CHAPTER 12
AFTER BREAKFAST me and Mr. Lewis said goodbye to the Sleets and got
back into the car. I leaned over the front seat to put my suitcase in the back.
"Mr. Lewis, someone stole all the blood last night!"

He said, "I’ll say one thing for you, Bud, when you go to sleep you go way,
way to sleep. You don't remember anything about last night after we got to
Flint?"

I said, "I don't think so, sir."

"After you so rudely fell asleep on me we dropped the blood off at Hurley
Hospital, then I gassed up, then I got in touch with your daddy to let him know
you were all right."

Uh-oh. "What did he say, sir?"

"I didn't call him, I sent a telegram to the Log Cabin. He still owns that club,
doesn't he?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Lefty Lewis leaned over and reached in the glove box of the car. He
pulled out a flimsy piece of yellow paper and handed it to me.

Across the top of the paper it said in big letters, WESTERN UNION.
Underneath that it said,

HEC STOP
BUD OK IN FLINT STOP AT 4309 NORTH ST
STOP RETURN 8PM WED STOP
LEFTY STOP

Man! I’ll bet Herman E. Calloway was just as confused by this message as I
was.

I said, "What does this mean, sir?"

Lefty Lewis said, "When you send a telegram the more letters you use the more
money you have to pay, so you try to keep your messages as short as you can.
Here, let me see it."

I handed him the paper.

He said, "OK, 'HEC,' that stands for your dad, Herman E. Calloway. 'Bud OK
in Flint,' that lets him know how far you got and that you're safe. And you did
get pretty far, Bud, maybe he won't be too hard on you when he sees how
resourceful you were at running away. I know I'd've been darn proud of one of
my kids if they'd've gotten that far, but I used to offer them money to run and
they'd never take it.

"'At 4309 North St,' that's my daughter's address. And 'Return 8PM Wed' lets
him know I'm bringing you home by eight tonight."

I said, "What are all of those 'stops,' sir?"

He said, "That's the telegram office's way of saying 'period.' It just means that
the sentence is over."

Lefty Lewis spent most of the day doing errands all around Flint. He made me
promise to wait in the car for him. I was good and happy when he said, "That's
it, Bud, time to head home."

We drove past that sign that said WELCOME TO FLINT on one side when he
looked up and said, "Uh-oh."

Suddenly a siren went off sounding like it was in the backseat of the car. I
raised my head up to look over the seat out the back window. Uh-oh was right!
There was a Flint police car right behind us with the red light on top of his roof
flashing on and off, on and off, and with the sheen blasting. They'd found me!

Shucks, this doggone FBI was just as good as the movies said it was, they were
just like those Royal Canadian Mountain Police, they always got their man! I
crouched down as low as I could.

Lefty Lewis pulled the car over to the side of the road and said real calm and
real slow, "Bud. It's very important that you listen very carefully to what I'm
going to tell you and that you do exactly as I say" He kept his eyes stuck on the
rearview mirror.

By the way he was acting I was starting to think that maybe Lefty Lewis was
on the lam too. And wait a minute, how come this man didn't have a real name?
Whoever heard of someone's momma naming him Lefty? That name had alias
writ all over it!

Lefty sounds like a real good name for a stick-up man. It seemed like it would
be real easy for Machine Gun Kelly to point at some poor slob and say,' "That's
the guy what ratted me out, Lefty. Finish him off!"

And what he just said about listening carefully and doing exactly what he said
was Number 8 of Bud Caldwell's Rules and Things to Have a Funner Life and
Make a Better Liar Out of Yourself.

RULES AND THINGS NUMBER 8
Whenever a Adult Tells You to Listen
Carefully and Talks to You in a Real Calm Voice Do
Not Listen, Run as Fast as You Can Because
Something Real Terrible Is Just Around the Corner.
Especially If the Cops Are Chasing You.

I stared at Lefty Lewis, keeping my fingers crossed that the next thing he said
wouldn't be "You'll never take us alive, copper!" Instead, he said, "Bud, are you
listening, Bud?" I had to play along until I got a chance to make a break. I said,
"Yes, sir."

