He noticed me and instantly told the guard, “See, this is my friend! We go to school together.”
The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t ask who you go to school with. I asked for a name.”
“It’s... it’s um...” He looked up as if he’d find his name in the sky.
“Jay Jr.,” I offered.
“That’s it,” Jay said. “Silly me. Forgetting my own name.”
Was I not supposed to reveal that?I thought with a tremor of horror at possibly having blown his cover.
“What is your business with the UNIA?” the guard asked. “Our focus here is on increasing the wealth of Colored people. And according to every other issue ofThe Saturday Evening Post, your family is already rich.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say rich.”
“You wouldn’t? You live with your white father in a mansion that could house a good part of this city’s population.”
“The mansion isn’t ours,” Jay said. “We only rent it.”
“The point stands,” said the guard. “It’s suspect that you showinterest in our movement at all, as someone who comes from wealth. Now run along.”
“He’s a friend to me,” I said, stepping forward. “And as the son of West Egg’s founder, his perspective is from right inside the heart of the integration movement. He could use the education he’ll find here to help his father make our school better. Could he stay, please?”
The guard squinted at me, and then her expression softened as she finally resigned. “Fine,” she said, standing aside. “You make a good case... but if he does something that harms the group, it’s on you.”
“He won’t,” I said. “I promise.”
“Thank you, miss,” Jay said as we entered. And then he whispered to me, “Is that all it took?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes I’ll need your help gaining entry to places, and sometimes you’ll need mine.”
People who were lounging in the entryway looked at him when we walked in, but Jay seemed used to the stares and ignored them. He was comfortable beyond the doors, unbothered to be recognized as a person of status, or by the fact that he was lighter than most in the room.
An article about West Egg was the front-page story on a news rack—“Can Negroes Enter into Upper Echelon Society? A Deep Dive into the West Egg Experiment.” I wished I could have set my own papers on the rack beneath it. That way, organizers would know about what was really happening in Harlem’s so-called “integrated” schooling.
We continued walking and entered the nave, where wine-colored pews led to an open altar.
“We ought to be careful,” Jay said, as we scanned the crowd, full of people in suits, feathered hats, and berets. “The federal government’s waging a war against the speaker of the event as we speak.”
“Of course,” I said. “Garvey is a truth-teller, so why wouldn’t they?”
“Andhe combines the two things America hates most,” Jay said. “Colored people and Communism.”
“So, you’re telling me we should be prepared to run?” I asked.
Before Jay could answer, the lights went down on the crowd and up on a stage. We found our seats beside each other as the event began. First was a comedy sketch about buffoon police patrols in New York chasing down a thief. And next, there were some Swanee Bottom dancers, and then Mr. Garvey took the stage.
He wore a suit of fine wool and stood tall and powerful, with a posture that screamed leadership. Everyone cheered so loudly when he took the podium that he had to raise both hands and wait for the crowd to be silent. He smiled, and then his expression grew serious as the people quieted.
“May it please your Highness the Potentate, Right Honorable Members of the Executive Council, Deputies and Delegates to the Second International Convention of Negroes of the World, Ladies and Gentlemen,” he announced. “I desire to give you a message; one that you will, I hope, take home and propagate among the scattered millions of Africa’s sons and daughters.”
He talked about his world travels and how wherever he went, he realized that Colored people’s conditions were decrepit. Everywhere, Colored people were thought to be at the bottom of an imaginary scale. As free Negroes in America, it was our job to change that reality.
Listening to him made me feel free. Larger than life! Like I could do more, be more, regardless of how small West Egg taught me to be.
BANG!
The sound made me jump and turn to Jay.
