Hard Revolution_ A Novel Part 35

"True. But I'm not gonna leave Mike shorthanded. And your mother's got her obligations, too." Darius looked at his wrist.w.a.tch. "I better get goin'. I need to fire up that grill."

Darius got up from his seat, went to Alethea, and kissed her on the edge of her mouth. He took his jacket off a limb of the coat tree and put it on. Derek followed him to the door.

"You remember what I told you," said Darius. "You mind yourself out there."

"I'll do my best."

Darius eyed Derek up and down. "You got tested, didn't you?"

"You know know I did. I got called every name in the book by my own kind. I got looked at with hate by folks who been looked down on their whole lives, just like me. I'm tellin' you, there were times when I felt like joining those people last night." I did. I got called every name in the book by my own kind. I got looked at with hate by folks who been looked down on their whole lives, just like me. I'm tellin' you, there were times when I felt like joining those people last night."

"You want the truth?" said Darius. "I felt like joining them, too."

"Why didn't you, then?"

"'Cause that's not me. Doesn't mean I can't recognize that what happened last night was necessary. People gonna listen now. They have have to." to."

"So what do I I do?" do?"

"You made a commitment," said Darius. "Folks always gonna respect you for that, even if they say different."

"What are you tellin' me?"

"Do your job."

Darius hugged Derek and patted his back. He nodded to Alethea before heading out the door.

Derek took his seat at the table again and sipped his coffee. "Anyone call me?"

"You mean Carmen?"

"Anyone."

"Carmen didn't call." Alethea reached across the table and touched Derek's hand. "Go get a shower while I make you some breakfast."

Derek took off his uniform in his brother's bedroom and folded it neatly, placing it on a chair. He showered and changed into pants and a shirt that were Dennis's and smelled like Dennis. As he dressed, his mother used some grease from an old Wilkin's coffee can to fry bacon and eggs in a skillet. She served them along with toast, hot sauce, and another cup of coffee as Derek came back to the table. She sat and watched him eat.

"You need a ride?" said Derek, sopping up the yolk of the eggs with a triangle of toast.

"I'm gonna catch the uptown bus," she said. "You finish your breakfast and get yourself into bed. I want you to sleep."

Derek did as he was told. He fell asleep quickly in his brother's bed and did not hear his mother leave the house.

THIRTY-ONE.

ON FRIDAY MORNING, Strange slept soundly. As he slept, commuters from the suburbs drove cars and rode buses to their downtown jobs. One hundred fifty thousand students and teachers reported to D.C. public schools, which had been decreed open by Mayor Washington after he had conferred with school superintendent William R. Manning. It was decided that activities related to the annual Cherry Blossom Festival would also go on as planned. Despite the rioting of the night before, public officials and police administrators expected it to be a quiet day. Strange slept soundly. As he slept, commuters from the suburbs drove cars and rode buses to their downtown jobs. One hundred fifty thousand students and teachers reported to D.C. public schools, which had been decreed open by Mayor Washington after he had conferred with school superintendent William R. Manning. It was decided that activities related to the annual Cherry Blossom Festival would also go on as planned. Despite the rioting of the night before, public officials and police administrators expected it to be a quiet day.

From the start, there were indications that this would not be so.

All night and into the morning, tales had spread throughout the city of the exploits of the Shaw rioters and looters. They spread via phone and ghetto telegraph: street talk at bus stops, in living rooms, at corner markets, and at predawn pickup points for day laborers. The stories became romanticized with each telling; they fired up the anger, imagination, spirit of adventure, and ambition of the young.

Many black working-cla.s.s men and women, along with black government workers, managers, and bureaucrats, stayed home from their jobs. Black teachers, and some white teachers, called in sick in protest or asked outright to be excused from work so they could attend memorial services for Dr. King.

Shortly after the opening bell, school officials began to report ma.s.sive student absences, as well as a general unruliness and insubordination among the students who had reported to cla.s.s. An SNCC official tried to persuade Superintendent Manning to close the schools, but he did not. As the morning went on, increasingly frustrated princ.i.p.als, some with panic in their voices, reported that the situation was deteriorating and claimed that the students could no longer be controlled.

