Chapter 7

Two days to go. Lorraine and Mimi now had enough money for the visit to the Expo, including bringing Mrs. Dupré with them as a chaperone. That is, they would have enough as soon as Lorraine spent one more afternoon caring for Keith.

Today, Keith insisted on going outside to play. Not that Lorraine blamed him for being antsy with that nice almost-summer breeze curling through the window. She held his hand as he bounced down the stairs, then they headed east on Twenty-Ninth Street toward the park.

While it wasn’t unusual to see groups of people talking outside on a sunny day, something didn’t seem right. A bunch of men stood close together, with frowns on their faces, speaking urgently and quietly. Their shoulders and backs looked weighed down and full of stress.

Farther down the path, some women watched their children play. Two sat on a bench and one stood. Their voices were sharp and angry.

“You go play with those other kids,” Lorraine said to Keith, releasing his hand. While she kept her eyes on him, she focused her ears on the nearby conversation.

“I certainly think we should listen to this young lady,” said a very pregnant woman with a pretty blue hat. She was sitting down.

“Young lady? Ha!” said an older woman in green plaid, who dug her fists into her hips as she spoke. “Some lady she is. We don’t need her kind of Black person in Chicago. We’re doing just fine on our own, thank you.”

“That’s right,” the third woman said. She pushed away the dog yapping at her gray skirt. “As a person of color, I can make up my own mind about how society is treating me.”

“Which ain’t very good, you have to admit.” The pregnant lady on the bench had a wide face and expressive eyes. Her voice dipped low at the beginning of each sentence, making Lorraine wonder if she was a singer. “Miss Ida has our best interest at heart. She’s been all over this country, fighting for our rights. Have any of you even been outside this neighborhood?”

Nobody answered.

“I didn’t think so,” the woman said. “Best you pay attention if she has something to say about the Expo.”

This was just too mysterious. After first making sure Keith was happily playing in the grass, piling up pebbles with another boy, Lorraine took a few steps toward the women. “Hello? ’Scuse me?”

All three women turned suddenly, their eyebrows lifted. “What is it, child?” asked the woman with the dog.

Sorry she’d butted in, Lorraine swallowed hard. “Um, hello. I was just wondering, is there some news about the Expo? My friend and I were planning to go on Friday.”

“Ha!” said the pregnant one with the melodic voice. “I suggest you get yourself informed, dearie. Miss Ida B. Wells has some education for the likes of you.”

“Miss who?”

“Oh, don’t pay her any mind,” said the one in the green dress. “There’s nothing to worry about. You just go and enjoy yourself.”

The pregnant woman shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “Don’t lie to her, Agnes. Young girl like this here is a part of our community. She deserves to know what’s going on.”

“So, what is going on?” Lorraine asked, more confused than ever.

The woman with the dog pointed a long, skinny arm to Lorraine’s left. “Can you read?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then read it for yourself.”

Following the woman’s finger, Lorraine saw a piece of paper tacked to the trunk of an oak tree. She started toward it and then remembered her responsibility. “Keith, come on,” she called. “Let’s go sit in the shade of that tree.”

With the boy in tow, she ran to the oak, scattering a few squirrels in the process. The largest words on the poster became clear when she was still a few feet away.

Although she didn’t understand everything on the poster, Lorraine had a bad feeling in her gut. She turned to the women gathered around the bench and considered talking to them. But they’d already gone back to arguing heatedly among themselves, and Lorraine felt awkward about breaking in. And then she had a better idea.

This Ida B. Wells person was giving a speech that very evening at Quinn Chapel, which was Mimi’s church! The only thing that made sense to Lorraine was to talk to Mimi and see if she thought it was a good idea to go to the speech.

Keith had run off, so she had to chase him down first. “I don’t wanna go home!” he wailed as she pulled him off a boulder he was trying to climb.

“Your mama will be home soon,” said Lorraine, hoping that was true. “We need to get you cleaned up before your dinner.” She was aware of dragging him too fast along the sidewalk. Eventually her arm got sore from overpowering his struggles to run back to the park. One look at his face, and she was filled with guilt. She squatted down to his level and spoke very gently. “We have to go home now, Keith. I know you don’t want to, but it’s time. I promise I’ll take you to the park next week. I promise.”

That calmed him down a bit. “Carry me?” he asked, rubbing tears from his face.

“All right, you spoiled fellow.” She hauled him up onto her hip and started down the sidewalk. “I can’t keep this up for long.” Once inside their building, she had to put him down to climb the stairs. He was getting sleepy, so she ended up practically carrying him anyway.

As she turned onto the landing of her floor, she heard a surprising voice. “Okay, well, please tell her I stopped by, Mr. Williams.” It was Mimi!

“I’m here!” shouted Lorraine.

“I’m here!” shouted Keith, which made both girls and Papa laugh.

Mimi ran a few steps to meet them halfway. “Did you hear? There’s going to be a talk at my church.”

“The Black lady who doesn’t like the fair,” Lorraine said. “Yes, I saw a poster.”

