood, as I discovered up when I saw all those
  Jindians in Nebraskar, Ioway and Nevady, not to
  mention Oakland.
     But now we were pretty well filled up with food-
  supper and ready to roam on in the rainin, only
  now it was slower now, pizzlin, and Slim said:
    "Now next step is to get to Pittsburgh down this
  Route 22."
    It was early mornin sunrisin and an au-to went
  by and squashed a blue-color bird under the rollin
  wheel.
    It made me sickish to hear the squeak of it.  I
  wished there was a better place.  I felt missilated.
  A plumber gave us a ride to Huntingdon, then a
  light-bulb man gave us a ride to Holidaysburg,
  then a man called Biddy Blair gave us a ride to
  Blairsville, then we wound up in Corapolis with a
  countryfolk truck driver whose son had jess had a
  hernia belly.  It was awful all them stories you
  heard.  But I had a feelin in my chest that ever-
  'body was doin their best, I guess.
    Now it was about seben o'clock in the mornin
  and Slim bought some Sin-Sins to put sugar in our
  mouth.  He was rare worried he'd never get to
  Sheila.  He didn't not ever tell me how long it was
  to Oakland for fear I'd get scairt.  I told him I
  didn't know there was so many white people in the
  world, comin as I done from North Carolina coun-
  tryfolks.
    He said: "Yep."
    Then he said: "I wonder if Mr. Otis sent out the
  cops after me for kidnapin you.  Well, he won't find
  us now. fiere's stoppin a car with two men in it."
    They was goin eighty miles a hour or somethin
  like that but they stopped, squeak.  We got in the
  back.  They said:
    "Where you goin?-Shoot, we Montana-bound,
  you got money?"
    Slim said "Not much so."
    So they said "We'll drop you off at Pittsburgh."
  It was rainin, grandpa, when we got to Pittsburgh.
  Me and Slim went inta the railroad station, to get
  out of the rainin.  Two men in blue choo-choo mas-
  ter suits told us to get out.  So we pulled up our col-
  lars and draddled on down the street, we saw a
  church, with a cross on top on it.  Slim said:
    "Let's go in there and dry up some.  Don't
  reckon they'll throw us out of there."
    It was chilly-like but there was a runnin heat
  comin from the furnace in the bottom down-be-
  lows, and a man upstairs was playin the big organ
  piano, Slim said it was the Have-a-Maria, and then
  a fellow come by with a lighted stick and went
  rush-up lightin candles at the front part, "The Hal-
  ter," said Slim (said it laughin), and outside it was
  rainin cats and dogs.
    Grandpa, when I heared that music I shushed
  Slim, and I said:
    "Can I sing?"
    "Slim wants to know if you know the tune?" said
  Slim.
    "Well I'll jess hum."
    Slim said: "Here comes the big man in the black
  coat."

  By this time I was already hummin.
    The big man in the black coat said "You have a
  beautiful voice, what's your name?"
    "Pictorial Review Jackson of North Carolina."
    "And who's he?"
    "My brother John Jackson."
    The priest axed "Do you know how to dust
  pews?"
    Slim says "I just worked in a cookie factory and
  I'd rather dust pews."
    "Do you know how to mop floors in the base-
  ment?  Two Army cots beside the furnace, hundred
  dollars a month, fifty each, free food, no rent."
    Slim says "Tsa deal, we are goin all the way to
  Californy to join up with my wife."
    "What's your wife's name?"
    "Sheila Jackson, born Joyner, North Carolina."
    "I am Father John McGillicuddy."
    Slim sez "Ain't you the guy that managed the
  Philadelphia Phillies?"
    "No, that was Cornelius McGillicuddy, some
  distant cousin . . . Philadelphia Athletics . . . I
  am Father John McGillicuddy, Society of Jesus,
  Jesuit Order.  Now little Jackson Picture you want
  to go up sing in the choir?  What's your favorite
  tune?"
    Grandpa I told him Our Father Which Art in
  Heaven, coulda made Lulu cry to hear me sing like
  that in her porch.
    So Father McGillicuddy took me up to the attic
  LOFT, and sat me by the man with his hands on
  the keys of the ORGAN.  Grandpa, I even whistled
  and I wished I had my harmonica, and the priest
  man sang up and said I sung up like an angel.
     By the by, Slim was present down at the cellar
  moppin up the floor, he said he sure wisht he had
  his horn, but said he found a horn in his little
  brother's voice.
     So we told Father McGillicuddy soon's we
  pick up one hunnerd dollars pay we would fetch
  for Oakland on the Greyhound Bus, but Father
  McGillicuddy said it was comin up close to Sun-
  day mornin, as it was Adventist or adventurous
  night now, and Saturday too, and wanted me to
  sing before the intire congregation the Lord's
  Prayer, which I done. up in the LOFT, like best I
  could.  Father McGillicuddy was s'tickled he was
  sunrise all over.  Them Irish mans is so tickled
  they's pink as a shoat all over, but I feasable say
  they got troubles of their own, so we had our hun-
  nerd dollars and took the road bus with the picture
  of the blue hound dog on the side of it, Greyhound
  it's called, and we peewetted across Ohia and clear
  inta Nebraskar, Slim was asleep in the back seat all
  alone stretched out legs all over, and I was sittin in
  a reg'lar seat near-up with a ninety-year-old white
  man, and when we come to a stop just before
  Kearney, Nebraskar, the old man said to me:
     "I gotta go to the toilet."
     So I led him out of the bus holdin his hand, 'case
  he was about to fall in the snow, and ask the gas
  man where was the men's room.  Finished, I took
  the old man back in the bus, and the bus driver
  yelled out:
    "Somebody's drinkin around here!"
    And the bus driver was wearin black gloves.
  Two men was in the front seat next to him holdin
  hands together.
    Slim was still snorin on the back-seat bed.  Then
  he got up said to me:
    "Hi, baby."
    First thing you know, no more snow.  Heard an-
  other old man behind me say "I'm goin back to
  Oroville and bank my dust."
    We then was now in the Sacramenty Valley,
  grandpa, and quick we saw Sheila's ropelines with
  wash on hooks of'wood hung dryin, flappety-flap.
    Slim, he put his two hands on his back, limpled
  around the yard, and said, "I got Arthur-itis, Bus-
  itis, Road-itis, Pic-itis and ever' other It-is in the
  world."
    And Sheila run up, kissed him hungarianly, and
  we went in eat the steak she saved up for us, with
  mashy  potatoes, pole beans, and cherry banana
  spoon ice cream split.




	ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JACK KEROUAC was born in 1922 in Lowell, Massa-
  chusetts, and died in 1969 in St. Petersburg, Flor-
  ida.  He grew up in Lowell, and later attended Co-
  lumbia in New York.  Leaving school, he sailed
  with the merchant marine to various Atlantic and
  Mediterranean ports, and roamed over much of
  the United States.  His first book, The Town and the
  City, was published in 1950.  Unable to find a pub-
  lisher for On the Road, he spent the next six years
  "writing whatever came into my head, hopping
  freights, hitchhiking, and working as a railroad
  brakeman, deckhand and scullion on merchant
  ships, government fire lookout, and hundreds of
  assorted jobs." On the Road was finally published
  in I957  and brought him immediate fame. His
  other books were published in rapid succession
  and translated into eighteen languages.  He is right-
  fully considered as the authentic voice of the "beat
  generation" in American literature.  His other
  books include The Sublerraneans, Visions of Neal,
  Doctor Sax, Lonesome Traveler, The Dharma Bums,
  Mexico City Blues, Visions of Gerard, Desolation
  Angels, and Satori in Paris.  Pic is his last novel.