Based on history, officials believed that riots occurred, for the most part, at night, after extended lulls in activity during the daylight hours. Accordingly, D.C. National Guardsmen had been ordered to be prepared for possible action on Friday night and were in the early stages of a.s.semblage at the downtown armory. The CDU riot police were not due to report back until five p.m. Also, because of the relative quiet at dawn, many cops working double shifts had been dismissed early. Consequently, on Friday morning, police presence on the street was not noticeably heavier than it was on any other day.

Youths began congregating and drifting in roving bands on 14th and 7th Street, along H Street Northeast, and in east-of-the-river Anacostia. They stood in the doorways of retail establishments and taunted white store owners and clerks who had reported in for work. They shook the cars of white drivers stopped at red lights. A young white man was dragged from his automobile on 14th Street and brutally beaten. His life was saved by a Catholic priest.

Just below the apartment house of Derek Strange, at 13th and Clifton, the students at Cardozo High School began to walk out of cla.s.ses. By midday, half of them had left the grounds. Along with students of other nearby high schools, many joined their friends on 14th and 7th Streets. Some walked to the grounds of Howard University, where Stokely Carmichael was scheduled to speak.

At a news conference that morning, Carmichael had said, "When white America killed Dr. King last night, she declared war on us. There will be no crying and there will be no funeral." And: "There no longer needs to be intellectual discussion. Black people know that they have to get guns. White America will live to cry that she killed Dr. King last night."

At Howard U, there had been an early service for faculty and students in Crampton Auditorium. Following a speech by university president James Nabrit, a choir led the attendees in Brahms's Requiem, Requiem, along with "Precious Lord," which Dr. King had asked to be sung at Thursday night's gathering moments before he was shot. The final song, "We Shall Overcome," was reportedly less well received. Many young people in the Crampton audience refused to sing along. along with "Precious Lord," which Dr. King had asked to be sung at Thursday night's gathering moments before he was shot. The final song, "We Shall Overcome," was reportedly less well received. Many young people in the Crampton audience refused to sing along.

Afterward, outside the steps of Frederick Dougla.s.s Hall, a more aggressive rally had begun, as speakers stepped up to denounce white racism to an audience of several hundred listeners. The crowd was heavy with serious faces, black turtlenecks, fatigue jackets, goatees and Vand.y.k.es, naturals, and shades. The American flag, flying at half-mast, was lowered, and the flag of Ujamma, a campus Black Nationalist organization that advocated a separate black nation, was raised. A female speaker came out against nonviolent response. "I might die violently," she said. "But I am going to take a honky with me." Stokely Carmichael, in sungla.s.ses and fatigues, stepped up to the microphone next.

In the crowd stood Carmen Hill. She had been up half the night with her friends discussing the events and watching them unfold on TV. Most of her friends were in favor of the violence that had erupted Thursday night. None of them had partic.i.p.ated. She had called Derek twice during the night at his apartment to make sure he was all right. There had been no response.

Carmen knew intellectually that what had happened, what was going to happen, had been coming for some time. She was a black woman, and in her heart she stood with her people. Like many young black people, she felt invigorated and emboldened by the response to the King a.s.sa.s.sination. She was also afraid.

Carmen listened to Carmichael's speech. She watched him produce a gun from his jacket and wave it above his head, as he had on 14th Street the night before.

"Stay off the streets if you don't have a gun," said Carmichael, "because there is going to be shooting."

Carmen thought of Derek and prayed to G.o.d to keep him safe.

A LITTLE AFTER noon, on 14th Street, just south of U, a fire broke out at the local Safeway. Four minutes later, eleven blocks north of the grocery store, a mob of young men set fire to a clothing store on the corner of Harvard Street. noon, on 14th Street, just south of U, a fire broke out at the local Safeway. Four minutes later, eleven blocks north of the grocery store, a mob of young men set fire to a clothing store on the corner of Harvard Street.

Firemen and available police were called back down to 14th.

