IGKTW (R2) Preacher Man, Storm in Hand (978 hits)
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Rating: 2 on 14 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jack McCallum (View user info) at 2006-05-04 11:52:48 EDT
IGKTW (R2) Preacher Man, Storm in Hand
Now you sit down, chillun, sit yo'selves down now an' listen to what ah gots to tell you.
Now you... Arnold, ah'm talkin'... take them squealin' buds out yo' ears an' LISTEN to me BOY!
That's bettah. Now Arnold, you sixteen, boy, old 'nuff to settin' a zample fo' the li'l ones, not goin off in yo' own li'l world an' lissnin' to music.
Music. HA! Them gangsta's think they some tough niggahs? They evah had to work a sissteen hour day, seven days a week? They evah work beside a white man, riskin' all in a time of war, an' get no recognition fo it? They evah seen they own chillun sold off like cattle? They evah been whipped, boy? Whipped 'til they backs was all tore up an' raw?
No, they ain't tough niggahs. They posin' fools is what they is. Struttin bout with guns an' acting all cock of the walk, getting rousted by po'leece by they own stupidity.
The life o' the Negro always gonna be tough, but sometimes we get touched by grace, and see the hand o' God.
You want to hear about a real tough niggah, you lissen up. An' all you li'l ones lissen up too.
This heah is a story 'bout a preacher man, an' the wrath o' God.
Yo great granddaddy Zaccheus is eighty-eight yeahs old. Eighty-eight yeahs! You, Laurence, you's what, eight yeahs old? Boy, ah done lived eleven yeahs for evey one o' yo's. Mmm-hmmm! Lord only knows how long ah'm goan be able to pass these stories on, so lissen good.
We got, what twelve chillun heah today? Tha's good. Ah do like me a fam'ly reunion. Look at all my beautiful granchillun, and great-granchillun.
Now, when ah was the age of some o' you young 'uns, ah nevah knew my grandaddy. He had been a slave. Tha's right, doan look so surprised. Wasn't that long ago an' we got to remember. We got to remember, not to build up a big black wall an' hate the white man, but to realize like black people back then did... when you got nothing but fam'ly, fam'y's all you need. An' when you got money in the bank an a big ole house... fam'ly's still what you need mos'.
Now this heah tale be takin' place in nahnteen, thirty-two. Ah was foah'teen yeahs old. We was in the depression. Black people, niggahs, Af'can Americans, whatevah you want to call us, we was sufferin' bad, chillun.
It was hard enough to find a job an' bring home cash money, harder still fo' a black man.
Now ah lived in Deacon's Hollow, south of Birmin'ham, on the edge of a big ol' 'bama swamp. Deacon's Hollow was mostly Negroes. We had some whites roun'the edges o' town, but the Hollow was mostly black.
In a way that was a good thing, cause none of us had any cash money on the best o' days, an' when those paper markets done crashed a lot of white folk livin' high on the hog ended up jus' like us.
They was a long history o' barter in the Hollow, an' li'l 'uns, that just means tradin' like when you all trade comic books or toys, we would trade things we needed for things needed back, or work needin' done. Ah once brought home a whole bag o' taters after spendin' a day helpin' Mr. Shem Tillerman patch up his roof o' his shop, runnin' buckets of nails an' such up an' down the ladder.
Now, cause of the way we bartered an' pulled together in those hard times, we was real protective of each other, even mo' so than usual.
An' because we pulled together an' axed each otha' fo' help, we all went to Riverside Baptist Church too, mos' everyone in town. Course the river wasn't much, jus' the waters what fed the swamp, an' we was what fed the swamp too, in a way, but ah'll get to that.
Even though ah was at an age when church should o' been the last thing on my mind, ah always went. Ah liked the music, see, an' the choir there may had been wearin' worn ol' clothes that was nothin' but patches on patches, but there wasn't nothing ragged 'bout their voices, an' they sang sweet praise fo' our Lord. The fact that there was one o' two very pretty young thangs with voices like angels may have hep'd a li'l bit, mind. The other reason ah liked to go to that tall building on the edge of the swamp was that mah uncle Gideon was the preacher there, an' they ain't never been a Reverend who could fill you up with the fear o' Jesus like that man.
