1IARRIVED in Memphis on a cold November Sunday morning, in 1925, and lugged my suitcase down quiet, empty sidewalks through winter sunshine. I found Beale Street, the street that I had been told was filled with danger: pickpockets, prostitutes, cutthroats, and black confidence men. After walking several blocks, I saw a big frame house with a sign in the window: Rooms. I slowed, wondering if it was a rooming house or a whorehouse. I had heard of the foolish blunders that small-town boys made when they went to big cities and I wanted to be very cautious. I walked past the house to the end of the block, then turned and walked slowly past it again. Well, whatever it was, I would stay in it for a day or two, until I found something I was certain of. I had nothing valuable in my suitcase. My money was strapped to my body; in order for anyone to get it, they would have to kill me.

2I walked up the steps and was about to ring the bell when I saw a big mulatto woman staring at me through the window. Oh, hell, I thought. This is a whorehouse.... I stopped. The woman smiled. I turned around and went back down the walk. As I neared the street, I looked back in time to see the woman’s face leave the window. A moment later she appeared in the doorway.

3“Come here, boy!” she called to me.

4I hesitated. Goddamn, I’ve run into a whore right off....

5“Come here, boy,” she commanded loudly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

6I turned and walked slowly toward her.

7“Come inside,” she said.

8I stared at her a moment, then stepped into a warm hallway. The woman smiled, turned on a light, and looked at me from my head to my feet.

9“How come you was walking past this house so many times?” she asked.

10“I was looking for a room,” I said.

11“Didn’t you see the sign?”

12“Yes, ma’am.”

13“Then how come you didn’t come in?”

14“Well, I don’t know. You see, I’m a stranger here....”

15“Lord, and don’t I know it!” She dropped heavily into a chair and went into a gale of laughter that made her big bosom shake as though it were going to fly off. “Anybody could tell that.” She gasped, giggled, and grew quiet. She said: “I’m Mrs. Moss.”

16I told her my name.

17“That’s a real nice name,” she said after a moment’s serious thought.

18I blinked. What the hell kind of place was this? And who was this woman? I stood with my suitcase in my hand, poised to leave.

19“Boy, Lord, this ain’t no whorehouse,” she said at last. “Folks get the craziest notions about Beale Street. I own this place; this is my home. I’m a church member. I got a daughter seventeen years old, and, by God, I sure make her walk a straight chalk line. Sit down, son. You in safe hands here.”

20I laughed and sat.

21“Where might you be from?” she asked.

22“Jackson, Mississippi.”

23“You act mighty bright to be from there,” she commented.

24“There are bright people in Jackson,” I said.

25“If there is, I got yet to see some of ’em. Most of ’em can’t talk. They just stand with their heads down, with one foot on top of the other and you have to guess at what they’re trying to say.”

26I was at ease now. I liked her.

27“My husband works in a bakery,” she rattled on pleasantly, openly, as though she had known me for years. “We take in roomers to help out. We just simple people here. You can call this home, if you got a mind to. The rent’s three dollars.”

28“That’s a little high,” I said.

29“Then give me two dollars and a half till you get yourself a job,” she said.

30I accepted and she showed me my room. I set my suitcase down.

31“You run off, didn’t you?” she asked.

32I jerked in surprise.

33“How did you know?”

34“Boy, your heart’s like an open book,” she said. “I know things. Lotta boys run off to Memphis from little towns. They think they gonna find it easy here, but they don’t.” She looked at me searchingly. “You drink?”

35“Oh, no, ma’am.”

36“Didn’t mean no harm, son,” she said. “Just wanted to know. You can drink here, if you like. Just don’t make a fool of yourself. You can bring your girl here too. Do anything you want, but be decent.”

37I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her in amazement. It was on reputedly disreputable Beale Street in Memphis that I had met the warmest, friendliest person I had ever known, that I discovered that all human beings were not mean and driving, were not bigots like the members of my family.

38“You can eat dinner with us when we come from church,” she said.

39“Thank you. I’d like to.”

40“Maybe you want to come to church with us?”

41“Well....” I hedged.

