764 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
She stopped talking and lapsed into aggrieved silence. Alec didn't speak
for a while, but something she had said had amused him.
"Wastin' a boy?"
Queen knew she had won.
"if schooling's a waste of time, that-s what it would be."
Alec was tickled pink by the idea of "wasting" a son, and surely he could
afford it. He owned a hundred acres of good bottomland now, and two other
small farms, of five acres each, one of which he rented to George.
"Wastin' a boy," he chuckled again.
Queen nodded, but was sly, and didn't let him see her smile.
"Ain't too many men in the district can afford to do that."
They sat in silence again, and puffed on their pipes and rocked on their
chairs, and then Alec delivered his ultimatum.
"But I ain't payin' fo' all the books he'll need," he announced. "Those
books cost me a fortune."
They rocked together.
"Uh-huh," said Queen.
Inside the house, Simon, who had been listening through the open window,
did a little silent sock hop of joy.
He got work to pay for his books. He did odd jobs at the Cherry mansion. He
was a delivery boy for the general merchant, he tended gardens, he chopped
wood in the winter and sold lemonade in the summer. Queen thought that he
did all this with his nose in a book at the same time, for his grades were
excellent, and even Alec was impressed by Simon's industry. He took great
pride in telling his friends on the ferry that he was "wasting" a son,
until a few of them, thinking he must be wealthy, started asking him for
small loans.
On a warm Saturday in late spring, Queen was alone in the shack, and decided
it needed a thorough cleaning. Alec was running the ferry; Conway and
Freeland were working the land. Simon was selling homemade lemonade,
somewhere down the road. She dragged the rugs outside, threw them over the
line, and as she beat them, she plotted what she would say to Alec when she
had to persuade him that Simon should go on past eighth grade, for she,
Simon, and his teacher were determined that he should.
A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 765
She saw Simon coming up the path and was surprised.
"You sold all that lemonade already?" she asked him. He didn't reply. His
expression was forlorn, and he had a bloody handkerchief to his nose;
She dragged the truth out of him, although he was reluctant, for it was
his own battle. Some boys, bigger than he, poor white trash, had offered
to buy his lemonade, drunkit, and then refused to pay. There was a fight,
and Simon got the worst of it.
A spark of fire exploded in Queen's mind. She dragged him, unwillingly,
to the poor-white part of town, and found one of the boys who had beaten
up Simon. She demanded payment for the lemonade, but he jeered at her,
told her she was a nigger fool, and it had nothing to do with him.
So Queen hit him, slapped his face hard. The boy yelled and called for
his pa, but it was his ma who came out to deal with the crazy nigger
woman who was hitting white boys. Others gathered to watch the fun, and
Queen, who was becoming hysterical, stood her ground and demanded payment
for the lemonade. A sheriff arrived and tried to make the peace, but
Queen would have none of it. To try to shut her up, the sheriff threw
some coins at her from his own pocket, but she smashed them to the
ground.
"I don't want yo' charity," she cried. "I want what's rightfully mine.
You think I'm some po' nigger you can beat up on and cheat and lie to?"
She hoicked up her skirts, to show her leg.
"I is white, you hear me? Whiter than most of you!" She pointed at the
bystanders, who were amused by her, or angered by her. The fires raged
in her head, and she danced across the border of insanity, into the
country of the mad. She raved at them, a long, rambling speech of her
grievances, but she kept coming back to her central point.
"I don't want yo' damn white charity. All I want is what's mine! What is
due to me!"
Suddenly, she stopped, her body rigid. It was as though suddenly she had
stepped outside of herself, and saw what was happening to her.
"For God's sake, give her the money," the sheriff said to the boy's
mother in the silence that followed. "The woman's mad. "
766 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
Simon, who had been ashamed of his mother's behavior, and concerned for
her, sprang to her defense.
"She ain't mad!" he shouted at the sheriff. "She just suffered, is all. We
don't want your money. We got money."
He turned to his mother and took her gently by the hand. "Come on, Ma," he
said gently. "Let's go home."
He led her away, and the crowd parted for them in silence, although he
heard at least one snicker about damn crazy niggers.
Queen stared at the empty fireplace. The flames in her mind were quiet
again, and had been replaced by an awful fear. Alec sat with her, holding
her hand, trying to bring her back from whatever awful place she had gone
to.
"I'm here," he said, again and again. "Ain't nuttin' fo' you to be afraid
of. I'll always be here."
She shivered. "I so scared," she whimpered.
Alec would have given everything he owned to know what it was that
frightened her so, but he had to give nothing, because she told him.
"I scared of me," she whispered.
Perhaps that is why he protested only mildly when Queen told him that Simon
wanted to continue his education. Or perhaps he had seen it coming. Or
perhaps he was just getting old.
"Nigger boy goin' to high school," he scoffed. "I ain't never heard the
like."
Simon had been accepted by Lane Institute, in Jackson, sixty miles away.
Queen was so proud of him. "If that's your final words on the subject-" she
began, but he was ready for her.