“What Black lady?” asked Papa.

“Ida something,” said Lorraine.

Papa stepped out of their apartment, eyes wide. “Ida B. Wells?”

“I think so.”

“Oh, my goodness. And she’s speaking at your church, Mimi?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Could I come and hear her as your guest?”

Mimi and Lorraine glanced at each other. Mimi said, “Well, of course. My parents want to go. Can Lorraine come too?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Papa, putting his hand on Lorraine’s shoulder. “Rainie, I’m so thrilled you’ll get to hear this brilliant young lady speak.”

Although she was glad she would get to hear the speech, Lorraine badly wanted some time alone with Mimi to discuss the situation. She could tell from Mimi’s worried face that she felt the same way. But there was no chance.

Ten minutes later, Keith’s mother came home, so Lorraine got ready for what she feared would be an upsetting evening. In the shared lavatory at the end of the hallway, she washed her face and said into the cracked mirror, “I have to go to the Expo on Friday. I just have to.”

Lorraine, Papa, and Bobby met up with Mimi and her parents a block from the church. The line to get inside reached to the corner.

“Where’s Freddy?” asked Papa, referring to the Duprés’ younger child.

“One of our neighbors is watching him,” said Mr. Dupré. “Can you believe this crowd?”

Grabbing Mimi’s elbow, Lorraine delayed her by a few steps. “What do you think is going to happen?” she whispered. “Look how strange everyone is acting.”

It was true. The snippets of conversation they overheard as they slowly filed up to and into the church had that same sense of stress that Lorraine had found at the park.

It was already hot in Quinn Chapel, and the speech hadn’t even started. The two families managed to find seats in three groups in the side balcony—Papa and Bobby, Mimi’s parents, and Lorraine and Mimi, way in the back. The inside of the chapel wasn’t quite as big as Olivet Baptist, where Lorraine went, but it still held a lot of people. Every nook and cranny had someone standing in it, and the murmurs from the restless audience made it sound more like a boxing hall than a church.

“Quiet! Quiet, please!” called a man down front.

“That’s our pastor,” Mimi explained.

“Thank you all for coming. Please settle down and give your full attention to our very special guest. Joining us all the way from Memphis, Tennessee, this young lady has been working tirelessly to improve the lot of her fellow Black people. Most recently, she has been publishing articles about the horrible practice of lynching that’s been going on in this country. She’s working tirelessly to get the laws changed and to make lynching illegal.”

A combination of cheers and passionate shouts rose up all around Lorraine. When the crowd calmed down a bit, the pastor called, “Please give a warm Chicago welcome to Miss Ida B. Wells!”

Miss Wells was a short woman with her hair pulled away from her face. She wore a gray dress with pleated lace coming from the high neckline and draping over her chest and shoulders. Even from the back of the balcony, Lorraine could see how serious her eyes were and how her jaw was set with determination.

When Miss Wells stepped forward confidently, the crowd fell silent. “I congratulate the city of Chicago on its World’s Columbian Exposition. However, I would point out that not only does it not represent everyone in the world, but it does not even represent everyone in America.” A few people murmured, and she continued. “On January 1st, 1863, the enslaved Blacks in the Confederate states were freed by the Emancipation Proclamation.” Another cheer rose. “That was thirty years ago, friends. And look at us now! Look at us prospering, being active and productive citizens, social citizens of faith. The Black American has much to be proud of.”

This drew a huge cheer that seemed to last for several minutes. Finally, it died down, and Miss Wells spoke again. “So why is there no exhibit about our great accomplishments at this so-called World’s Exposition? The fair’s management—the fair’s white management—says that the Haitian Pavilion is enough to represent all African Americans. Now, I love the people of Haiti, and I know some of them are here tonight.”

Another cheer. Mimi joined in this one, which made Lorraine smile.

“But the people of Haiti and the Haitian Americans do not represent all the people torn from Mother Africa and enslaved in America. When I brought up this fact to the management of the fair, their response was this. ‘Oh, we will schedule a special Black Person Day in August. Does that make you feel better?’ And I answered no! It does not. It’s an insult to think that just one day of this six-month Exposition is enough to honor your Black citizens. All eight million of us are an important and honorable part of your country every single day of the year!”

At this point, Miss Wells had to shout over the growing roar of the crowd. “And therefore I ask every Black person in Chicago to boycott the Exposition! Spend your money where you’re appreciated, brothers and sisters!”

Lorraine’s ears seemed to go numb. She thought she might pass out.

Thursday, June 15, 1893

Dear Diary,

I’ve been up all night crying. We went to hear Miss Ida B. Wells speak last night. She said to boycott the Expo. And Papa agrees with her. I am forbidden to go to the fair, dear diary! Tomorrow, the greatest Black singer I've ever heard is singing at the Expo, and I’m not allowed to go hear her because somehow the Expo is not paying enough attention to Black people. This makes no sense. We should all go and listen to her sing!

What am I going to do, dear diary? I feel like I’ll just keep on crying for the rest of my life. I’m so sad and so angry right now.

Love, Lorraine