The Forged Note. Micheaux Oscar

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СКАЧАТЬ one Sunday morning, after being told that the custodian of the building could be found in his office on the fourth floor, he betook himself thither.

      But let us pause for a moment, and retrace a long span of years, that we may interest ourselves in the history of this same structure. For it has a fascinating tale to tell.

      * * * * *

      Before freedom came to the black people of the south, pious worship had begun. Despite the fact that it was an offense to teach Negroes during that dark period, or in any way to be responsible for allowing them to teach themselves, many, nevertheless, did learn to read; and perhaps because the slave-owners were inclined to be God-fearing people, they did not, in a general sense, openly object when they found many of their slaves worshipping. So it happened that, since men were in the majority of those who learned to read, the first channel to which they diverted this knowledge was preaching. And since, as above mentioned, they were not always forbidden, worshipping the Christ among Negroes had been practiced long before freedom came. Therefore, after freedom, preaching became the leading profession among the men.

      The reader is perhaps well acquainted with the pious emotion of the Negro; our story will not dwell at length upon this; but the fact that, to become a preacher as a professional pursuit, was the easiest and most popular vocation; and from the fact, further, that Negroes had become emotionally inclined from fear in one sense and another, so that it is inherent, preaching and building churches swept that part of the country like wildfire.

      Of the different sects, the Baptist seemed to require the least training in order to afford the most emotion. All that was required, in a measure, to become a Baptist preacher, was to be a good "feeler" and the practiced ability to make others feel.

      History proves that people of all races (when still not far removed from savagery) are inclined toward display. This is an inherent nature of Negroes. Indeed, Negroes of today, in many instances those who have graduated from the best colleges, seem yet largely endowed with this trait, as this story will show later.

      So, shortly after preaching and shouting became the custom, another feature entered which permitted these people more "feeling," and this was lodges, secret societies and social fraternities. These, like everything else—omitting possibly the extreme "feeling" exercised during religious worship—was patterned after white custom; but, insofar as the Negro is concerned, a great deal more stress and effort and feeling was put into the things mentioned. In a sense, they were the Negroes all.

      Naturally, these many lodges, etc., must have some object. And that object for years, was irrevocably, to care for the sick and bury the dead.

      Our story will be concerned with the United Order of the AAASSSSBBBBGG, which, for the purpose of this story, will answer as well as the real name, and will be much easier to refer to.

      The AAASSSSBBBBGG, is one of the oldest lodges in Dixie, having been in operation among the black people for generations. And its great object was, until a few years ago, to "ce'h fo' the sick 'n' bu'y the dead."

      In the course of events, there had been elected to a very conspicuous position in this same lodge, a man with a square jaw. He was of medium height and build, but aggressive, very much so, in fact, a born fighter. Happily, the latter trait was peculiarly necessary to the one who held the office of grand secretaryship in this lodge—and to this office Dickson fell heir.

      Now Dickson was no ordinary Negro. He was ambitious, not the kind that is likely to be satisfied with the past duties of the order. Because, and it might be well to mention so strange a coincidence: This lodge had not been able to spend all the money that had come into the treasury for burial purposes. So the reserve totalled $40,000 cash. It was confidentially whispered that the officers, a united click, preceding Dickson, had calmly planned, when this amount reached $50,000, to grab it all, and start a colony—for themselves, of course, in Africa. But, alas! enters Dickson, the determined, the ambitious. And if anything can serve to disturb an order like this, it is ambition. In all the years of its existence, the slogan had been to crucify ambition religiously, but Dickson crucified them. At this time, at least, they were relegated to the scrub timber, where they lay dreaming of a time never to return, for "the old order changeth."

      In addition to the office of grand secretary, Dickson was an editor, and before the moss-backs had realized it, some years before, he was editing the official mouthpiece, The Independent. They thought little of this, in fact, they didn't care, because, in the first place, no one else cared for that job; it required too much thought to edit a paper that the members would be likely to read. The Independent had come out at spasmodic intervals, reporting, in detail, the death of Miss Sallie Doe, "a member in good standing, who had met her Jesus on the altar of evermore;" or, that Jim Johnson, another member, "had been incarcerated in the county jail, along with many others, for disturbing the peace;" or, that at the revival at the Antioch Baptist church, of which Brother Jasper was the pastor, "a soul stirring revival is going on with scores 'gittin' right with Jesus'," etc., etc., etc. But its greatest ambition, apparently, had been to come before the people, guaranteed not to be read.

      So fancy, when, after getting control, Dickson "did it all over." The Independent became "some" paper. It fairly ripped and snorted. It took up the instances of officers that were sluggish and backward and slow, and made great headlines. "Whew!" the members cried, who had never read the paper before. While others declared: "Ah allus knowed dat nigga's crazy!" But everybody began reading the paper. They objected and scrambled and stewed about what was said, called him the biggest liar, bull-dozer, and everything else, but read the paper. So the circulation doubled and trebled and quadrupled, and then doubled all over again, until it was reaching every "live" member of the order. Dickson didn't care whether it reached the others or not, and he told them so; moreover, he said—in not so many words, but it was read between the lines,—that they could go to Hell. They took the paper then.

      There came a time at last when the treasury was reeking with Sam's good gold, and Dickson had more enemies than could be counted readily. But Dickson was wise. He had looked deeply into the condition and inborn weakness of these black creatures, and had surmised that they only patronized each other when they mutually hated. If they loved one another, they were allowed to starve to death undisturbed.

      He saw that Negroes would only build and occupy an office when the white man refused to rent him anything but the attic—and not even that sometimes. So, with a flare, a blaze and a roar, out came The Independent, and said that the AAASSSSBBBBGG lodge had decided to erect an office building of its own. It was to be six stories in height, of brick, with stone cornices, and what not. Moreover, a picture of it completed appeared on the front page of The Independent. That finished it! They prepared to send him to the mad-house, and forthwith gathered for that purpose, which was what Dickson wanted. They arrived in twos, threes and fours, and then in droves. To the tune and number of thousands they came and were met (?) by a brass band! And away went the music: "Ta-ra—ta—ta-ti-rip-i-ta-ta-ta-tu!" It got into the Negro blood. Music, of all things, always has effect. Before they were aware of it, they were cake-walkin' and doin' the grizzly bear, and it has also been whispered confidentially, that two preachers, high and mighty in the order, "balled the jack." The music stopped for a spell. Through the crowd—the black crowd—came a cry, "Arrah! Arrah! for the Negro, the greatest race since the coming of Christ!" And it was answered: "Arrah! Arrah! So we is. Who said we wasn't!" "The white man!" came back the reply. "He's a liah!" went back the words heatedly. "If so, then," came back, "why do we continue to do our business in his attic? Why?" This was a shock. But before recovery, sayeth the cry: "$50,000 odd we have in the treasury to care for the sick and bury the dead! With $60,000 more we can have a building all our own, with elevators and mirrors and a thousand things, with our own girls to tickle the type and scratch on the books." A wild dream flitted across the minds of these black men, the underdogs, the slaves for a thousand years; their wives, the cooks and the scrub СКАЧАТЬ