"That's my final word!" He didn't give her a chance to finish, but it
wasn't the last of it.
They sucked their pipes.
"He cain't go," Alec roared, infuriated by the silence.
"Uh-huh," Queen said.
Simon would go. He had to go. It had become her dearest dream. They had
been slaves, and now they were free, but in many ways they still thought
like slaves. They had done well with their lives, but they still accepted
a subsidiary place in society, and that was how it would always be, unless
they
A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 767
changed their thinking. But, oh, there was more, there had to be more. The
words of Davis rang in her ears, like a clarion call. They had to start
taking what they could get, not simply accepting what they thought they
were allowed to have. She wouldn't do it in her life, and Alec wouldn't
do it; they were old now, but the young, they could do it, if they were
given the chance, and the key to that chance was education. She thought
of Cap'n Jack, and his dreams. To live in freedom was not just a basic
/> right, it was also a precious gift that should be appreciated and
nurtured. It had been denied them for so long that not to take every
possible advantage of it was immoral.
But she knew her man. It was not fair to push him, who was so generous,
further than he could go.
"Uh-huh," she said again.
Alec wished she would argue at least, so that he could lose his temper,
and then it would all be over. Perhaps. But she wouldn't even discuss it.
"Uh-huh- was all she would say to any argument he put forward.
"Dadgummit," he muttered.
Simon was on tenterhooks about Alec's decision, but Queen had no good
news for him. He turned his face to the wall.
11 'Tain't fair, Mammy," he said. "I can do it. I know I can."
He was filled with self-pity, but there was something more to his
distress, for he had a young man's dreams, a young man's zeal, and a
young man's belief that he could change the world, and make life better
for his people. He watched his father's friends work the land, using the
old ways, the ways they had learned from their fathers, and their
fathers' fathers before them, resisting change, resisting new ideas. But
there were new ideas, and new ways to farm, and better ways to raise
crops and make the farms more productive. Black folk wouldn't do any of
these things unless the white folk did them first. Surely it was not
enough to take only what the white folk were prepared to give? They had
to start leaming for themselves, finding their own ideas, their own
solutions. And maybe one day, they would start teaching the white folk,
in return.
- 'Tain't fair," he said again.
"I know, boy, I know." Queen stroked his hair. "And it ain't over yet."
768 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
It took Alec a week to change his mind. He talked about it with some of his
friends on the ferryboat, and while none of them had ever heard of a nigger
boy going to high school, they were all impressed that Simon had the
chance.
He talked about it with his other children, with Minnie and Julie, who were
married and starting families of their own, and they thought he was being
an old stick-in-the-mud.
He talked about it with Freeland, who had hated school, but was right proud
of Simon, and thought he'd be useless on the farm anyway-his head was
always stuck in some book.
He talked about it with George, who thought it was a fantastic opportunity.
George had no leaming, but admired those who did.
He didn't talk about it with Mr. Cherry when they went fishing, because he
wasn't sure that Mr. Cherry would be on his side, but he couldn't get the
matter off his mind, and the fish weren't biting.
"Dadgummit," Alec muttered in frustration. "I must be gettin' old."
Mr. Cherry knew exactly what the matter was. Dora had seen to that.
"Yes, you are," he said. "Old and crotchety, and you've no idea what the
modem world is coming to. I feel the same way.
He bided his time, because he knew it was a momentous decision for Alec.
"Black boy going to high school," Mr. Cherry said. "I never heard the like.
It'll be college next."
The words struck home to Alec. He hadn't thought that far ahead, but it was
obvious once it was said.
"But then again," Mr. Cherry added, "if he can do itwhy not?"
Alec had no argument against that.
"Dadgummit," he said.
He called Simon to him, but would not let Queen be present. She sat outside
on her rocker, and heard every word through the open window.
Alec wasn't sure where to start. He adopted what he hoped was his most
commanding presence, and made a little speech
A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 769
about Simon being way past the age when he should be working, and he
wasn't working and he should be.
11 Yes, Pa," Simon said dutifully, with no idea where it was going.
"You'd pro'bly be useless on the farm anyway, with your head always stuck
in a book," Alec continued, finding his stride, and Simon dared to hope.
"But we gotta do somethin' with you, so I'm sendin' you to high school
whether you like it or whether you don't," Alec announced, as if it was
all his idea.
Simon closed his eyes, and breathed a silent prayer of thanks.
"Yes, Pa," he said, very carefully, anxious not to offend his father, in
case he changed his mind. "Thank you, Pa."
Alec grunted. It was done. For better or worse, it was done. He made a
fatherly speech about Simon being young and a long way from home, and not
to get into any trouble with girls.
Then he took fifty dollars from his pocket. It was the biggest sum of
money Simon had ever seen.
"Only the good Lord knows what this thing is gwine cost," Alec said, "an'
I ain't made of money. I'm giving you fifty dollars, an' that's it, there
ain't no more. You've got this durned scholarship thing, so I ain't
spendin' one cent more than this fifty dollars. Anythin' else you need,
you're gwine have to work for it. "
He put the money in a little purse and gave it to his son. Simon could
hardly contain his joy, and tears of gratitude sparkled in his eyes.
