Suddenly, through waves of applause and shouted requests for * about the Big Smith family, Hickman was surprised to hear Cliofus call out, “Hey, you! The big gentleman back there in the rear! Now that these words of mine have their nasty habits on, what would you like to hear?”
Surprised, and seeing customers turning to stare at him with expressions of amusement, Hickman hesitated.
“Go ahead, Ace,” a freckle-faced man said with a friendly nudge, “tell the man….”
“Oh, no,” Hickman said, “he doesn’t mean me….”
“The hell he don’t! You’re the biggest one back here, so he has to mean you. Tell the man, and he’ll give it to you.”
“Okay, so now we’ll see,” Hickman said as he called to Cliofus. “Was your question meant for me?”
“Yes, sir,” Cliofus called back—“that is, if you’re the one I think you are. Aren’t you in town to visit a certain lady?”
“Why yes,” Hickman said, “as a matter of fact, I am….”
“I thought so,” Cliofus said with a nod. “And you dropped in here because you knew Buster and me from years ago and you wanted to see how we were doing—isn’t that right?”
“Yes, that’s true….”
“Right! But that’s not all of it, because the words keep telling me that you’re really here because you have a question that’s weighing heavy on your mind, and somehow it’s connected with the fellow who got them started the other day. So now that they know you’re in the room they want to get out and get on with it. If I’m right, just say so and maybe they’ll let both of us have a little peace.”
“Very well,” Hickman said, “and if it wouldn’t interrupt your regular routine too much I’d be grateful if you’d have your words give us an account of a moving picture which was produced out here many years ago—or so I’ve been told….” And as he waited for the big man’s reaction he thought, So there, I’ve asked
what Love would probably call the wrong question of the wrong man, in the wrong place…. Then he saw Cliofus nod, slap his thigh, and lean forward. But just as Cliofus was about to answer an elderly woman who sat at a table just below the stage whirled in her chair.
“A moving picture,“the woman shouted. “Mister, I don’t know who you are, but I’ve lived here since I was a young girl and never in my life have I heard about anything like that!”
With a sudden forward movement Cliofus looked down, saying, “Now wait! Hold it!”
“That’s right,” the woman shouted, “never!”
“But madam,” Hickman called with a smile, “while I’m sure that you haven’t, couldn’t it be because you were too young?”
“Oh, no, Ace,” the freckled-faced man beside him said, “I know for a fact that Anna there has been here since Adam messed up with Eve, but in those days you’re referring to she was always out in the country picking cotton….”
“Now that’s a cotton-mouthed lie,” the woman shouted. “I was never even near a cotton patch!”
“Don’t tell me,” the freckled man laughed, “‘cause you spent more time picking cotton than you did in school!”
“And that’s another cotton-mouthed lie! I’ve never picked cotton!”
“Now, I wouldn’t know about that,” Cliofus called down from the stage, “but according to Miss Janey you can take some folks out of the cotton patch, but you can’t take the cotton patch out of their kids. What’s more, you’re suggesting that the gentleman who mentioned a movie is telling a lie. Well, I’m telling you that if he tells you that a hen dips snuff all you have to do is look under her wing and you’ll find a can of Garrett’s!”
“And just how I’m supposed to take some stranger’s word about a movie?”
“Because he’s a man of his Word,” Cliofus said, “that’s why! But if you won’t take his word about that movie, take mine. I was just a kid but I remember a few things about it, and since the gentleman has admitted that the words are onto something, why don’t you just listen and see what they come up with?”
“Hey, Cliofus,” a man called from the bar, “that’s not fair! How come you letting a stranger who nobody’s ever seen before break into your regular routine?”
“Don’t blame it on me, Lonzo,” Cliofus called, “it’s the words—and besides, that man is no stranger, because I remember him from when I was a kid….”
“Get on with it, Cliofus,” Buster called over the sound system. “Time’s a-wasting, so get on with it.”
With a sudden twist Cliofus stared into the shadows behind him, shouting, “Now just what the hell do the words care about time?” Then, turning and stabbing his finger in Hickman’s direction, he continued.
“Anyway, as I recall there was a movie made out here. And it happened back in the early twenties when three men showed up with a car full of moviemaking equipment and spread the news that they were going to make a moving picture. That’s the truth, and it got everybody excited….”
“So what was so strange about that?” a voice called from a side table. “This was cowboy-and-Indian country and plenty of movies were made out here.”
“Yeah, but this one was different,” Cliofus said, “because it was to be one in which anybody who wanted to could play a part.”
“You mean folks like us?”
“Yes, and what’s more, it was made right here in our neighborhood.”
“Now I know it didn’t happen,” the elderly woman said, “because the folks in charge of things wouldn’t let it and they didn’t! I don’t know that man back there, but next thing we know he’ll be telling us that it was a movie about Marcus Garvey chasing Tarzan and all those apes out of Africa!”
“Ace,” the freckle-faced man said as he nudged Hickman and laughed, “if this was a ball game she’d have you swinging at a vicious curve that sailed dead over the plate!”
