Death of Innocence : The Story of the Hate Crime That Changed America (9781588363244) (4 page)

“Well, Alma,” he said, “you’ve got a good girl here.”

Anyway, I was glad to see little Emmett finally starting to look like Louis
and me, and I was so relieved that he seemed to be okay after all the trouble we had gone through. And, my goodness, did I make up for lost time with Bobo. That was the playful name a young family friend had given to my baby while I was still carrying him. She would bring me things all the time, announcing that they were for “the little Bobo.” It stuck. I pampered Bo, and bathed him constantly. I used Castile soap. I remember it left his cheeks so rosy. I had no idea why. Mama complained that the soap was too strong for him and that I was washing his skin off. She wound up insisting that I bring him to her when it was time to bathe him.

It was so nice learning about him and how to respond to him. I mean, he was just marvelous. When he wanted something, he would give you a warning. He would simply say, “Uh-uh.” I learned that meant “come and see about me.” Actually, I learned it the hard way, by not coming quickly enough. When I came right away, that’s all I would get, that one little “uh-uh.” But if I didn’t come right away, he would give me another call. And, by the time he gave me a third call, well, everybody in the neighborhood heard it. I mean, he just let go. Mama helped with the translation.

“He
told
you to come and see about him,” she said. “What do you want this baby to do, send you a letter?”

Emmett truly was a miracle baby. It was a miracle that he’d even gotten here, and that he didn’t have to be institutionalized after all. I hadn’t had the proper prenatal care. Of course, I knew some things, because people in the neighborhood knew things they would pass on. But I never even went to a clinic to get treated. In fact, the first time I set foot in the hospital during my pregnancy was when I checked in with labor pains. Well, I just didn’t understand why my mother hadn’t taken me to get checkups before that.

It was only after we had been home together for a short while that I learned that Emmett was having a new problem. An acquaintance, a woman from the neighborhood, wanted to come by and bring her baby to visit my baby. Her baby was about six weeks old, just like Emmett at this point. She was a striking woman, with a look that could make everybody else in the room feel like they needed to go touch up a little. She was a bit older than I was, much more glamorous, and appeared so confident. Unlike me, she didn’t seem at all like a woman who had a newborn, yet she seemed to know all about having one. To look at her, you could tell she was used to finer things, and she had a way of letting you know that. I remember she looked down at little Emmett lying in the dresser drawer where he slept, and she wondered why we didn’t have a bassinet for him. It was the best we could do. I wasn’t working and Louis, well, that’s a different story, but we just didn’t have the money yet for such luxuries as a
crib or bassinet. Soon after she got there, Emmett began to cry. I had noticed that whenever I finished feeding my baby, he seemed to start crying.

“Mamie, your baby is hungry,” this woman told me.

But I had just fed him.

“Do you mind if I feed him?” she asked.

I sure did. I mean, I really did. But I looked at her calmly and simply said, “Just a minute.” I ran to get a wash pan, added soap and water, grabbed a towel, and brought everything back to her. I wanted her to wash her breasts first. She looked at me and sort of shook her head. But then she shrugged and she did it. I was amazed. She nursed Emmett and he went to sleep. That had to be about eight or nine o’clock in the evening. He stayed asleep during her whole visit and did not wake up until ten o’clock the next morning. For the first time, he slept the clock around. Later that next day, I saw the woman walking up the street. Actually, it was more of a strut than a walk. That was her way. Anyway, I ran to the porch when I saw her coming. I just couldn’t wait to tell her.

“Emmett slept all night,” I said with such glee. “You were right. He was just hungry.”

She gave me a sly smile as if she already knew what I was going to tell her before I told her, as if she knew a lot of things I had yet to learn. “Mamie, take your baby to the health center and they’ll give you a formula to feed him,” she said. “Your milk is just not doing the trick.”

I took her advice and the people at the health center put Emmett on formula, yellow cornmeal, and Carnation milk with Karo syrup. Now, Emmett was just a baby. I didn’t think he even should have been eating solid food yet. But he ate a whole bowl. That woman had been like an angel to me and Emmett. I don’t know what would have happened if she hadn’t come by that day. Later, I would learn that she had quite a reputation around Argo. Not for helping new mothers, but for helping their husbands. Not only had she suckled my baby, but I found out she also had serviced my man.