"Attaboy. First close your mouth. Good. Now I want you to take the box that is
next to me and quickly put it all the way beneath your seat."

I picked up a box that was about the size of a big thick book and slid it under
my seat.

Lefty Lewis said, "Good boy. Now stay put and don't say anything." He winked
at me and said, "Don't worry, it's all right."

He opened his door and walked back to the police car. I tried to decide what to
do. If I made a break for it I was sure the coppers would plug me, but maybe
Lefty Lewis would rassle the gun away before they got a good shot off. Or
maybe, just maybe Lefty Lewis would take a bullet for me.

OK, I told myself, I'ma count to ten, then I'm going to reach into the backseat,
snatch my suitcase and hook out for those buildings.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
OK, I'm gonna count to ten again.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

OK, this time I'm really, really going to grab that doggone ... The cop and Lefty
Lewis were standing at the door. The cop said, "I want to take a look in the
trunk."

Him and Mr. Lewis went around to the back and the hunk opened and I heard
someone rumbling around in it. I heard a loud bang and nearly jumped out of
my seat.

Whew! It was only Mr. Lewis closing the trunk. They walked back to the
driver's door.

The policeman looked in the backseat and said, "What's in the suitcase?"
Mr. Lewis said, "Those are Bud's things. He was visiting here in Flint and I'm
taking him home to Grand Rapids."

The policeman looked at me and said, "Oh. Your grandson, huh? You two look
just alike."

Lefty Lewis said, "Why, thank you, Officer, I always thought the boy was
unusually handsome."

The cop didn't have a good sense of humor, he said, "All right, you're free to
go. We can't be too careful, I don't know if you've heard, but we're having a lot
of trouble in the factories here. We've been stopping all cars we don't
recognize. There've been reports that some more of those stinking labor
organizers might be sneaking up here from Detroit."

Mr. Lewis said, "You don't say."

The cop said, "Drive carefully" and he touched the brim of his cop hat the way
a cowboy in the moving pictures does.

Lefty Lewis got in the car, started it and we pulled back out on the highway.
He made a scary face at me and said, "Bud, this has really been a couple of
lucky days for you. First I save you from being eaten by some vampires in
Owosso, then you seem to have survived my daughter's pancakes and finally
that police officer saves you from the feared and loathsome labor organizers of
Detroit! You are truly blessed."

Lefty Lewis was back to acting normal, but I kept wondering who was in the
box he didn't want the cop to see. I said, "What's a labor organizer, sir?"
Mr. Lewis said, "In Flint they are people who are trying to get unions in the
automobile factories."

Before I had a chance to get my next question in Lefty Lewis said, "I'ma save
your breath for you, Bud. I’ll bet the next thing out of your mouth was going to
be, 'What's a union,' right?"

"Yes, sir."

"A union is like a family, it's when a group of workers get together and try to
make things better for themselves and their children."

"That's all, sir?"

"That's all."

"Then why are the cops after them?"

"That's a very good question. Look in that box you put under your seat."
I pulled the box out and put it in my lap and looked over at Lefty Lewis. He
looked back at me and checked the rearview mirror. "Go ahead."

I stopped for a second. Maybe there was a loaded and cocked pistol hiding in
the box, maybe Lefty Lewis would've shot it out with the cop if he'd tried to
take us to jail.

I started raising the top off the box, and just as I was about to get it open Lefty
Lewis moved a lot faster than you'd think somebody's granddad could and
slapped his hand on top of it closing it back tight.

Uh-oh. Maybe this was loot from a bank that him and Al Capone had knocked
over! Maybe Lefty Lewis would have to rub me out if I saw what was inside!
Maybe if I looked I'd know too much!

He said, "Before you look, Bud, you've got to understand that what's in there is
very dangerous."

I said, "Well, sir, I really don't think I need to see it, sir. I think I'll just look out
the window until we get to Grand Rapids, or maybe ..." I gave a big fake yawn.
"Maybe I’ll take a nap."

