by August Wilson
All the big money invested in gentrifying the Hill District into a mall and upscale housing hits a snag when OLD JOE, sixties, refuses to sell his family home. As he tells HARMON—the politician in charge of the gentrification—his small home means as much to him as the flag he fought for.
Scene
The Bedford Hills Redevelopment Office in the Hill District, Pittsburgh, PA
Time
1997.
OLD JOE
That’s a nice pin. Nice colors. The Red White and Blue. We had a flag during the war. Company B, Fourth Battalion. Fellow named Joe Mott carried the flag. He got shot in the head on the second of November 1942. He was betting against it but lost.
Lots of men died under that flag. That American flag was everywhere. Joe Mott carried it into battle but it was everywhere. In the mess hall. In the dance hall. We had a great big mess hall and they would bring the women in from the town and we’d have a great big old dance. You look up and there would be that flag hanging behind the bandstand. That flag was everywhere. You saw it in the morning when you woke up and you saw it at night before you went to bed. Sometimes you saw it in your sleep. When the time come and I saw Joe Mott fall with that flag . . . shot right through the head . . . bullet went in one end and come out the other . . . I don’t know where it went after that. When I saw him fall I said, “No, I ain’t gonna let you get away with nothing like that.” That’s what I said when I picked up that flag. This the flag on this side of the battle. That’s what side I’m on. Joe Mott ain’t died for nothing. If his life don’t mean nothing, then my life don’t mean nothing. I had sense enough to see that. A lot of people can’t see that. I can’t let him die and let the flag lay there. I was the closest one to it. I didn’t even think about it. I just picked it up. I picked it up and carried it right up to the day I got discharged. December 4, 1945. I got out the army and went and saw Joe Mott’s mother. She lived down in Georgia. I went down there and saw her. Walking down the street a white fellow stopped me. Reached up and tore my flag off my coat. Told me I ain’t had no right to walk around with an American flag. I hope they let you keep yours.