42“Naw, you’re tired,” she said, closing the door.

43I lay on the bed and reveled in the delightful sensation of living out a long-sought dream. I had always flinched inwardly from the lonely terror that I had thought I would feel in a strange city, and now I had found a home with friendly people. I relaxed completely and dozed off to sleep, for I had not slept much for many nights. Later I came awake with a sudden start, remembering the fright and tension that had accompanied my foray into crime. Well, all that was gone now. I could start anew. I did not like to feel tension and fear. I wanted something else, to be human, to be caught up in something meaningful. But I must first get a job.

44Late that afternoon Mrs. Moss called me for dinner and introduced me to her daughter, Bess, whom I liked at once. She was young, simple, sweet, and brown. Mrs. Moss apologized for her husband, who was still at work. Why was she treating me so kindly? It made me self-conscious. We were eating dessert when Bess spoke.

45“Mama’s done told me all about you,” she said.

46“I’m afraid that there isn’t much to tell,” I said.

47“She said you was walking up and down in the street in front of the house, and didn’t know whether to come in,” Bess said, giggling. “What kind of place did you think this was?”

48I hung my head and smiled. Mrs. Moss went into a storm of laughter and left the room.

49“Mama says she said to herself soon’s she saw you out there on that street with your suitcase, ‘That boy’s looking for a clean home to live in,’” Bess said. “Mama’s good about knowing what folks feel.”

50“She seems to be,” I said, helping Bess to wash the dishes.

51“You can eat with us any time you like,” Bess said.

52“Thanks,” I said. “But I couldn’t do that.”

53“How come?” Bess asked. “We got a plenty.”

54“I know. But a man ought to pay his own way.”

55“Mama said you’d be like that,” Bess said with satisfaction.

56Mrs. Moss returned to the kitchen.

57“Bess’s going to be married soon,” she announced.

58“Congratulations!” I said. “Who’s the lucky man?”

59“Oh, I ain’t got nobody yet,” Bess said.

60I was puzzled. Mrs. Moss laughed and nudged me.

61“I say gals oughta marry young,” she said. “Now, if Bess found a nice young man like you, Richard....”

62“Mama!” Bess wailed, hiding her face in the dishcloth.

63“I mean it,” Mrs. Moss said. “Richard’s a heap better’n them old ignorant nigger boys you been running after at school.”

64I gaped at one and then the other. What was happening here? They barely knew me; I had been in the house but a few hours.

65“The minute I laid eyes on that boy in the street this morning,” Mrs. Moss said, “I said to myself, ‘That’s the kind of boy for Bess.’”

66Bess came to me and leaned her head on my shoulder. I was stunned. How on earth could she act like this?

67“Mama, don’t,” Bess pleaded teasingly.

68“I mean it,” Mrs. Moss said. “Richard, I’m worried about whose hands this house is going to fall into. I ain’t too long for this old world.”

69“Bess’ll find a boy who’ll love her,” I said uneasily.

70“I ain’t so sure,” Mrs. Moss said, shaking her head.

71“I’m going up front,” Bess said, giggling, burying her face in her hands, and running out.

72Mrs. Moss came close to me and spoke confidently.

73“A gal’s a funny thing,” she said, laughing. “They has to be tamed. Just like wild animals.”

74“She’s all right,” I said, wiping the table, thinking furiously, not wanting to become involved too deeply with the family.

75“You like Bess, Richard?” Mrs. Moss asked me suddenly.

76I stared at her, doubting my ears.

77“I’ve been in the house only a couple of hours,” I said hesitantly. “She’s a fine girl.”

78“Now. I mean do you like her? Could you love her?” she asked insistently.

79I stared at Mrs. Moss, wondering if something was wrong with Bess. What kind of people were these?

80“You people don’t know me. I didn’t exist for you five hours ago,” I said seriously. Then I shot at her: “I could be a robber or a burglar for all you know.”

81“Son, I know you,” she said emphatically.

82Oh, Christ, I thought. I’ll have to leave this place.

83“You go on up front with Bess,” Mrs. Moss said.

