Low Road (24 page)

Eleven—Never [D]ie [A]lone.… Because of his friendship over the years, I leave the royalties from this novel, Never Die Alone, to Albert Clark, known as Crummie. My personal friend.

A few close observers had actually questioned the level and nature of Clark's devotion to Donnie. The author had given him perhaps the highest manner of tribute by placing his name on the covers of four books,
Crime Partners, Death List, Cry Revenge,
and
Kenyatta's Escape.
He completed novels so rapidly that Holloway House became concerned about the possibility of his books flooding the market. Teenagers and adults were increasingly drawn to his work, which—on one of its deepest levels—reflected much about the times in which they were living and the manner in which everyday, poor, struggling people functioned. Donnie had developed a following that would continue to grow, but his publishers wanted to do their best to keep his products from competing with one another. Bentley Morriss made a suggestion.

“Donald, God love you,” he said. “We want to publish the books, but if you put out too many books of an author within a given period of time it has a sham about it. Would you consider putting a book out under a pseudonym?”

Donnie thought about it. Crummy's name should be as good as any. Holloway House first published the titles as if they were written by Al C. Clark. Then they began to put out the attribution of Al C. Clark “as told to Donald Goines.” That the books would sell was the greatest concern of all parties involved. It didn't matter in the slightest that Crummy would never write a book for Holloway House as long as he lived. For his sons, Donnie added a stipulation to the will that would ensure his family name continued after he was gone. On its final page, he specified:

If, by chance, I complete any other novels before my death, I wish the royalties from them to go to my oldest son, Alfonso Chambers. If, by chance, anything should happen to anyone that I have left novels [to], the [rights] of these books are not to be passed on by them. The rights to my novels should come back to Marie, Myrtle, Alfonso Goines family. Before any of my children shall receive any money from [my] novels, their last name should be legally changed so that they will be Goines. If they do not [choose] to [accept] this name, then the money should remain in a fund to be shared among the other Goines. Each and every one of my sons shall have his name changed to Goines before receiving his share of [benefits]. The only way that they don't have their names changed will be because they couldn't have it done legally. That will be the only excuse, that for some reason the courts wouldn't allow them to change their names. As far as the girls are concerned, it's not really necessary, but for Alfonso, Tony, Donnie, Chris, these boys should try and have their names changed to Goines.

With its last word typed, Joan was the first to sign the writer's final requests as a witness. At the time, she had no way to recognize how important her help in completing the task had been. Her brother's literary legacy would ultimately become a source of both pride and pain within the family. Perhaps revealing the sensitivity he felt toward his siblings, Donnie wrote
Swamp Man.
It was the only novel that he would set outside of the urban environments with which he was so familiar. Instead, the story develops against the backdrop of a small, rural Mississippi community. In one chapter, Donnie described the moment when
Swamp Man
's main character recognizes that his sister has been drugged:

The Henrietta he knew wouldn't have let him see her in her bra, let alone stark naked. The more he thought of it, the angrier he became. The sight of Henrietta dancing naked, stripped of her pride and womanhood, fed fuel to his anger … Now he realized why they had been able to take advantage of her.

Donnie hadn't always approved of his sisters' choices. Whatever protective instincts Donnie may have developed were probably well formed, if not well directed. He had contributed his share of negative influence to the lives of any number of women, and more than likely he had come across some who called themselves someone's sisters. He knew what a man with game was capable of running because he had run it. In the Henrietta character, he represented the vulnerability he perceived as a common attribute of women in general. In more than a dozen novels, he had depicted only one female as a protagonist, in
Black Girl Lost,
and as the title implied, she was one of dubious strength and distinction from the others. George Jackson,
Swamp Man's
lead, is driven to take bloody vengeance on the men who gang-rape Henrietta, in a violent, perverse, and gripping yet difficult-to-read tableau that stretches over several pages.