Ah lef' schoolin', what li'l ah got, when ah was ten years old, cause they was work to be done, mouths to feed. Ah was the last o' my momma's chillun, an' ah had lot's o' nieces an' nephews, the chillun of mah bruthas an' sistahs, unnerstan'. An' this was before any o' mah own chillun was born, the grammas an' granddads of all you young'uns heah.
Think on that, chillun. Once upon a time yo' grammas was li'l girls, playing with dollies an' getting tucked into bed with a bedtime story or a lullaby. Mmm! Mr. Time jus' keep struttin' through our lives now, doan he?
So there we was on the edge of the swamp, stuck in hard times, but makin' do. Ah nevah ate steak until ah went into the Navy to fight against them Japanese, worked in the kitchen, sho, but ah did mah part. An' ah nevah had any bran' new off the rack clothes until the day ah got married an' some o' mah friends bought me a suit cut an' measured to fit nobody but me. Yet ah nevah went hungry, no sir, an' ah always had clean clothes.
Mah momma always worked hard, you see, to provide, an' make sure her chillun was not jus' getting' by, but comfa'ble at night an' happy durin' the day. They was times ah got into screamin' matches with her, an' after all these yeahs she been dead an' gone they still be days ah wish ah could ask my momma fo' advice.
If ah gets up to heaven and finds my momma ain't sittin' someweah on the right hand o' the Lord, ah'll slap sainted ass all the way up the line to mah sweet Lord Jesus to set that to rights. Ah sweah!
We be segregated back then, but we was happy. The tribulations of Dr. Martin Luther King's time was a long way off.
The only bad in our lives was the Klan. Those crazy white boys wasn't doing as much harm by the time ah was foah'teen, but there was some hardheads, some holdouts who thought things should nevah change an' blacks was animals needin' to be put down.
The swamp on the edge o' Deacon's Hollow was called Lowhat Swamp, on account there was some deep waters where'n if you fell out o' a boat you'd sink low enough all we'd see is yo' hat.
The Klansmen called it somethin' diff'rent, though.
They called it The Swamp That Ate Niggahs.
We nevah went near it. They was gators in that swamp, a few anyhow, an' cottonmouths. An' bones.
Back before ah was born more than one sorry nigger got trussed like a hog an' tossed in the dark water. Never lef' no traces like lynchin's did.
What you sayin', Arnold? What you sayin' boy?
This story too scary fo' the li'l ones?
You damn straight it's goan be scary. An' the reason ah'm tellin' it is to show that sometimes, if you can stand up to what scares you an' be true, you can be touched by the grace of God, an' what's the grace of God to some, is His wrath to others.
Now shut up an' pay attention, boy. Them famous rappers you take a liken to like Twenny Cent an' Two Shack ain't never faced down the the Klan, have they? If they did they'd piss out all that bubbly wine they drink right quick, drop they guns an' high-tail it, crying fo' they mommas.
Now like ah been saying, things was bad, but not as bad as you'd think if you listen to some o' them ol' blues songs 'bout tough times like the depression. Course mos' them blues singers was about as self-sufficient as these rappers. No good layabouts chasin' tail an' drinkin' an' takin' to harder stuff too, 'stead of settlin' down an' workin' a job an' comin' home to a family an' a good home-cooked meal at the end o' the day.
Judgmental? Ah'm judgmental? Heh-heh-heh. You got that right, boy. An' ah respec' you fo' speakin' up like you do, Arnold. Ah knows you a good boy. If ah can just get you to wear pants that fit an' listen to some good music ah think you'll turn out jus' fine.
So now let me set the scene, as they say. We all was happy in our li'l town with our li'l church. An' in spring of nineteen thirty-two, two things came to Deacon's Hollow.
The Klan, an' a to'nado.
You look it up in yo' books, or yo' computer netty thing, see if ah be lyin.' Spring of thirty-two was bad fo' to'nadoes. Real bad. One of the worst disasters in the history of 'bama.
Now ah foun' out later from mah daddy, who was brutha to our Reverend Gideon, that some Klansmen had been eyeballin' our li'l church for some time.
They been sendin' letters to Gideon, tellin' him to shut his mouth an' move on.
My daddy said they set sights on Gideon cause he kept all us folk focused, an' they thought if Gideon picked up an' left, the town might quiet down, because there had been talk, you see. Talk about the vote.
See, now'days, anyone old enough can vote an' say what they think should be done in the doings of the state or the country.
When ah was a boy Negroes had the right to vote, but it was made such a hardship fo' us that mos' didn't bother.