84“Look, Mrs. Moss, I’m just a poor nobody,” I said.

85“You got something in you I like,” she said. “Money ain’t everything. You got a good Christian heart and everybody ain’t got that.”

86I winced and turned my head away. Her naïve simplicity was overwhelming. I felt as though I had been accused of something.

87“I worked twenty years and bought this house myself,” she went on. “I’d be happy when I died if I thought Bess had a husband like you.”

88“Oh, mama!” Bess shrieked with protesting laughter from the front room.

89I went into a warm, cozy front room and sat on the sofa. Bess was sitting on a little bench, looking out the window. How must I act toward this girl? I did not want to be drawn into something I did not want, and neither did I wish to wound anybody’s feelings.

90“Don’t you wanna set here with me?” Bess said.

91I rose and sat with her. Neither of us spoke for a long time.

92“I’m the same age as you,” Bess said. “I’m seventeen.”

93“Do you go to school?” I asked to make conversation.

94“Yes,” she said. “Wanna see my books?”

95“I’d like to.”

96She rose and brought her schoolbooks to me. I saw that she was in the fifth grade.

97“I ain’t so good in school,” she said, tossing her head. “But I don’t care.”

98“Well, school’s kind of important, you know,” I said cautiously.

99“Love is the important thing,” she countered strongly.

100I wondered if she were demented. The behavior of the mother and the daughter ran counter to all I had ever seen or known. Mrs. Moss came into the room.

101“I think I’ll go out and look for a job,” I said, wanting to escape them.

102“On a Sunday!” Mrs. Moss exclaimed. “Wait till in the morning.”

103“But I can learn the streets tonight anyway,” I said.

104“That’s really a good thought,” Mrs. Moss said after a moment’s reflection. “You see, Bess? That boy thinks.”

105I felt awkward, embarrassed, called upon to say something.

106“I’ll be glad to help you with your lessons, Bess,” I said.

107“You think you can?” she asked, doubting.

108“Well, I used to take charge of classes at school last year,” I said.

109“Now ain’t that nice?” Mrs. Moss said in a honeyed tone.

110I went to my room and lay on the bed and tried to fathom out the kind of home I had come to. That they were serious, I had no doubt. Would they be angry with me when they learned that my life was a million miles from theirs? How could I avoid that? Was it wise to remain here with a seventeen-year-old girl eager for marriage and a mother equally anxious to have her marry me? What on earth had they seen in me to have made them act toward me as they had? My clothes were not good. True, I had manners, manners that had been drilled into me at home, at school, manners that had been kicked into me on jobs; but anybody could have manners. I had learned to know these people better in five hours than I had learned to know my own family in five years.

111Later, after I had grown to understand the peasant mentality of Bess and her mother, I learned the full degree to which my life at home had cut me off, not only from white people but from Negroes as well. To Bess and her mother, money was important, but they did not strive for it too hard. They had no tensions, unappeasable longings, no desire to do something to redeem themselves. The main value in their lives was simple, clean, good living and when they thought they had found those same qualities in one of their race, they instinctively embraced him, liked him, and asked no questions. But such simple unaffected trust flabbergasted me. It was impossible.

112I walked down Beale Street and into the heart of Memphis. My body was thin, my overcoat shabby, and each gust of wind chilled my blood. On Main Street I saw a sign in a café window:

113Dish Washer Wanted

114I went in and spoke to the manager and was hired to come to work the following night. The salary was ten dollars for the first week and twelve thereafter.

115“Don’t hire anyone else,” I told him. “I’ll be here.”

116I would get two meals at the café. But how would I eat in the daytime? I went into a store and bought a can of pork and beans and a can opener. Well, that problem was solved. I would pay two dollars and a half a week for my room and I would save the balance for my trip to Chicago. All my thoughts and movements were dictated by distant hopes.

117Mrs. Moss was astonished when I told her that I had a job.

118“You see, Bess,” she said. “That boy’s got a job his first day here. That’s get-up for you. He’s going somewhere. He just don’t sit and gab. He moves.”

119Bess smiled at me. It seemed that every move I made captivated her. Mrs. Moss went upstairs to bed. I was uneasy.

