TRAIN TRACKS & BLACK FACES. Pt. 3

Pt. 3

AND AFTER RECOVERING FROM THEIR SHOCK, AND ACKNOWLEDGING THE TEMPORARY COLOR OF THEIR SKIN, HENRY AND EARL REALIZED THE DEPOT MANAGER HAD MISTAKEN THEM FOR BLACK MEN. OF COURSE, SEGREGATION WAS ALIVE, AND WELL IN THE 3rd DECADE OF THE 20th CENTURY, AND PEOPLE OF COLOR HAD BEEN ASSAULTED AND EVEN KILLED FOR SUCH INDISCRETIONS AS THEIRS.

Earl spoke first,

“Oh, no sir, it’s not what you think it is. We aren’t N_ _ _ _ _ s. We’re white boys.”

AND BEFORE THE MIDDLE-AGED ACCUSER COULD CONTINUE HIS TIRADE, HENRY ADDED A BIT OF CRUCIAL INFORMATION.

“What my friend says is true, mister. We rode all night on the top of that train sitting out there. Right behind the locomotive. And we can’t seem to get this soot off our skin. Look here.”

AND HENRY TOOK THE OPPORTUNITY TO RUB HIS HAND ACROSS THE COUNTER TOP; LEAVING BEHIND A NASTY BLACK STREAK.

SUDDENLY, THE EYES OF THE STATION MANAGER GREW WIDE, AND A SMILE BROKE OUT ON HIS FACE.

The stranger continued,

“Well, I do declare. You boys certainly got yourself in a pickle! Never fear. We’ll get you cleaned up, and send you on your way.”

BY THIS TIME ALL THREE OF THE MEN WERE LAUGHING, AND THE RAILROAD MAN MOTIONED THEM TO FOLLOW HIM TO A NEARBY STORAGE CLOSET.

“Sorry I called you what I thought you were, but you ain’t.”

AND HANDING THEM A BOTTLE OF GREEN LIQUID, HE ASSURED THEM THAT THE STUFF WOULD STRIP THE BARK OFF A TREE. AND HAVING SMEARED A LIBERAL AMOUNT OF THE DETERGENT ON THEIR FACES AND ARMS, AND HAVING PROCEEDED TO SCRUB THEIR SKIN WITH SOME OLD RAGS WHICH THE DEPOT MANAGER GAVE THEM, HENRY AND EARL REASSUMED THEIR LOST IDENTITIES.

AND BEFORE MUCH MORE TIME ELAPSED THE YOUNG MISADVENTURERS MADE THEIR WAY BACK HOME; NONE THE WORSE FOR WEAR, AND HAVING LEARNED A HARD, AND BITTER LESSON.

by William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 35. Copyright pending

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