"I'll work hard, I promise, Pa," he swore.
Alec sent him out to tell his mother, and turned away. When he spoke to
the empty room, his voice was gruff.
"Most fool thing I ever did."
Queen was puffing on her pipe, rocking in her chair, when Simon came out
to her, a grin as big as Texas on his face.
"Oh, thank you, Ma!" he said.
"Nothing to do with me," she said. "I don't approve. You're too young to
be so far away from home."
Simon was puzzled. He had thought she would be pleased.
770 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
"Why should I be pleased?" Queen demanded, trying to blink away the tears.
"My little boy going off alone in the world, and only the good Lord knows
what evils are lurking out there to snare you."
But she lost the battle, and the tears ran.
"Of course I'm pleased; you think I'm touched in the head?" She held out
her arms to him, and he moved into her embrace. She clung to him for a
moment, then sent him on his way to tell his friends.
"And don't be late home," she warned, wiping her eyes with her hankie. "I
ain't got long with you."
"No, maam," he laughed, and ran off into the night. Just before he
disappeared into the shadows, he leaped high in the air, and let out a
great whoop of joy. Then he was gone, and there was silence.
Alec came out and sat in his rocker, beside his wife. They puffed on their
pipes and looked at the stars.
And there was silence.
Alec drove them in the buggy to the little train depot at Sarsparilla, seven
miles down the road. Simon was bursting with excitement and nervousness. He
was very smart in his freshly pressed suit, but Queen thought he looked far
too young to be setting off on such an adventure. There were several people
wai
ting for the train, and as it chugged toward the depot, the white flagman
waved it down. Simon had never seen a train before, and it thrilled him, and
gave him the sense that now, truly and at last, he was on his way.
He offered to shake Alec's hand, but to his surprise, his father embraced
and hugged him hard, and wished him well. Then Simon turned to his mother.
She straightened his collar and tidied his hair, and said little private
things of love to him, and then it was time to go. He pulled away, as
choked up as she.
He climbed into the packed Jim Crow car with the other blacks, and a
red-capped porter helped him aboard. He felt so grown-up, and proud, and he
felt a brief rush of anger that he could not sit in the other cars, with
the whites. But his transcending emotion was joy at his bright adventure,
and the great days of his future that lay ahead.
A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 771
Queen couldn't bear to see him sitting there with all those grown-ups,
and she almost changed her mind.
"He cain't, he's too young," she cried out, but the train whistle drowned
her voice, and only Alec heard her, and he put his arm around her.
The train began steaming away. Simon leaned out of the window to wave
farewell to his parents, and waved so much and leaned out so far that he
nearly fell out. His traveling companions pulled him back in, and laughed
at his happiness, for it was infectious.
The train chugged away, and Queen watched it go until it was lost to the
horizon, and only a column of smoke suggested where it had been.
They rode home in the buggy against a lowering sky, for rain was in the
air. They both felt a sense of loss, for this, the last of their
children, had left home, and now all they had was each other.
"You'll miss him," Alec said, knowing he would too.
"Uh-huh." Queen nodded. She reached out to her husband and took his hand,
in a simple gesture that might, she hoped, let him know how very much she
loved him, and appreciated him.
"Just have to make do with you, won't l?" she said.
90
He couldn't fail. It wasn't possible for him to fail. It wasn't fair of
God to let him fail.
Queen's hands were shaking. She was in the kitchen trying to prepare a
meal, using the simple domesticity to calm herself down, to come to terms
with the news about her boy.
For Simon was failing. He had scraped through Lane Institute by the skin
of his teeth. To a large extent, this was because of his financial
situation. In order to pay his way, he had taken a multitude of part-time
jobs. He waited tables in the student
772 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
dining room and helped at a home for wayward boys. He worked in a
greenhouse. In the winter he persuaded four white homeowners to pay him a
dollar a week each to come into their homes at dawn and build fires for
them, so that they might wake up to a warm house. He was almost permanently
tired and often fell asleep as he was eating his meals. He became the butt
of student jokes, although there was one girl, a pretty dark teenager,
Bertha Palmer, who was kind to him. Their friendship ripened and developed,
and was a blessing to Simon, for Bertha was a ray of sunlight on his
otherwise clouded horizon.
He had almost no time to study. His grades in English and agriculture were
good, but low in every other subject. At the end of twelfth grade, his
average was just good enough for him to transfer to A & T College in
Greensboro, North Carolina. There he had to reconstruct his exhausting work
schedule, and his studies suffered. He survived his freshman year, but in
his last sophomore semester the professor of a course for which he couldn't
afford the books told him he was going to fail him. It was almost a relief
to Simon, for he didn't have the energy left to fight. He had applied for
a summer job with the Pullman company as a porter, and when he received a
letter informing him that he had been accepted, he made his decision. He
would work on the train for the summer, save enough money to buy a mule and
plow, and go home to Savannah, his tail between his legs, to work the land.