“And that’s no lie,” Hickman called above the laughter, “but while I’m sure that the lady knows what she saw and didn’t see, I can remember a time when movies about us were being shown right here in this neighborhood. They weren’t made here, but there was a man by the name of Micheaux who was in the business, and I’ve seen some of his movies that were shown in the Sunset. So, madam, while you might not be interested in hearing what Cliofus and his words have to say, would you mind if the rest of us listen?”
“No,” the woman said, “I just hate to see folks come here to hear some lies that get at the truth be mixed up by some that will be nothing but lies.”
“I think I understand,” Hickman said, “but isn’t it possible that the kind of truth you want depends upon the way a lie is told? That the truth lies in the telling? You say that no such movie was ever made, while I’ve been told that it was. Therefore, since Cliofus agrees with me, maybe the best way to settle our argument is to listen to what his words make of what happened or didn’t happen….”
“That’s right!” the freckle-faced man said, “and if you want the truth go to church! Hell, this is the Wind Cave and the rest of us came here to hear Cliofus entertain. We don’t give a damn whether he blows up a lie until it sounds like the truth, or if he gasses up the truth until it sounds like a lie. All we want is for him to get started and do some blowing!”
“So how about it, ma’am,” Hickman said. “Do you mind if we hear what Cliofus has to say?”
“Oh, yes, I mind,” the woman said, “but since I’m outnumbered, go ahead, Cliofus.”
“Thank you, Miss Anna,” Cliofus said, “but I want you to know that the words are a bit upset over your hinting that the truth’s not in them. They say that it’s like arguing that since the Bible wasn’t written until after the things it tells about had already happened it has to wait until somebody reads it out loud or be caught up somewhere between the truth and a cotton-mouthed lie….”
“Now you just wait,” the woman shouted. “Don’t you go putting words in my mouth….”
“… Or since all the words in the dictionary happen to be printed in black ink on
white paper rather than with white ink on black paper, they’re incorrect….”
“I didn’t say that,” the woman shouted. “I didn’t say anything that was even like that!”
“I know you didn’t,” Cliofus said with a grin, “I’m just reporting what the words have to say about it. You didn’t say it, and what’s more, you know that sometimes the Bible rings truer when a preacher lays it down and goes about dressing up its message in things from his own background, and in his own words and experience. That way it can come so alive that you don’t have to sit there wondering if things would have been any better or worse if Jesus had been black. But don’t get me wrong, that’s the way the words look at it, and since they’re mine I apologize.”
“Now don’t you be trying to jive me, Cliofus,” the woman said with a wave of her hand, “because everybody knows that you’re nothing but a long-winded fool!”
“And I thank you kindly,” Cliofus said with a laugh. “But yet and still a movie was made around here, just as that gentleman said. A black-and-white one, and the men who had the idea were some strangers who showed up on the last day of June, when a big rainstorm was in progress. It rained and rained, but instead of cooling off afterwards as it usually does, when this particular rain stopped it got even hotter. In fact, it got so hot that some folks thought that the men would give up on the idea. But the opportunity for being in a movie was so unusual and so exciting that most of them made it clear that come hell or high water they wanted the men to go on and make it….”
“Could you tell us who these men were, and where they came from?” Hickman called.
“Out of the East,” Cliofus said, “where else? And all three were white. One had a Southern, one had a Jewish accent, and the one in charge had so many ways of speaking that nobody was able to pin him down….”
“Yes, honey,” a woman said with a slap of her hand, “and I’ll bet a dollar against a doughnut that he turns out to be the sheet we have to bleach! Yes, and the one we have to watch!”
“Maybe so,” Cliofus said, “but that wasn’t bothering anybody, because the three of them were giving folks a chance to watch themselves act in a movie. So with that kind of opportunity knocking they weren’t worried about accents or even color. But there were a few complications—which,” Cliofus said as he took a sip of water and stared at Hickman, “you’ll need a little background in order to understand.
“The problem arose when the movie men explained that on account of having pressing business out in Hollywood they would have to push the calendar ahead a bit. Which meant that while the story was supposed to take place on Halloween they would have to shoot it on what was actually the Fourth of July. So with it already being close to the end of June, and as hot as blazes, I don’t have to tell you that the idea met with some heated objections.
“Because for years most of our folks had been juggling the calendar to fit their special needs, so naturally they didn’t want some white strangers messing with their schedule. This was by celebrating Emancipation Day—better known as Juneteenth—on the Fourth of July….”
“Hey, Cliofus, how come they call it Juneteenth?”
“That’s a good question,” Cliofus said, “and it was because while Abe Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclaimation in January, the good news didn’t trickle down to many of our folks until the middle of June. And since they had learned to trust the calender more than what was written in the law books, and very little seemed to have changed, they came up with ‘Juneteenth.’ But they discovered that the fourteenth of June was usually a working day on which their bosses weren’t about to let them lay down those rakes and hoes—and especially when it meant that white folks would have to stand by and watch a bunch of Negroes knock themselves out celebrating an event which they considered the worst thing to ever happen to the United States. Naturally our folks disagreed, and some went so far as to argue that by celebrating Independence and Emancipation on the same day they were making the Fourth of July both more glorious and more truly American. That’s right, and some even argued that it was one of the few ways they had of giving the so-called Glorious Fourth some color. So for a while there it looked like the movie was out….”
