Chapter 3

On a Wednesday night, ten days before the Haitian Club Singers were scheduled to sing at the Expo, Lorraine walked with Mimi to rehearsal.

“Does your father mind that you’re coming with me tonight?” Mimi asked.

“I don’t think he minds.” Lorraine was glad to have something to talk about as they made their way along South Wabash Avenue toward Quinn Chapel. The idea of learning a bunch of new songs made her a bit nervous. “He loves it when I sing, so as long as this is about singing, he’s fine with it.”

“And what about going to the Expo? Is he okay with that?”

“Let’s not put the cart before the horse, Mimi. We don’t know for sure that I am going with you. I don’t read music, and I can’t sing in French or Creole, so I might make you folks sound terrible. Oh, and another important thing: I’m not Haitian. Don’t you think the members of your choir might notice that?”

“They will, but the audience won’t. As my Tante Louise likes to say, all dark skin is the same color to folks who don’t have it themselves.” Both girls laughed at that.

They were coming up on the Quinn Chapel, the largest Black church in Chicago. The façade of pale-gray stones seemed to stretch up to the clouds, and Lorraine felt very small. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Taking her hand, Mimi pulled her toward a side entrance with stairs leading downward. “Try not to worry. Just come in and say hello. If you feel like singing, that’s great. If not, then maybe we can figure out another way for you to come with us.”

“As far as I’m concerned, she can come with us,” a familiar voice behind them said. Lorraine turned to find Mimi’s mother, Rozalie Dupré, stepping up behind them. Mrs. Dupré gave the girls a friendly smile. “I don’t see why we can’t sneak you in,” she said.

“You don’t think it’s immoral?” asked Lorraine, who was surprised to have Mrs. Dupré’s support. “You don’t think it’s a lie if I pretend to be in your choir?”

“What lie?” Mrs. Dupré pointed up at the church’s spire and cross. “The good Lord knows how you love to sing His praises. And He knows how much you want to see the fair. I see no lie, dear Lorraine.”

In the church basement, the mood was warm excitement. Shy around all the new people, Lorraine stuck close to Mimi, smiling and waving when she was introduced to the choristers. Around her, folks were speaking a rapid mix of French, English, and a language she didn’t recognize.

Without anyone making a formal announcement, a strong, slow beat started. Some people clapped their hands. Some stamped their feet. And they started to sing. A short, round man with gray hair waved his arms in time as the group gathered together in the center of the room.

Although she had no idea what they were singing about, Lorraine was stunned by the strength and beauty of the sound. Feeling more at peace than she had in quite a while, she swayed and clapped along, humming a bit to the parts she could catch on to.

The rehearsal continued without a single hymn or spiritual Lorraine knew. She’d already given up on the idea of singing at the fair with these wonderful people. But it was so much fun to spend an evening with them that she didn’t mind. And then things got even better. A mouthwatering scent drifted into the room, followed by a woman carrying a big covered tray, which she set on a table. After a couple more songs, people started wandering over to the table and helping themselves to whatever heavenly treat was on that tray.

It smelled like spices, salt, fry-grease, a bakery, and a barbeque, all in one. Lorraine had eaten only a small plate of plain beans and bread for dinner, and that smell made her feel like she hadn’t eaten in days.

“Want a beef patty, dear?” Mrs. Dupré asked quietly. “You’re very welcome to have one. Mimi, take our guest up to the table and show her some Haitian hospitality.”

The outside of the beef patty was crunchy pastry dough, salty and glistening with oil. Once Lorraine’s teeth cracked through the crisp shell and soft bread, they sank into a steaming, spicy ground-beef filling that made her eyes water. She was trying to figure out how to quit her own church choir and join this one when the choir’s director stepped up beside her. Beads of sweat stood on his forehead after all that arm-waving in the stuffy room.

“Hello, Lorraine, I am Mr. Gérome. Mrs. Dupré has told me about you. How long have you been friends with our dear Miss Mimi?”

“Since we were eight, sir,” said Lorraine, hurriedly brushing crumbs from her face. “Thank you for having me here tonight. The choir sounds wonderful.”