If only that had been the worst of it with Louis Till. Things were to get worse still. Much worse.

Trouble had a way of finding Louis Till. He was a big, strapping man, an amateur boxer who just couldn’t get enough of the sweet sport. Even though we were the same age, Louis was a lot more sophisticated than I was. Of course, that didn’t take much back then, but he had been out on his own for so long, and was quite accustomed to taking care of himself. He had a presence when he stood that made you feel secure to be with him and very uneasy if you were against him. He had a no-nonsense look that was all business, even when he was at play. His favorite game was dice.
Or maybe it was poker. I’m not really sure, but I do know he was a gambler. He never did it at home, but he did it all the time on the way home. Which is why he often got home late, and, just as often, with no money in his pocket. One such night, he came home ready to blame me for his bad luck. I could tell. It didn’t even take
me
long to get the pattern. My friend Ollie was there that evening. My mother was keeping Emmett and she had sent over some greens. I also had made a pot of chili. Louis resented my close relationship with my mother—probably because he had grown up an orphan and never experienced a loving household—and, of course, anything connected to her. On this particular night, it was the greens. He walked in just as I was about to put a forkful in my mouth. I knew he had been drinking and gambling again. And I figured he wouldn’t have the money for the rent again. But I thought at least I could enjoy my greens and figure the rest out later.

“Don’t put that in your mouth,” he said.

Ollie excused herself from the table and left the apartment. But I knew what this was all about, so I paid him no attention. Besides, Mama’s greens were too good to waste. I brushed him off and ate. The next thing I knew, he had pounced on me. I didn’t know what to do at that moment, but knew I was no match for Louis Till. I found myself on the floor with Louis choking me, squeezing my neck as I coughed up the greens, squeezing harder and harder until I just blacked out.

When I came to, there was no one around. I don’t know how long I had been out, but it probably was just a short while. At first I couldn’t tell whether I was dead or alive, but surely God would have delivered me to a better place than that tiny old apartment. I could feel the soreness at my neck where Louis had squeezed. That’s when I knew I was still alive and better act quickly. Louis would probably be coming back and I had to be ready. Either he was coming in peacefully, or he was going out peacefully. Feet first.

I took a poker and placed it on the embers of a wood-burning stove we had. I wanted it to get good and hot. Then I filled a pot with water and placed it on top of the stove to boil. I turned out the lights again. And waited. And thought about how I had gotten in that position, lying in wait for the man I had married only one year before. How I had been so charmed by Louis, yet so terribly wrong about the man.

It was such a thrill to me when Mama finally let me walk to Berg’s Drugstore with Louis. She would never let me go to the show, and even though he had come over a few times, our version of a date up to that point had been just sitting on the front porch. Louis was a dashing, good-looking
guy who was very popular. He had only recently come to Argo from New Madrid, Missouri, to work in the Corn Products plant. I felt lucky that he was paying attention to me and even luckier to have been given a break by Mama. As we approached Berg’s, Louis asked me if I wanted a banana split. Well, I was insulted. I had no idea what a banana split was, but I thought I was good enough to have a
whole
banana to myself. Why should I have to split one with him? He just shook his head at this little country bumpkin and took me inside the drugstore, where he ordered a couple of banana splits. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I watched the clerk prepare them. First, the banana, then the three scoops of ice cream—which I just loved—then the syrup, the pineapples, the whipped cream, nuts, everything. I was just imagining how good this was all going to taste as the clerk began packaging everything and Louis stopped him.

“No,” he said, “we’ll eat them here.”

What was he thinking? I realized he was new in town, but he was about to get us into some real trouble. Louis very casually pointed me in the direction of the booth by the window and we sat there and began eating our banana splits. I could hardly enjoy mine, I was so nervous. Just as I was about to taste a spoonful, Mr. Berg himself rushed out to our booth. He was so upset.

“Mamie,” he shouted, “you know better than this. I’m going to tell Alma.”