In 'bama back then white folk only had to sign they names to vote.
Black folk had to almos' do a song an' dance fo' massa. They had to fill out all kinds o' papers that was jus' confusin' an' fright'nin' fo' someone who didn't have a lot o' educatin', like me an' mah daddy. Gideon didn't have a lot o' schoolin' either, but that man always had his nose in a book, an' he spoke right smart, ah can tell you true.
Negroes also had to get permission from they boss to go vote durin' the workin' week. An' mos' times the boss-man was white. If boss-man said no, you was done, son. If boss-man said yes, well, that's when the Klan an' others would step in an' have somethin' to say to boss-man. An' in those hard times, not many white men could afford to lose bidness, you see.
Ah know all this is confusin' fo' you li'l ones. Let's jus' say that Gideon was a lot like Dr. King, God rest both they souls. He said "Stan' up! Doan be a niggah! Be a man, an' demand yo' rights!"
You got to recall what ah said 'bout Deacon's Hollow. Our town was mos' all black, so black bosses was all too willin' to let they people go vote, if anyone wanted to risk it.
So that's where things stood in March of thirty-two. The Klan was pushin' Gideon to shut his mouth an' not stir up the niggahs. Deacon was ignorin' them an' preaching 'bout empowah'ment.
An' whenever anyone axed Gideon if he shouldn't be more careful Gideon always said, "God looks out fo' his chillun."
March twenny was like any other Sunday, ceptin' hot, real hot for a day in March. We all went to church, like always. We sang an' danced an' got right with Jesus. We had sandwiches an' lemonade outside, even thought they was some muggy weather an' you could tell a storm was brewin'.
We all went home in late afternoon. Ah got some chores done, an' mah fam'ly was all settin' down to a late supper 'bout an hour after sundown when Gideon come riding down the road on his ol' horse. Hardly anybody was rich enough to own a car in town, unnerstan', they was only a few shopowners with trucks.
He shouted 'fire' an' that was all we needed. We all ran down the road to the church, mos' of us carryin' buckets so's we could toss swamp-feedin' river-water on the church.
When we got there we just stood an' stared fo' a moment.
There was a big burning cross set in the sof' green grass front o' Riverside Baptist.
Gideon let out a shout that got us movin' an' we set to, dousing that cross an' two sides o' the church that was burnin', an' thank the Lord the damage wasn't as bad as it could o' been.
Written on the front doors of the church was these words, an' ah'll never fo'get them. Heah... heah. Ah got a pen an' paper. See heah? Ah wrote it jus like they did way back when.
YOU A SMART NIGGER
BE SMART AND HERE US.
LEVE TOWN NOW
OR DIE TOMOROW
Gideon didn't pay it any mind. Mah daddy was beside hisself, sayin' his brutha done lost his natural mind, but Gideon said he wasn't 'fraid of no "Illiterate crackers who can't spell correctly."
An' ah'll never fo'get this either.
"Besides," Gideon told us. "How scary can these white boys be? They painted a message on the church door an' then tried to burn the church down. If they had burned the church down... how would we have read the message?"
Ah got to admit a whole lot of us whooped it up over that one.
An' so we went home an' the night passed, an' late the next day me an' daddy went ovah to the church to help Gideon clean up some. It was one of them gloomy days of dark clouds hangin' low. An' that's when the clan come ridin' in, an' took me an' Gideon into the swamp.
Weren't no too-do 'bout it. One minute the sun is goin' down an' me an' daddy is gatherin' charred wood an' talkin' bout just slappin' mo' whitewash on the sides o' the church or replacin' the burned boards, an' Gideon is calling out one window that we best mind the sky cause a storm is comin', an' the next thing we heah is the soft thunder of hooves on dirt an' ah get grabbed up by a big white man who smelled like cooked pork.
Ah'd say there had to be at least ten white men, some holdin' guns, some carryin' ropes an' chains. All of 'em was wearin' hoods. Not the Klan white robes an' hoods, unnerstan', but normal work clothes, khaki pants an' flannel shirts an' such. An' patchwork hoods. That looked like somethin' out of a bad dream. All them patchwork hoods of red an' yellow an' swatches of lilac an' patterns of roses an' flyin' birds an' pinstrips an' such.
Mah daddy opened his mouth to protes' and a boot clipped the side o' his haid.