120“Lemme rest your coat,” Bess said.

121She took my coat and felt the can in the pocket.

122“What you got in there?” she asked.

123“Oh, nothing,” I mumbled, trying to take the coat from her.

124She pulled out the beans and the can opener. Her eyes widened with pity.

125“Richard, you hungry, ain’t you?” she asked me.

126“Naw,” I mumbled.

127“Then let’s eat some chicken,” she said.

128“Oh, all right,” I said.

129Bess ran to the stairway.

130“Mama!” she called.

131“Don’t disturb her,” I said, knowing that she was going to tell Mrs. Moss about my wanting to eat out of a can and feeling my heart fill with shame. My muscles flexed to hit her.

132Mrs. Moss came down in her house robe.

133“Mama, look what Richard was gonna do,” Bess said, showing the can. “He was gonna eat this in his room.”

134“Lord, boy,” Mrs. Moss said. “You don’t have to do that.”

135“I’m used to it,” I said. “I’ve got to save money.”

136“I just won’t let you eat out of a can in my house,” she said. “You don’t have to pay me to eat. Go in the kitchen and eat. That’s all.”

137“But I wouldn’t dirty your room with the can,” I said.

138“It ain’t that, son,” Mrs. Moss said. “Why do you want to eat out of a can when you can set at the table with us?”

139“I don’t want to be a burden to anybody,” I said.

140Mrs. Moss stared at me, then hung her head and cried. I was stunned. It was incredible that what I did or the way I lived could evoke tears from anyone. Then my shame made me angry.

141“You just ain’t never had no home life,” she said. “I’m sorry for you.”

142I stiffened. I did not like that. She was reaching into my inner life, where it was sore, and I did not want anyone there.

143“I’m all right,” I mumbled.

144Mrs. Moss shook her head and went upstairs. I sighed. I was afraid that the family was getting too good a hold on me. Bess and I ate chicken, but I did not have much appetite. Bess was looking at me with melting eyes. We went back to the front room.

145“I wanna get married,” she whispered to me.

146“You have a lot of time yet for that,” I said, tense and uneasy.

147“I wanna get married now. I wanna love,” she said.

148I had never met anyone like her, so direct, so easy in the expression of her feelings.

149“Do you know what this means?” she asked me as she rose and went to a table and picked up a comb and came and stood before me.

150I stared at the comb, then at her.

151“What’re you talking about?” I asked.

152She did not answer. She smiled, then came close to me and reached out with the comb and touched my head. I drew back.

153“What’re you doing?”

154She laughed and drew the comb through my hair. I stared at her, completely baffled.

155“But my hair doesn’t need combing,” I said.

156“I know it,” she said, still combing.

157“But why are you doing this?”

158“Because I want to.”

159“What does it mean?”

160She laughed again. I tried to get up and she caught hold of my arm and held me in the chair.

161“You have nice hair,” she said.

162“It’s just common nigger hair,” I said.

163“It’s nice hair,” she repeated.

164“But why are you combing my hair?” I asked again.

165“You know,” she said.

166“I don’t.”

167“’Cause I like you,” she purred.

168“Is this your way of telling me that?”

169“It’s a custom,” she said. “You just fooling me. You know that. Everybody knows that. When a girl likes a man, she combs his hair.”

170“You’re young. Give yourself a chance,” I said.

171“Don’t you like me?” she asked.

172“I do,” I said. “We’re friends.”

173“But I want more’n a friend,” she sighed.

174Her simplicity frightened me. The girls I had known had been hard and calculating, those who had worked at the hotel and those whom I had met at school. We were silent for a while.

175“Say, what’s them books in your room?” she asked.

176“Were you in my room?” I asked with soft pointedness.

177“Sure,” she said without batting an eye. “I looked through your suitcase.”