He laughed and said, "Ah, you're a lot smarter than you look, Bud, you know it
would've been curtains for us if that copper would've seen what's in there." He
tapped the top of the box.

All I could say was, "Yes, sir."

He said, "Go ahead and open it. Bud. You have to promise--no, you have to
swear that you won't breathe a word about what you see to anyone.”

"Mr. Lewis, sir, I'd really rather take a nap."

"Well, first open the box."

I took in a big gulp of air and started to raise the top off the box again.
Lefty Lewis yelled, "Bud!"

I jumped so high I nearly banged my head on the roof of the car.
I yelled back, "Yes, sir?"

"I didn't hear you swear to keep your lips locked." "Aw, shucks, Mr. Lewis, I
swear, but I'd feel a lot better if I could take a doggone nap."

I snatched the top off the box and got ready to be scared to death.
It was just some paper with writing on it.

Maybe the pistol or the loot was under all this paper. I kept lifting paper until I
got to the bottom of the box. Nothing!

I looked at Lefty Lewis. He said, "I warned you, pretty dangerous, isn't it?"

I must've missed something. I went through the box again.

"How's some paper dangerous, sir?"

"Read it."

I took one of the papers out, it said:

ATTENTION RAILROAD WORKERS
THE NEWLY FORMED GRAND RAPIDS
BRANCH OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF
PULLMAN PORTERS WILL BE HOLDING AN
INFORMATIONAL MEETING ON WEDNESDAY,
JULY 23, 1936. ALL INTERESTED PARTIES
PLEASE COME TO 2345 COLDBROOK AT 9:00.
REFRESHMENTS WILL BE SERVED.
YOU KNOW WHAT WE'RE UP AGAINST—
PLEASE KEEP THIS AS CONFIDENTIAL AS POSSIBLE.

It was starting to make sense. I said, "Mr. Lewis, are you one of those labor
organizers?"

He laughed. "Not really, Bud. I'm picking these up so we can pass them out in
Grand Rapids. We've been negotiating to get a union for the Pullman porters
for years now and nowhere in Grand Rapids will print these flyers for us. The
only place that would do them is all the way in Flint. You were running away
to a pretty hot town, young man."

"Wow !"

"That trouble the policeman was talking about at the factory is called a sitdown
strike. Instead of walking in front of the plant with signs the people who
are on strike just sit down on their job. That way the bosses can't bring other
people in to steal their jobs. They're going to sit there until the company gives
them a union, so the company is trying everything they can think of to get them
out. That's why I said those flyers are so dangerous. The people who run the
factories and the railroads seemed to be really scared. To them if a worker has
any dignity or pride he can't be doing a good job."

 

BOY, THESE AUTOMOBILES were great for making you conk out! Between the car
floating real soft down the road and Lefty Lewis's boring stories about the
railroad and the union and baseball I was out cold in no time.

When I woke up I looked out the window and stretched.

Lefty Lewis said, "I was about to take you to Butterworth Hospital, I thought
you'd left the earth for good." He pointed out of the window and said, "Looking
familiar?"

Uh-oh. "Yes, sir." I pointed at a gasoline filling station and said, "Yup, there's
the gasoline filling station."

He said, "I guess your daddy would have to burn premium in that big
Packard, wouldn't he? I don't think those big engines can run on ethyl
gasoline."

I said, "No, sir, that's right."

He told me, "Well, you and your daddy sure have one beautiful machine."
I was getting real nervous but I said, "Thank you, sir."

We turned another corner and my heart started jumping around in my stomach.
Halfway down the street was a building that looked like it was made out of
giant chopped-down trees. The Log Cabin!

Uh-oh. Right outside the place was a sign that said, APPEARING FRIDAY
THROUGH SUNDAY IN JULY HERMAN E. CALLOWAY AND THE
NUBIAN KNIGHTS OF THE NEW DEAL.

My father had joined a new band!

Lefty Lewis pulled up next to a car that was as long as a big boat.
He said, "Ah, there's the Packard, he's here.