“By God, Zeke, look at them tits on her, will you?” Jamie stated, taking one of them in his hand and squeezing it until she cried out. “I ain't seen none like that in some time, I'll tell yo', boy. Them critters stand right on up there!”

“Damn them tits,” Zeke cried out, spit running out of the corners of his mouth and dropping down on the half-naked woman. He reached around him and ran his hand down the front of her pants, playing in the tightly curled hairs he found there.

Finally, she could feel herself being dragged down to the ground. Rough hands tore her pants off her body until she lay naked under the branches of the tall willow tree. Birds flew overhead calling out to each other, but Henrietta heard nothing as she felt fingers being rammed up inside her body. She called out, screamed for mercy, begged and promised, but to no avail. The men didn't hear. Her panic meant nothing to them. They were beyond stopping. Their only desire now was lust.

Similarly, a few books later, Donnie showed his awareness of the bond between father and daughter as he set
Daddy Cool
's primary character, Larry Jackson, on the warpath after the man he holds responsible for turning his daughter out onto the street. With what paternal sensibilities Donnie possessed, he portrayed Larry as the prototypical image of the concerned and protective father:

Many times, Daddy Cool had sat in his poolroom and listened to this same young man talk about his exploits with the young girls of the neighborhood. Now the young man was spending his time with Janet. He had warned the girl about the boy, but she hadn't paid any attention to him, thinking he was being old-fashioned. She loved the attention she received when she and the self-proclaimed pimp rode through the neighborhood with the top down.

Whether Donnie did it consciously or without thought, he gave several different characters in his books identical names. For example, Larry's right hand was called Earl, just like the hustler in
Street Players.
There was more than one Willie Brown. More than one Janet, Red, Buddy, and Mike. Even more than one man called “Preacher.” Another characteristic of Donnie's prose was the awkward placement of physical descriptions. As if it were the one instruction his editors had driven into his mind, he routinely assigned attributes like “tall, light-complexioned” or “short, muscular” to the images he put on paper. But he frequently added the phrases to sentences that were irrelevant to outward appearance. His work was often edited with a fairly heavy hand; however, the editing itself was not of a particularly high quality, as misspellings and errors in grammar and punctuation made the final prints. Readers, nonetheless, generally responded with eager acceptance. The raw and simplistic language Donnie used complemented the subject matter of his novels, adding a perceived authenticity to the fiction. He briefly wrote to himself: “When I'm mellow, stories come and go—so many, like I'm seeing a movie.” There were folks who regarded themselves as Donald Goines fans. Who went out to pick up the next book as quickly as they could finish one. Holloway House would receive letters from readers expressing their admiration, and there came a point when Donnie was even regarded as a neighborhood celebrity of sorts. What he lacked in wealth, he was gradually gaining in status.

Ironically, this is when it got more painful for him. The buzz about his books and ongoing success with getting published interfered with Donnie's anonymity. At one time, he had been able to go out and score from a dealer, return home, and work until he grew tired, without any thought of the buy he made earlier. Now, though, there were pushers who recognized his name and face, not because he was a regular, but because of the little notoriety he was achieving. Donnie's pride was wounded in ways it had never previously been. Young niggers were moving into the heroin game, and if a level of arrogance was detected in them, it could be tough for an old player to handle. When Donnie found himself compelled to patronize the neighborhood boys, he carried the added shame of knowing that they could brag and talk shit about how he needed them as suppliers. As he asked for money to make the buy, he would face Walter in tears, grown-man tears that begged an answer to the question of how he had reached such a miserably low point. Walter would give him what cash he could and try to encourage his old friend. A junkie had it hard as hell when he knew his sickness was out of reach yet felt powerless to contain it. Donnie had pronounced his own fate a few years earlier in the first chapter of
Dopefiend.
Now he felt it approaching him. As he had done demonstratively within his own family, he offered the equivalent of a testimonial for all of his readers to heed. The most definitive public statement he would ever make about the source of his own addiction:

The white powder looked innocent as it lay there in the open, but this was the drug of the damned, the curse of mankind. Heroin, what some call “smack,” others “junk,” “snow,” “stuff,” “poison,” “horse.” It had different names, but it still had the same effect. To all of its users, it was slow death.