The clouds were twistin' an' turnin', jus like mah guts, as ah was hoisted up over the big man's saddle.
Deacon came runnin' onto the wide front stairs o' the church an' demandin, demandin' now, that the boy, that was me, be let go.
A real big man in a hood hollered, "Take the Preacher," an' two men each grabbed one o' Gideon's arms as they rode by an' the whole group charged down a path into the swamp.
We didn't go far.
Ah heard daddy callin' out fo' help, an' far off ah' heard voices in the dusky light. They was comin', mah own people. But ah wondered if they'd come soon enough.
The horses stopped at the edge of the swamp. The trees was close there an' it was real dark an' damp. There was two shallow boats waitin' there.
Gideon an' me was hustled into sep'rate flatbottom boats an' each of us had men all round, an' holdin' us tight, a couple in each boat moving us along with long poles dippin' into the water.
"We gonna make a zample o' you two niggers," one of the men said.
In the other boat ah could already see that men was wrappin' chains around Gideon, an' ah remember part o' me thinkin' 'now there's a waste o' good steel chain an' chain ain't cheap.'
Ah felt ropes pulled round me, but loose. The men in mah boat was too busy watching the others go to work.
The boats came out into the open in a wide an' long part o' the swamp what looked more like a bogged-down river, but it wasn't any brighter cause o' the dark clouds overhead.
The wind picked up some too, sweepin' by us an' causin' the boat to lurch as some o' the men struggled to stay on there feet.
"We gonna show you how niggers is really meant to be baptized," one o' the men said, pushing Gideon right to the edge of the boat.
Gideon seemed like he was ignoring them completely. He looked 'cross the water at me an' smiled an' said, "Doan' be 'fraid none, Zack. The Lord is with you, an His vengeance shall fall hard upon these sinners an' seep them off the skin of this Earth without mercy."
"The Lord can kiss my white ass," one of the men yelled, an' they all laughed, a sound that made me feel a bit sick.
I heard chains jinglin' in a almos' happy way, an' then Gideon was shoved overboard.
He hit the water feet first, sinkin' fast, an' jus' when the water was at his neck he slowed.
"Mud," one of the men said.
"That's okay," a man in mah boat answered back. "That mud will suck 'em down slow. Jus' watch."
An' sure nuff, Gideon was sinking. But he still looked calm. He somehow got one hand free of his chains, an' instead of trying to get loose an' get away, he raised that hand up to the sky, an' he said:
"Lord, ah am a humble man, an' ah have done the best ah could to spread the word of your love. Take me, Lord, but do not take the boy. Ah call down yo' wrath, Lord God an' Sweet Jesus, that you might spare mah blood."
Gideon might have said more, but he sank under the water out o' sight, an' all the men started laughin' cause mah uncle's arm was still reaching out o' the dark water o' the swamp, reachin' fo' heaven.
An' that's when I saw it.
There was a twister comin' up the swamp.
All of us in Deacon's Hollow would find out later that the whole state of 'bama got hit by to'nadoes, an' hit hard.
Ah didn't know that then. All ah saw was my uncle's hand reaching out, an' damn if that dark, rushin' funnel, still small in the distance, didn't look like it was risin' up out of the drownin' preacher's hand.
The white men in the boats just went to pieces. They started polin' fo' the shore, but that dark funnel was comin' right onto us.
Ah got shoved over the side, but the water was shallower there an' mah ropes was loose. Ah was able to get free an' keep my haid above water.
The to'nado rushed up on us with the sound of a train comin'. Loud enough to drive a man out of his mind.
Trees was ripped out by the roots. The water of the swamp surged and leaped like it was alive. Ah saw sheets o' water movin' sideways, quite a sight, ah'll tell you.
Ah heard screams, an' ah sweah to God ah saw every last one o' them Klansmen yanked out of them there boats by that terrible roaring wind an' whisked up into the sky.
Some o' them was clutchin' at one another. Some was spinnin' like tops, pukin' on theyselves.
It was a awful sight, an' ah closed mah eyes.
When the to'nado passed, it got quiet. Then ah heard a cough.
The waters o' the swamp was gone. There wasn't nothin' but a great spread of mud an' floppin' snakes an' a whole lot o' bugs.
An' there was my uncle Gideon, stuck in mud to his waist, chokin' out water an' fallin' over on one side.