“Well, thank you. You seem like a very nice girl. As far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to be an honorary member of our choir. Mrs. Leroy—that’s the lady in the green dress over there—is going to lend you a robe. You come on time with Mimi and Mrs. Dupré on the morning of May 27, and we’ll all act like you’re one of us. Sound good?”

“Oh, Mr. Gérome, I don’t know how to thank you!”

“I do,” he said with a sudden grin. “I’m told you love to sing.”

“It’s my favorite thing in the world,” Lorraine said.

Mr. Gérome suddenly stepped back, clapped his hands loudly, and bellowed, “Hush now, everyone. Our visitor, Miss Lorraine, is going to sing a song for us. She’s been listening to our music, and now it’s our turn to hear hers.”

Lorraine brushed the crumbs off her blouse and skirt and took a quick drink from a glass of water that Mimi held out. There was no one to play piano for her, but Lorraine didn’t mind. She closed her eyes and sang the first verse of one of her favorite hymns, “With Joy We Hail the Sacred Day”:

With joy we hail the sacred day

Which God has called His own.

With joy the summons we obey

To worship at His throne.

As she sang, she forgot she was among strangers. By the time she’d finished the fifth verse, the whole room was clapping and stomping, humming along, and calling out praises in French and English. Lorraine felt like she’d known these friendly people all her life.

The day finally arrived. May 27 was gloriously sunny. Dressed in her favorite yellow dress, the one she saved for church and special occasions, Lorraine couldn’t stop smiling as she started to say goodbye to Papa. He seemed agitated. “You stick with the group,” he said. “You do what Mrs. Dupré tells you. And here’s a dime so you can get some lunch.”

She felt his hand shake when she took the coin from him. Nothing about this felt normal, and suddenly she was as nervous as he was. “It will be fine, Papa. And thank you for the money. Are you sure you have it to spare? Mimi said her mother would buy us both lunch. And the church has hired a wagon to take us to the Expo, so we don’t have to pay for the elevated train or a cable car.”

“No, it’s fine, Rainie girl. You take the money. Only watch it close, you hear? You can be sure there’s pickpockets and swindlers swarming all over the fairgrounds.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise. Now, I made a stew out of the old onions and carrots Mr. Grover sold us for half price yesterday. That should keep you and Bobby fed for the rest of the day.”

Papa shook his finger at her. “You be home before dark, young miss!”

“I’ll try. But you don’t have to worry. I’ll be with the Duprés and all the folks from the choir. They’re real nice people, I promise.”

Finally, Papa smiled. “All right, you beauty. You sing your heart out and have a real nice time.”

She didn’t bother to explain that she probably wouldn’t be doing much singing herself. After kissing him on the cheek and waving to her brother, she tore out of the apartment and was down the stairs and out on the street within seconds. Being careful not to scuff her best patent-leather shoes, she half-skipped the three blocks to the corner where Mimi and her mother were waiting for her.

The trip on the hired horse-drawn wagon was joyous. Several choristers had brought cheese bread and sweet rolls to save money on food. Lorraine gratefully accepted every bite that was shared with her. She wasn’t sure the dime Papa had so generously given her would buy much at the Expo. And anyway, she had a feeling there would be other things besides food to spend it on.

Soon the majestic entrance of the Expo came into view.

“It looks like a magical kingdom from a book,” someone said. “I’d like to live there forever, and never return to my cramped little apartment.”

“You got that right,” said someone else, and others agreed.

Mr. Gérome led them on foot to a special entrance for participants. A fantastic band was playing up a storm, and people hawked programs and toys in every direction—and they weren’t even inside the fair yet! Lorraine held her breath as the security guard looked them over. She felt Mimi’s fingers wrap around hers, and Lorraine remembered the plan: stay quiet. As long as she didn’t speak, no one would suspect she wasn’t Haitian and didn’t belong to the choir.

They were instructed to follow as straight a path as possible from the Fifty-Ninth Street entrance to the Haitian Pavilion. Lorraine let herself be dragged along while she gawked at the gleaming white buildings, the painted signs, the vendors. And so many people!