“And they were right,” a man shouted, “because we have to see things from our own situation! Hell, some of these white folks still think that the only time a black man ought to celebrate is on Saturday night!”
“You’re right,” Cliofus called above the laughter, “but after listening to all the objections, the movie man with all those accents was finally able to convince folks that since the Glorious Fourth was the one holiday on which most folks didn’t have to work, even more of them would be free to take part in the picture. That turned the trick, and soon folks were agreeing that not only would the picture help put the city on the map—which was what the movie men said—but that by combining Independence and Emancipation Days with Halloween they would be stretching three holidays into four.
“So once that sheet was washed and bleached the movie men really got folks excited. They put up posters announcing the movie and ran a contest in which the winning man and woman would be picked to act the leading parts, and pretty soon everybody and his brother were knocking themselves out in anticipation. Even folks who were still a bit leery over the whole idea lent a hand. Some let the movie men use their front yards and parlors for some of the scenes. Some of the ladies lent their funiture and donated flowers and other things. And the local butchers, both black and white, donated racks of ribs for the big barbecue and chitt’ling strut which was to be a part of the story. And the men who ran cafés and lunchrooms donated things like hot dogs and chili and sandwiches and soft drinks.
“The idea of acting in a movie really caught on—even though nobody knew what the story was all about, or even what parts they would be acting in it. But the movie men took care of that by explaining that they planned to hang loose and let the local folks use their own creative imaginations in helping them make up the story as they went along. That way, they said, they could discover each and every body’s special talents and use them. In fact, they made making a movie sound like some new kind of game….”
“Yeah!” an old man’s quavering voice called out, “and a hell of a game it was!”
“That’s right,” Cliofus called with a nod of his head, “but it stopped the objections and raised the excitement. Even some of the so-called society folks caught the spirit, and that included some of those who were leery and a bit uneasy over the idea of associating with the local riffraff—who were knocking themselves out over the idea of acting in a moving picture.
“And even when the old folks held back, some of their kids liked it fine. Like the grandchildren of a man who they swore to have been a hero back in the Civil War. They really went for it, even though nobody could find his name in the history books. But they insisted that he’d been a sailor and a spy for the Union Army, and that he’d been praised for stealing a battleship from the Rebels. So now that they had a chance to give the old man some publicity they dug his old navy jacket out of a trunk that hadn’t been open for fifty years or so, and even though it turned out to be much too big, one of the boys wore it for his movie costume. The other problem arose after he got it on and discovered that he didn’t know the first thing about what kind of man his granddaddy had been. So then he asked the older members of his family how a slave who had been a sailor and a hero had carried himself and he found that they had no more idea than he did. What’s more, the kid had never seen an ocean or a battleship!
“There were others who had similar problems, but in all the excitement and expectation it turned out not to matter. And since most folks had come out here from all over the South it was hard to dispute what they said that they and their old folks had been before they came West. One fellow said that his great-grandmother was a slave who invented Coca-Cola and that her master took it from her and sold it as his own. Another swore that his granddaddy was a painter who had once had a
contract to paint all the public buildings in Nashville, and when he was kidded about it he reeled off the names of a lot of buildings and produced the torn and faded contract. One woman said that she was related to Daniel Boone on her mother’s side, and another claimed to be kin to Thomas Jefferson, and so it went.
“But whoever and whatever they and their grandparents had actually been down South, they were putting just about everything they could think of into dressing up for the parts they hoped they might play in the unplanned movie. Soon it turned into a costume contest, and a few even dressed up their dogs in things like little clown suits and eyeglasses. One fellow had his old bob-tail bulldog walking around with an underslung pipe in his drooling mouth. That’s right! And with the pipe bowl stuffed with red cotton the damn dog looked like he was actually smoking!
“One old man’s costume was nothing more than a pair of blue-jean britches with a piece of clothesline for a belt. The rest of him was naked except for some sandals he’d made out of auto-tire rubber and some rusty skid chains which he wore draped over his shoulders. He swore that he got the chains back in slavery times, but some of the other old men who had actually been slaves put a stop to that lie by forcing him to admit that he hadn’t even been born during slavery. And when he did they told him to get himself another costume or get lost. Otherwise he’d be in trouble.
“With that he argued that since he was black it didn’t matter, and that they were messing with his civil rights to be whoever the hell he wanted to be. Then he threatened to go home and come back dressed as General Robert E. Lee. Which was such an outrage to his critics that they told him to go ahead and that they’d be waiting dressed up like U. S. Grant and William Tecumseh Sherman and would proceed to stomp his ignorant butt until it roped like overcooked okra and as raggedy as a bowl of yakami. They meant it too, but they never did find out whether he carried through his threat, because when things got going at least three guys showed up dressed like Robert E. Lee, and not a single one would take off his hat, whiskers, or Halloween mask.