Ah took a step an' lost mah shoes in the sof' mud, and got to him fast as ah could.
Mah daddy an' a lot o' townsfolk weren't far behind.
We all got Gideon back on solid groun' an' even then the river was fillin' the swamp again.
That was a long night, chillun. A bunch o' us huddled in the church waitin' fo' mo'nin'. We kep' spectin' a to'nado to tear the church apart.
But we made it through the night to see the sun come up.
'Member now, young'uns, we was po' folk. They wasn't no TV, only a couple people in town had radios, an' news traveled slow.
We foun' out later that the whole state o' 'bama got hit hard by the to'nadoes. Lot's o' people died.
All we had in Deacon's Hollow was a few broken windows.
The Lord spared us, chillun. His love an' his grace kep' us safe, an' only He knows what happened to the men swept away.
Now they was hard times after that, sho', an' we had the blues, sho'.
Gideon kep' right on preachin' fo' yeahs an' yeahs, 'til he had a stroke an' died in his sleep. That happened jus' before ah joined the Navy, in foahty-two. Some said he put paid to the cost of callin' down the Lord, but ah saw him lyin' there before he was taken away an' he had a l'il smile on his face. He was good with God.
'Ventually some o' the fam'ly moved up here to Birmin'ham and found good work, struggled along with dear ol' Martin, and put down roots, an' here all you chillun are, safe an' smart an' ready to take on the world!
Ah nevah fo'got seein' mah uncle, the preacher man, callin' down the wrath o' God and seein' them white men suffer His vengeance.
Preacher man, storm in han'.
So 'member, chillun. Be good people. Work hard. Take care yo' fam'lies. Do all that an' the Lord will love all a yo'. Be cruel to yo' fellow man, and Lord won't look kindly on yo' all.
Now go play, chillun. Mah tale's done fo' today.
What's that, Arnold? What yo' sayin', boy?
Sho' it's true. Every word.
User Reviews
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-11-24 11:40:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
OK, UM IV contestants, THIS is what a good story look slike. This has class.
This is cool. I HATE THE FUCKING AUTHOR OF THIS STORY!!!!
Just bite me, Jack, you talented asshole....
Submitted by nrduncan (user info) at 2006-05-08 16:26:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-05-06 11:36:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I felt like I was really "gathered 'round" as I read. You always know how to tell a good story, man.
Submitted by LittleMonster (user info) at 2006-05-05 09:29:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
:)bravo!
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-05-04 19:17:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What the fuck can I say? Someday, when Jack McCallum is a
well-known writer, I can say, "Hey! I remember when he was
a puke on a funky website."
This was awesome.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-05-04 15:25:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"The Swamp That Ate Niggahs."
sounds like Oprah...
hey Jack, are you gonna finish your bus-riding/Purgatory story? That was kinda cool...
Submitted by gank (user info) at 2006-05-04 15:20:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I digged it.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-05-04 13:20:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Gawd-damn illiterit crackas is ruining Uber, theys is. :)
EXCELLENT, EXCELLENT show, Jack. Sweet holy Moses that was terrific. Really took me back to reading "Song of the South" as a kid.
Submitted by icarus1987 (user info) at 2006-05-04 12:42:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Reminded me of The Boondocks for some reason.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-05-04 12:32:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-05-04 12:21:00 (#)
Ranking: 2
Wicked. Reminded me of And The Ass Saw The Angel.
Did you ever get around to reading my 'monster' series?
--
Have it printed, just have to read it.
Shit man, I just remembered that I forgot to remember that my little niece's birthday is MONDAY and if I'm gonna continue the old Uncle Jack Birthday story tradition... that means I have 1 day to write and print and bind and get it in to FedEx.
Muthafuckah.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-05-04 12:21:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wicked. Reminded me of And The Ass Saw The Angel.
Did you ever get around to reading my 'monster' series?
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-05-04 12:16:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
They posin' fools is what they is
I pity the posin' fools
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-05-04 12:11:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Goddamn, I'm King of the Fuckups this morning.
I meant to drop in a note warning people to pass on this if a long story full of phonetic speech would drive them nuts.
Jesus.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-05-04 11:57:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Some reading on the tornadoes back then.
http://www.jamesspann.com/bmachine/wxtalk.php?print=3867
I hope I made the deadline. Goddamned weird-ass other-side-of-the-planet deadlines always confuse the shit out of me.