C H A P T E R • 35
Some of the conversation stopped when Gary walked in.
He nodded to the Congressman and the bank president and made his way from the back, lingering, slowing down, speaking or nodding to the other mourners who had gathered to bury their friend, and the curious who had come so they could say they were there and so as not to miss anything.
When he finally arrived at the front, he was able to do what I couldn’t do and knelt in front of the casket and spent some time looking at what they’d done to Ceel.
Mrs. Miller stood up and she and Gary held each other. When they separated, Gary walked back toward us, taking the time to touch people along the way, to lay hands on them who needed it, sharing the grief.
When he got to us, I asked, “Can we talk about the bank?” It was probably rude. But I didn’t know how much time I had.
He took a few breaths and I caught something on his face as he performed a little smile. I know acting and that wasn’t bad. The stripe in his bow tie coordinated with the flush on his face.
He said, “Your name came up at the meeting about the bank. Did Adrianne tell you?”
“We haven’t talked yet.”
“The president said this week has been more difficult because of your interference.”
Mister Bell moved between us. “If you had been honest with us about what’s going on at the bank, we’d probably not be in this shape,” he said.
“In fact, I have a fiduciary responsibility to NOT report back what happens at Independence National Bank board meetings.”
“You don’t understand that you get your legitimacy from us, not the other way around,” Mister Bell said.
“You’re hopelessly stuck in the sixties,” Gary said. Then he said to me, “Also, by the way, you were mentioned again for publishing the bid list of 61 banks. First was offered for sale to those banks across the country.”
“Some other bank is buying the bank?” I asked.
“Actually, no. Nobody would buy it.”
“Is the six million dollars to purchase the assets of First coming in?”
“The money is coming in.”
“Then the bank will stay open?”
“Unless some political decision is made. This bank is critical to this community. There’s no reason to let it fold.”
“I can think of some reasons,” Mister Bell said. “Try racism and vindictiveness and pure down meanness. It’s been my experience when crackers get to make selections, they select us out.”
“Does THEY change, depending on the circumstance?” I asked. “Or is there a cadre of little men called THEY who are out to get us, like the Wizard of Oz, standing in the background, manipulating things in the ongoing plots against us?”
“Both,” Mister Bell said. “The Wizard of racism is busy. We yell at him a little, win a little, and then we go do something else until we get mad again.”
“Well, we’re mad again now. Let’s see if it makes a difference this time,” Gary said, and he went to join the group around the bank president and the congressman.
Mister Bell pointed to the congressman. “And it’s a way to punish him.”
“Look at him. Is this what the civil rights movement got us?” I said. “Is another black congressman really supposed to do it for us?”
“We need him to do what he does.”
“And what is that?”
“He brings home the bacon. He’s now near the front of the line to get us our share of whatever they’re giving away in D.C.”
“But whatever they’re giving away is not enough of what we need and he hasn’t changed that.” I had a mouth full of comeback; I had made this point before. “We don’t even see him unless there’s an election and many of his constituents don’t even eat swine. If he’s so good, why does Harlem look like it does?”
“He deals with an even stronger strain of racism than we do,” Mister Bell said. “Don’t underestimate him. Things are changing. I think it will look sudden. But the groundwork is being laid right now.”
Attorney Robinson handed me a leather clutch. “Here’s your cash. I expect it back on Tuesday.”
I motioned to Adrianne and gave her the payroll. Then I nodded toward the president’s group who were deep in conversation. “I need to join them over there while they’re willing to talk,” I told her.
“The president is not going to talk to you,” Adrianne said. “You know that, don’t you?”
“But he is going to say something quotable. How could he not?”
Mister Bell said, “Just remember, he had a hell of a job trying to find his footing in the quicksand he found at the bank. And I doubt he ever planned to get old and grey at our colored bank.”
“Good quote. Can I quote you?”
“Of course. I’m on the record now that the secrets have all been told.”
“Not all. We’re going to publish a rich special edition Tuesday.”
Adrianne gave me a thumb’s up.
Mister Bell went back down to the front of the room to join Mrs. Miller in front of Cecelia. Gary said some beautiful words in a broken voice. Someone I didn’t know sang “Amazing Grace.”
And Adrianne was wrong, the bank president gave me a good quote: “Now you see what we are up against. This is a strong but battered community under siege. We need to work as one community with one mission.”