Before I could say anything, Louis stood, and he did it so slowly that he seemed to unfold right there, all five feet eleven inches of him, in a way that told Mr. Berg to back off. Louis never spoke a single word, but Mr. Berg left just as quickly as he had come out. Louis calmly sat again at our booth and asked if I liked the banana split. I must have nodded or something, but all I could think about was how much trouble he was getting me into. And to think, this was just our first date. How in the world would I be able to explain all this to Mama? That’s when I noticed something else. Other black people on the street were passing by and doubling back to take a second look at us sitting in a window booth at Berg’s. I’m sure they were as shocked as Mr. Berg had been. But then they started doing something I never would have expected. They began coming in, ordering something or other, and sitting at other booths to eat. Before long, it turned into a mob scene as word spread all over Argo that Louis and Mamie had integrated Berg’s Drugstore. Everyone came in to be part of it, I guess. I really didn’t want to have anything to do with it and kept looking through that window expecting to see Mama storming down that street to pull me out of that booth. But it never happened. Even after I finally made it back home, Mama never said anything. It was as if it was all
a matter of pride that Louis had stood up to Mr. Berg and opened the doors for everyone in our neighborhood. From that day on, I really admired Louis Till, looked up to him. I had always been taken care of and it seemed that he could take good care of me. I felt safe when I was with him, like I had nothing to fear.

The longer I sat there in the darkened room of my apartment waiting for Louis to come back, the less afraid I became. The hot poker and the boiling water were both within reach. No matter how much bigger Louis was, he would be no match for me now. Sure enough, he came back, and started calling out to me.

“Mamie. Mamie.” He sounded so sweet, so pitiful, so sincere. But I wasn’t falling for any of that. As I heard him moving in my direction, I grabbed the boiling pot and threw it at him. All I heard was this bloodcurdling scream as he ran from the apartment, and I grabbed the hot poker. Just in case he doubled back.

The next thing I knew, there was a call from my mother. He had run down the street to her house, probably to get his version of the story in first. Mama told me she had to peel his shirt off his back, pulling pieces of skin off in the process. I told her she should pour iodine on his wounds, and explained what had happened. Mama came through for me this time. She called the police, but they didn’t arrest him. They figured he had already been punished enough.

Eventually, I got a protective order to keep Louis away from me. Without Louis, though, I didn’t have enough money to keep the little apartment. The landlord was sympathetic. I guess that’s what he was trying to be. He suggested that there were two ways to pay the rent. There was money, and then, well, that’s when I knew I had to leave. I mean, I was not that kind of girl. Besides, he was ugly.

I moved back to Mama’s. But things were different. I was different. Something had shifted in me. You reach a point in life where you simply must take a stand. I realized that when Louis had stood up to Mr. Berg. That took courage. And it took courage for me to do what I had to do—leave Louis in a town where women were defined by their relationships. I was a wife and a mother, but I only became a woman on that day—the day I stood up to my man.

As it turns out, Louis just couldn’t help himself. He kept violating that court order, confronting me in the street, arguing with me about getting back together again. Finally, we had to go back to court, where the judge was considerate enough to give Louis a choice: jail or the army. It seemed to take no time at all for Louis to get into basic training. And it was months
before I heard from him again. It was around Thanksgiving and he just showed up on our doorstep. I have to say he really looked good standing there in the uniform. We spent time together and he finally seemed to bond with Emmett. He told me he had made arrangements for me to receive a portion of his military pay. We talked about reconciling, but I wasn’t sure. Before he could weaken my resolve, there was a knock at the door. It was the military police. Louis had gone AWOL. I don’t know what all they might have charged him with, but I know they threw him in the stockade before shipping him out.

Over the next few years, the money came quite regularly from Louis. Not only did we receive his military spousal allotment, but we also got money he was making from boxing and gambling. It really helped to supplement the little money I was making at the time. We were getting about four hundred dollars a month from Louis, and Mama started a bank account for me with the money. She showed me at one point where we had put away more than five thousand dollars. Oh, my, that seemed like all the money in the world to me back then.