I had to think real fast. I couldn't let Mr. Lewis and Herman E. Calloway talk to
each other. If they did I'd be on the first thing smoking back to Flint. And
besides, I felt kind of bad about lying to Mr. Lewis, I wished I didn't have to.
Lefty Lewis cut the car off and pulled the key out of the dashboard.

I said, "Mr. Lewis, this is going to be very embarrassing for me."

"What is, Bud?"

"Can I go talk to my father by myself, sir? I swear I’ll turn myself in to him."
Lefty Lewis looked at me kind of hard. "Well, Bud, I don't mean to sully your
reputation, but you just ran away from that man all the way across the state, I
think I'd better hand-deliver you."

"But Mr. Lewis, sir, I need to explain it to him by my self. I promise I’ll go in
and not run away again."

Lefty Lewis looked out of the windshield like he was thinking. He reached
back across the seat and put his hand on the twine keeping my suitcase
together. He said, "I’ll tell you what, Bud, you don't go anywhere without this,
do you?"

I said, "No, sir."

"OK, here's the deal, I’ll give you"-he looked at his wristwatch--"five minutes
to talk to your dad alone. If you're not back by then I’ll bring your bag in for
you."

It wasn't great, but it would have to do. Besides, it gave me some more time to
think.

"Please promise that you won't look inside of it, sir."

He raised his hand. "You've got my word."

I got out of the car and walked to the front of the Log Cabin. The doors looked
like they were made out of chopped-down trees just like the rest of the
building. I looked back at Lefty Lewis and he was still watching so I opened
one of the doors.

I knew it was one of those doors that Momma had been talking about. I walked
in to see what was going to happen.

Shucks, there was another set of regular doors inside. The front door closed
behind me and I was in the dark. I tried the other door and it came open but I
didn't push it all the way in.

I waited, then went back out to get my bag.

I walked over to the driver's side of Lefty Lewis's car, smiled and said, "Thank
you very much, sir. He's in there, he was so glad to see me that I'm not even in
a whole lot of trouble. He's real busy right now and told me to tell you thank
you very much and that he'd get a hold of you."

Lefty Lewis smiled too. "Well, he might be happy now, but if I know anything
about your daddy I expect you're gonna be having problems sitting down
before this night's over.

"Now I know he's going to tell you this but I gotta add my two cents. Son, there
just aren't too many places a young Negro boy should be traveling by himself,
especially not clear across Michigan, there're folks in this state that make your
average Ku Kluxer look like John Brown. You know who John Brown is?"

"Uh-uh, no, sir."

"That's all right, he's out there moldering somewhere. But the point is you were
very lucky this time. You've got to be good and stay put. I know your dad's not
the easiest man in the world but, believe me, he's mellowed a lot from when it
was just him and your sister.

"The next time you're of a mind to do a little traveling you come on down to the
train station and ask for Lefty Lewis first. I won't tell anyone, but we need to
talk before you set out on your own again. Lefty Lewis. Think you can
remember that name?"

"Lefty Lewis." Well, at least he was using the alias all over and not just with
me and his family in Flint.

He handed my bag out of the window. "OK, get back an in there and tell your
daddy I said hello."

"Thank you, Mr. Lewis."

I stood waving until the big car turned out into the street.

I sucked in a jumbo gulp of air and opened the front door again. This time I
pushed the second set of doors open and walked in.

It was dark but I could see that there were six men sitting in a circle on a little
stage at the other end of the room. One of them was white.

Five of the men had their eyes on the other guy. One of them had drumsticks in
his hands and was leaned over softly tapping out a rhythm on the wooden stage
floor. Three of them were drinking from bottles of pop, and one, a real old one,
was using a rag to wipe the inside of a trumpet. The guy who had to be my
father was sitting with his back to me wearing a hat.

He was talking just like me! And it didn't take much listening to tell he was
lying, or at least doing some real good exaggerating, just like I do!
That was all the proof I needed.

His voice was a lot rougher and more tired-sounding than I thought it would be.
He leaned back in his chair. "That's right, after I won the Golden Gloves no one
couldn't tell me I wasn't going to be middleweight champ within two, three
years tops."