By contrast, the Kenyatta series symbolized Donnie's desire for victory. It revealed a sense of morality that he seldom displayed in his actions. Young and militant, Kenyatta was first introduced in
Crime Partners.
While his approach resembles that of gangsters and terrorists, he is named after Jomo Kenyatta, leader of the movement that brought the African nation of Kenya to freedom from British colonialists in the 1950s. In one chapter of
Crime Partners,
Kenyatta, operating as a gun supplier, tells two would-be customers: “You brothers are dedicated, but not to gettin' rid of these white pigs that ride around our neighborhood acting like white gods.” He promises the men that if they participate in a vigilante mission he has planned for that evening, he will give them the weapons they want. Intrigued by the leader, who models his organization much like the Black Panther Party, the characters accept his offer. Kenyatta is devoted not only to eliminating police brutality but also to ridding his community of drugs. As a matter of fact,
Death List
finds him in an alliance with the cops in an effort to ice various dealers. A desire for freedom from all epidemics and vice is what drives him. Like Kenyatta, Donnie longed for liberation. The character represented the strength and fearless determination that he lacked.

Donnie maintained few pastimes, but he remained a competitive chess player. Walter regularly stopped by his place to challenge him to a game or two. At times, the men would make wagers as if they were playing cards. Not a man who had objections to gambling, Donnie put up what he could to keep the stakes respectable, if not high. Here, he would show flashes of his old self, which was not altogether a bad thing. If there were opportunities when he could show himself and others that he was still sharp, that he still had the hustler's edge, his confidence might increase to a degree that would let him believe he could pull the other suffering areas of his life together. Donnie and Walter might face off at opposite ends of the chess board with a lure of twenty dollars per game. During one of their meetings, Walter couldn't help but notice how much his opponent appeared to be in need of a fix. Donnie sat with two of the children on his lap while they played. He scratched frantically at his arm, obviously distracted. Walter was getting the best of him in the game. Donnie continued to scratch. Shirley noticed and suggested that he go into the bathroom to take care of his jones. Donnie didn't move far from the table, but finally he gave in to the urge. As Walter turned his head in disgust, Donnie tied off his arm, located a vein and began the bloody process of injection. He laughed at Walter's squeamishness. Then, relieved, he turned his attention to the board and kicked Walter's ass.

Their game suffered greater interruption on a different occasion. While the men carefully worked their strategies against one another, they gave no thought to who was approaching the house outside. The unit that Donnie and Shirley occupied was a lower that could be entered only by way of the alley. Their building was not especially conspicuous among others in the neighborhood. If bad intentions could be visibly identified, however, three visitors who sought Donnie as they walked up to the house should have attracted notice. The men were let into the house, and Donnie recognized them right away. He abruptly excused himself from the chess competition and led the men into the bathroom, where he closed the door for privacy. Still, Walter could hear parts of the conversation. There had been an unsettling tension in the air since the tall, menacing, hillbillylike figures first appeared.

“I know I did you wrong,” Walter could hear Donnie saying. “My family's here. Give me a few days.” Clearly, Donnie was attempting to negotiate his way out of a situation. There was no telling what kind of dilemma he might have created for himself. But Walter felt it was a serious one. Donnie emerged from the bathroom, and his visitors left in peace. However, they had found him—and for whatever the reason they came—it hadn't been to take any decisive action. Donnie had bought himself some time. With Walter's mind engaged over what he had witnessed, his partner briefly broke the situation down: Donnie's three visitors had come from California to find him. He had crossed someone before he left the state, and the transgression was obviously not appreciated. Donnie didn't offer many more details, but it was a discussion Walter wouldn't forget. When he left the house, in spite of the disturbing and peculiar episode, he had no way of knowing that he and Donnie had played their final game together.