Almost immediately, teenagers and young men, who had been gathering all morning on the strip, began to initiate further activity. Fires were set in Belmont TV, the London Custom Shop, and Judd's Pharmacy, which had already been damaged and looted the night before. As firemen tried to hook up their hoses to hydrants, they were bricked, a.s.saulted, and verbally abused, protected only by small groups of baton-wielding police who had arrived on the scene. The fires spread to the apartments above and the tenement buildings behind the stores. The Worthmore Clothing store on Park Road began to burn.

The mob moved from one spot to the next, undaunted by tear gas canisters and gas grenades. They began to break into stores between Columbia and Park Road, a retail strip of chain and white-owned businesses. They used small missiles and trash cans, and kicked in windows with their feet. They uprooted street signs and used them as battering rams. Rioters swarmed into the Lerner's and Grayson's dress stores, Irving's Men's Shop, Carousel, Kay Jewelers, Beyda's, Cannon Shoes, Howard Clothes, Mary Jane Shoes, Woolworth's, and the G.C. Murphy's five-and-dime.

Many black business owners had spray-painted or soap-written the words "Soul Brother" on their store windows or doors in the early morning hours. Many of these businesses were spared.

Middle-aged men and women began to loot. Families stole together. Parents and their children carted entire dining-room, bedroom, and living-room sets out of the Hamilton and Jordan Fine Furniture store at Euclid.

"Animals," said one policeman, standing impotently on a street corner as a father and his sons carried clothing, still on hangers, on their backs, laughing as they walked without fear of reprisal down 14th. The cop could only watch. Few arrests were being made. The police were outnumbered and completely unprepared.

Molotov c.o.c.ktails were concocted in alleys and thrown from sidewalks. Hahn's shoe store burned after being picked clean. Beyda's burned. Hoses lay serpentine in the street as firemen scrambled to find water sources amid the jeers and general confusion.

The G.C. Murphy's was engulfed in a tremendous, raging blaze. Two teenage boys were trapped in the fire. Both died. One was burned beyond recognition and never identified.

Three hours after the first arson at noon, a large portion of 14th Street above U was on fire. By now, other parts of the city had begun to experience the same kind of devastation as Shaw.

Police officials called all available officers to duty and ordered scheduled late-shifters to report immediately as well. Lydell Blue arrived on 14th in a squad car packed with five men. He stepped out of the car, wide-eyed, and drew his stick.

DEREK STRANGE HEARD a phone ringing in his parents' living room. He fell back to sleep. The phone began to ring again and continued to ring until he got off the bed, his head unclear, and answered the call. a phone ringing in his parents' living room. He fell back to sleep. The phone began to ring again and continued to ring until he got off the bed, his head unclear, and answered the call.

The rioting, looting, and burning had spread to 7th Street and the H Street corridor in Northeast. Ed Burns, his duty officer, was on the line, telling him that he was needed. He'd been trying to reach Strange at his apartment and was now using the alternate number Strange had left on file.

"You don't have to do this," said Burns. "I know what you been through these past few days. I hated to even call you up, but I'm callin' everyone, understand?"

"I'm fine," said Strange, thinking of Alvin Jones, thinking of where Kenneth Willis had said he'd be. "I'm right off Georgia Avenue, just a couple of miles north of Seventh. I'll head down there now."

"Good luck."

Strange went to the stove in the kitchen and used a straight match to light the gas of one of the burners, where his mother had left half a pot of coffee. He returned to the living room and turned on the television news.

Fourteenth Street was burning. Hundreds of youths were reported to be moving south on 7th Street, looting and starting fires. The Charles Macklin Furniture Store, at O, had been looted and was now aflame. Crowds were forming on H Street, where a liquor store was on fire. Sporadic burning and looting had begun east of the Anacostia River. In the downtown shopping district, the Hecht's and Woodward and Lothrop's flagship stores had shut down and carpenters had boarded their windows after youths ran through the aisles, stealing small items and yelling obscenities and threats at customers and clerks.

Strange got a cup of hot black coffee, came back out to the phone, and looked up the number of the Washington Sanitarium in the book. The receptionist put him through to Troy Peters's room. He told Troy about his night and relayed the current situation.