178What could I do with a girl like this? Was I dumb or was she dumb? I felt that it would be easy to have sex relations with her and I was tempted. But what would happen? Love simply did not come to me that quickly and easily. And she was talking of marriage. Could I ever talk to her about what I felt, hoped? Could she ever understand my life? What had I above sex to share with her, and what had she? But I knew that such questions did not bother her. I did not love her and did not want to marry her. The prize of the house did not tempt me. Yet I sat beside her, feeling the attraction of her body increasing and deepening for me. What if I made her pregnant? I was sure that the fear of becoming pregnant did not bother her. Perhaps she would have liked it. I had come from a home where feelings were never expressed, except in rage or religious dread, where each member of the household lived locked in his own dark world, and the light that shone out of this child’s heart—for she was a child—blinded me.

179She leaned over and kissed me. What the hell, I thought. Have it out with her, and if anything happens, leave.... I kissed and petted her. She was warm, eager, childish, pliable. She threw her arms and legs about me and hugged me fiercely. I began to wonder how old she was.

180“What would your mother say?” I asked in a whisper.

181“She’s sleeping.”

182“But what if she saw us?”

183“I don’t care.”

184She was crazy. Plainly she would have married me that instant, knowing no more about me than she did.

185“Let’s go to my room,” I said.

186“Naw. Mama wouldn’t like that,” she said.

187She would let me do anything to her in her own front room, but she did not want me to do it to her in my room. It was crazy, utterly crazy.

188“Mama’s sleeping,” she observed.

189I began to suspect that she had had every boy in the block.

190“You love me?” she asked in a whisper.

191I stared at her, becoming more aware each minute of the terrible simplicity of her life. That was life for her, simple, direct. She just did not attach to words the same meanings I did. She caught my hands in a viselike grip. I looked at her and could not believe in her existence.

192“I love you,” she said.

193“Don’t say that,” I said, then was sorry that I had said it.

194“But I do love you,” she said again.

195Her voice had come so clearly that I could no longer doubt her. For Christ’s sake, I said to myself. The girl was astoundingly simple, yet vital in a way that I had never known. What kind of life had I lived that made the reality of this girl so strange? I sat thinking of Aunt Addie, her stern face, her forbidding nature, her caution, her restraint, her keen struggle to be good and holy.

196“I’d make a good wife,” she said.

197I disengaged my hand from hers. I looked at her and wanted either to laugh or to slap her. I was about to hurt her and I did not want to. I rose. Oh, hell.... This girl’s crazy.... I heard her crying and I bent to her.

198“Look,” I whispered. “You don’t know me. Let’s get to know each other better.”

199Her eyes were beaten, baffled. Love was that simple to her; it could be turned on or off in a moment.

200“You just think I’m nothing,” she whimpered.

201I reached out my hand to touch her, to speak to her, to try to tell her of my life, my feelings, my doubts; and she leaped to her feet.

202“I hate you,” she burst out in a passionate whisper and ran out of the room.

203I lit a cigarette and sat for a long time. I had never dreamed that anyone would accept me so simply, so completely, without question or the least hint of personal aggrandizement. The truth was that I had—even though I had fought against it—grown to accept the value of myself that my old environment had created in me, and I had thought that no other kind of environment was possible. My life had changed too suddenly. Had I met Bess upon a Mississippi plantation, I would have expected her to act as she had. But in Memphis, on Beale Street, how could there be such hope, belief, faith in others? I wanted to go to Bess and talk to her, but I knew no words to say to her.

204When I awakened the next morning and recalled Bess’s naïve hopes, I was glad that I had the can of pork and beans. I did not want to face her across the breakfast table. I dressed to go out; then, with my coat and hat on, I sat on the edge of the bed and propped my feet on a chair. Taking puffs from a cigarette, I scooped the beans out of the can with my fingers and ate them. I slipped out of the house and went to the water front and sat on a knoll of earth in the cold wind and sun, looking at the boats on the Mississippi River. Tonight I would begin my new job. I knew how to save money, thanks to my long starvation in Mississippi. My heart was at peace. I was freer than I had ever been.

205A black boy came up to me.

206“Hy,” he said.

207“Hy,” I said.

208“What you doing these days?” he asked.

209“Nothing. Waiting for night. I got a job in a café,” I said.