The drummer stopped tapping. "Middleweight? What, this was so long ago
gravity wasn't as strong as it is now, or did a pound just weigh less back then?"
The others laughed but my dad didn't let it bother him. "That's right,
middleweight. You got to keep in mind that I had more hair and fewer pounds
back then."

He pulled the hat off and rubbed his hands over his glass-smooth head. My dad
shaved his hair! That was something I always wanted to do too!

He said, "My manager goes and lines up a bout against a fighter outta Chicago
by the name of Jordan 'Snaggletooth' MacNevin.

"From the name I'm expecting some young Irish kid with bad teeth but this guy
was one of us and so old that he could have been a waiter at the Last Supper.
"When the fight began I wasn't about to show mercy, you understand?"

All the guys onstage were nodding. "And to make a long story longer I go out
and dick this halfway stiff right jab clean at Pops's head and--"

The horn guy said, "Herman, to this day I can't believe you swung at that old
man."

"What was I supposed to do, Jimmy? I wasn't trying to kill him or nothing, I
just wanted to put him down quick and quiet."

Jimmy went, "Uh, uh, uh ..."

"And the next thing I know I'm watching my mouth- piece and my chance to be
champ flying out of the ring into the fourth row of seats. I ain't never been hit
so hard in my life."

The drummer said, "What, you lost one fight and quit?"

Then Herman E. Calloway said the words that let me know I was right. I felt
like someone had cut a light on inside me. I knew it'd been right for me to come
all the way from Flint to Grand Rapids to find my dad.

The idea that had started as a teeny-weeny seed in a suitcase was now a mighty
maple.

Herman E. Calloway, my father, said, "There comes a time when you're doing
something and you realize it just doesn't make any sense to keep on doing it,
you ain't being a quitter, it's just that the good Lord has seen fit to give you the
sense to know, you understand, enough is enough."

That was the exact same thought I'd had when I got whipped by Teddy boy!
Only two folks with the same blood would think them just alike! I sucked in a
big gulp of air, got a good grip on my suitcase and walked into the light of the
stage.

The old horn guy, Jimmy, saw me first and said, "I thought I heard that door
open. Did Miss Thomas send you, son?"

I just kept walking onto the stage. I had to see my father's face, I knew we'd
look so much alike that the truth would hit him as hard as that Snaggletooth
guy had. Even Lefty Lewis said he could tell me and Herman E. Calloway were
kin.

He turned to see who Jimmy was talking to and my mighty maple started
shaking in the wind.

My dad's face was old.

My dad's face was real old, just like this horn guy. Maybe too old. But ... there
was just too much proof that this was my father!

He smiled at me. He had his arms crossed over a great big stomach with his
head-wiping rag hanging out of his right hand.

The first thing my dad said to me was, "Well, well, well, little man, what brings
you here? Miss Thomas?"

"I don't know any Miss Thomas, sir."

"So what're you doing here?" He put his hand over his eyes to shield them from
the stage lights and looked out into the dark part of the bar. I noticed how
wrinkly my dad's hand was. "Who brought you here? Your folks out there?"
"No, sir. I'm here to meet my father."

Jimmy said, "Who's your daddy? Why'd he tell you to meet him here?"
I kept looking at Herman E. Calloway.

"He didn't tell me to meet him here, sir. I come all the way from Flint to meet
my daddy for the very first time."

Ah the men looked over at the drummer. He stopped tapping.

He said, "Awww, man. Look, this child ain't no kin of mine. What's your
momma's name, boy?"

I said, "You ain't my daddy." I pointed right at Herman E. Calloway's big belly.
"You know it's you." All the eyes jumped over on Herman E. Calloway. He
quit smiling and looked at me a lot harder, like he was really noticing me.

I knew if I was a regular kid I'd be crying buckets of tears now, I didn't want
these men to think I was a baby so I was real glad that my eyes don't cry no
more. My nose plugged up and a little growl came out of my mouth but I kept
my finger pointed, cleared my throat and said, "I know it's you."