"I'm watching it on TV," said Peters. "The reporter said that LBJ's gonna call in the army and the guard."

"You're gonna miss all the action."

"Looks like I caught a lucky bullet."

"I guess you did. You, who wanted to be on that welcome wagon come revolution time."

"It shouldn't have happened like this."

"Wasn't but one way for for it to happen. Everybody saw the fuse burnin', but they turned their heads away." it to happen. Everybody saw the fuse burnin', but they turned their heads away."

"Listen . . ."

"Lotta people sorry now," said Strange. "I gotta get to work."

"Take care of yourself, Derek."

"You, too."

Strange built a sandwich, not knowing when he'd get his next meal, and washed it down with two gla.s.ses of water. He drank another cup of coffee while he got back into his uniform in his brother's room. The uniform stank of last night's dirt and sweat. He fastened his utility belt around his waist, patted his handcuffs at the small of his back, and felt for the backup ammo in his dump pouch. He pushed his nightstick down through its loop. He checked the load of his .38 and slipped it into his swivel holster. He looked at his brother's unmade bed before walking back out to the living room and picking up the phone.

Strange called his father at the diner. He told him that he was going in and suggested that his father get back home.

"I'm leaving now," said Darius. "Mike's about to close."

"What about Mama?"

"I called her at the Vaughns'. She says that Frank Vaughn's heading into town. He's gonna drive her in."

"Vaughn's okay," said Strange. "He'll make sure she gets in safe."

"Right."

"I might be out here for a while, Pop. I don't want y'all to worry about me."

"I'll see you at supper on Sunday," said Darius, trying to steady the catch in his voice.

"I'll be there," said Strange.

He left the apartment, went down Princeton, and turned left on Georgia Avenue. He walked south, hearing the sirens of police cars and fire trucks coming from all directions. A young man yelled something angrily at him from a pa.s.sing car, and Strange did not react. He stopped for a moment at the crest of the long hill that descended along Howard University and looked down to the Florida Avenue intersection, where Georgia became 7th Street. People swarmed in the canyon there under a smoke-dark sky.

THIRTY-TWO.

OUTSIDE THE THREE-STAR Diner, on Kennedy Street, young men stood on the sidewalk, occasionally looking through the plate-gla.s.s window, alternately laughing and hard-eyeing Mike Georgelakos and his son, Billy, both behind the counter. Mike knew all of them by sight and many by name; he knew their parents and had served a few of their grandparents as well. Diner, on Kennedy Street, young men stood on the sidewalk, occasionally looking through the plate-gla.s.s window, alternately laughing and hard-eyeing Mike Georgelakos and his son, Billy, both behind the counter. Mike knew all of them by sight and many by name; he knew their parents and had served a few of their grandparents as well.

Darius Strange had used a brick to clean the grill, left his toque lying on the sandwich board, and was in the process of putting on his jacket. Ella Lockheart had finished filling the ketchup bottles and the salt and pepper shakers, and now sat on one of the red stools, applying lipstick that she had taken from her purse. Halftime, the dishwasher and utility man, had phoned in sick.

"Mavri," said Mike with disgust, looking at the kids. said Mike with disgust, looking at the kids.

"Dad," said Billy.

"What the h.e.l.l," said Mike.

Darius had heard all the bad Greek words come from Mike's mouth over the years. He knew that mavri, mavri, in all its variations, meant black people, and usually when Mike added something before or after, or did that curling thing with his lip, its meaning was negative and foul. in all its variations, meant black people, and usually when Mike added something before or after, or did that curling thing with his lip, its meaning was negative and foul.

Darius's and Ella's eyes met for a moment. She dropped her lipstick into her purse.

"I'm gonna be gettin' on," said Ella.

"You need a ride?" said Darius.

"No, thank you," said Ella. "I'll walk."

"I'm gonna call you both," said Mike, "let you know about tomorrow. I'm hopin' this here is gonna blow over and we're gonna open up."

Ella went out the door without a word. Darius watched her walk down the sidewalk through the group of kids, which parted to let her pa.s.s.

"You better get goin'," said Mike.

"You, too," said Darius.