210“Shucks,” he said. “I’m looking for a buddy.” He was trying to act tough, but I thought that he was lonely. “I wanna hop a freight and go north.”

211“Why not hop one alone?” I asked.

212He grinned nervously.

213“Did you run off from home?” I asked.

214“Yeah. Four years ago,” he said.

215“What have you been doing?”

216“Nothing.”

217That should have warned me, but I was not yet wise in the ways of the world or the road.

218We talked a while longer, then walked down a path toward the river’s edge, skirting high weeds. The boy stopped suddenly and pointed.

219“What’s that?”

220“Looks like a can of some sort,” I said.

221I saw a huge can partially screened by high weeds. We went to it and found that it was full of something heavy. I pulled out the stopper and smelt it.

222“This stuff is liquor,” I said.

223The boy smelt it and his eyes widened.

224“Reckon we can sell it?” he asked.

225“But whose is it?” I asked.

226“Gee, I wish I could sell this stuff,” he said.

227“Maybe somebody’s watching,” I suggested.

228We looked about, but no one was in sight.

229“This belongs to a bootlegger,” I said.

230“Let’s see if we can sell it,” he said.

231“I wouldn’t take that can out of here,” I said. “The cops might see us.”

232“I need money,” the boy said. “This’ll help me on the road.”

233We agreed to look for a white buyer. We went into the streets and looked over the white men who passed. Finally we spotted one sitting alone in his car. We went up to him.

234“Mister,” the boy said, “we found a big can of liquor over there in the weeds. You want to buy it?”

235The man screwed up his eyes and studied us.

236“Is it good liquor?” he asked.

237“I don’t know,” I said. “Go and see it.”

238“You niggers ain’t lying to me, are you?” he asked suspiciously.

239“Come on. I’ll show it to you,” I said.

240We led the white man to the liquor; he unstoppered it and smelt it, then tasted the wetness on the cork.

241“Holy cats,” he said. He looked at us. “Did you really find this here?”

242“Oh, yes, sir,” we said.

243“If you two niggers are lying, I’ll kill both of you,” he breathed.

244“We’re telling the truth,” I said.

245The other boy stood awkwardly and looked on. I wondered why he did not say anything. Some vague thought was trying to worm its way into my dense, naïve, childlike mind. But it did not come clear and I brushed it away.

246“You boys bring this can to my car,” the white man said.

247I was afraid. But the other boy was eager and willing. With the white man encouraging us, we lugged the can to his car and put it into the back upon the floor.

248“Here,” the white man said, extending a five-dollar bill to the boy. The car drove off and I could see the white man looking about anxiously, fearing a trap; or so it seemed to me.

249“Gee, let’s get this changed,” the boy said.

250“All right,” I said. “We’ll split it.”

251The boy pointed across the street.

252“There’s a store over there,” he said. “I’ll run over and get change.”

253“O.K.,” I said, angel-like.

254I sat on a sloping embankment and waited. He ran off in the direction of the store, but I was so confident that I did not even watch him. I felt amused. I was going to get two and one-half dollars for finding a cache of liquor. I was a hijacker already. Last night a girl had thrown herself at me. And all this had happened within forty-eight hours of my leaving home. I wanted to laugh out loud. Things could happen to one when one was not at home. I looked up, waiting for the boy to return. But I did not see him. He’s sure taking his time, I thought, pushing down other ideas that were trying to bubble into my mind. I waited longer, then rose and went quickly to the store and peered through the window. The boy was not inside. I went in and asked the proprietor if a boy had been in.

255“Yeah,” he said. “A nigger boy came in here, looked around, then went out of the back door. He went like a light. Did he have something of yours?”

256“Yes,” I said.

257“Well, you’ll never see that nigger again,” the man said.

258I walked along the streets in the winter sun, thinking: Well, that’s good enough for you, you fool. You had no business monkeying in that liquor business anyway. Then I stopped in my tracks. They had been together! The white man and the black boy had seen me loitering in the vicinity of their liquor and had thought I was a hijacker; and they had used me in disposing of their liquor.

259Last night I had found a naïve girl. This morning I had been a naïve boy.