17
Landon walked down The Stroll with Nettie as they headed to one of his favorite eateries. A few years back Landon never would have escorted a lady on State Street between 26th and 39th streets, because that was where the action was. That section of State Street had been packed with colored people night and day. But back in the early ’20s it had been mostly men lining the streets. At night the lights blazed and the sidewalks were crowded with people attending the jazz clubs and those who just wanted to gawk at all the activity. During the daylight hours people lined the streets while loitering, gossiping, and just watching the people. But that was before the Savoy Ballroom opened on 47th and South Parkway in 1927. Now most of the nightlife was over by the Savoy, so Landon felt comfortable walking those streets with Nettie.
Nettie’s eyes were wide and curious as she glanced around her surroundings. She grabbed hold of Landon’s hand as they walked into the restaurant and said, “I’ve never been down this side of State Street before. My mom said it was too wild and loose over here for a young lady, but it doesn’t seem like much of anything is going on.”
Landon wanted to kick himself. Why hadn’t he considered Nettie’s feelings before taking her to dinner? “If you’re uncomfortable here, we could always go somewhere else,” he told her.
Patting his shoulder, she lightly pushed him forward, further into the small restaurant. “Didn’t you say this is one of your favorite places to eat?”
“They have the best meatloaf and mashed potatoes I’ve had the pleasure of sampling in the Chicago area.”
“Well then let’s grab a seat so I can check out the menu.”
“But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I should have asked you where you wanted to eat, before making a decision in the first place.” Landon was bothered by what he had done because in his heart he knew for sure that if it was Shar he was taking out, he would have fallen all over himself to make sure that everything was to her liking.
Nettie wrapped her hand around Landon’s arm. “I only commented about the area because my mama had warned me so severely about hanging out around here. But things seem fine to me. I don’t think she would be alarmed at all to know that I was having dinner with my pastor over here.”
“Well as long as you’re okay, then I’m okay.” Landon escorted Nettie to an empty table in the middle of the restaurant. He pulled the chair out for her, and Nettie sat down.
When Landon was seated across from her, Nettie told him, “I’ve only kept company with one other man, Pastor, and all he ever did was sit on our porch with me. So believe me, I’m thrilled to be out to dinner with you.”
“Do me a favor, Nettie.”
“What’s that, Pastor?”
“Since we are keeping company and all, call me Landon when we aren’t at church, okay?”
Smiling, with a look of adoration in her eyes, Nettie put her hand on top of Landon’s as it lay on the table. “Sure, I can do that, Landon.” She said his name as if trying it out to see how it felt on her lips.
“Hey, Pastor Landon, you back for some more meatloaf and mashed potatoes?” a server asked as she stood in front of the table grinning at him.
“You better know it, Patty. And you can throw some peas and cornbread on my plate too,” Landon moved his hand from Nettie’s and glanced toward her as he said, “Patty, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Nettie Johnson. She and I work together at the church. She’s my right hand, isn’t that right, Nettie?”
The light dimmed a bit in Nettie’s eyes as she turned to Patty and said, “Yep, I’m his assistant.” She got a bit more animated as she declared, “And we’re doing mighty important work that’s gonna be felt all through the Black Belt.”
“I know all about the work you and Pastor Landon have been doing. My ma and pa are having dinner here tonight. I told you about them, remember, Reverend?” She pointed to a table near the back of the room where an older, distinctly well-dressed couple sat.
Landon turned toward the table and then asked, “Are they still having trouble buying that house?”
“The bank manager told them flat out that he wasn’t loaning money to no coloreds trying to move in a white district.”
Landon shook his head, wondering when the day would come that they would be known simply as a man or woman and not be judged first by the color of their skin.
“Well these bank managers won’t be able to treat our people like that for much longer. Not once Pastor Landon and the NAACP get through with them,” Nettie said with great pride.
“That’s what I told my parents. Would you mind speaking with them tonight?”
He glanced at Nettie, and she nodded. Landon then turned back to Patty and said, “Of course, please ask them if they’d like to have their dinner at our table.”
“I sure will,” Patty said hurriedly. But just before leaving the table she turned back to Nettie and asked, “Do you know what you want to eat?”
Nettie lifted her hands, indicating that they were empty. “I don’t have a menu.” She then waved at the air. “Just bring me what Landon is having.”
“Two meatloaf specials coming up.”
“Oh, but instead of peas, I’ll have some corn, please,” Nettie told her.
Patty left the table and rushed over to where her parents were seated.
Looking over at Nettie, Landon wondered if he had made a mistake bringing Nettie to a place where the people knew him and knew what he was trying to do in the community. “I’m sorry about this. I had no idea that her parents would be here tonight.”
Nettie waved the apology away. “I don’t mind, Landon. This is what we are about.” She leaned closer to him and added, “And those two look like they might have some money saved up for their down payment.”
Landon smiled. He had a partner in Nettie. She cared about his cause and had made it her own. As Frank and Judy Joseph sat down at the table and enjoyed dinner and fellowship with them, Landon discovered that he had, indeed, found his seventh couple who were not only willing, but also well able to purchase a good home.
As they began their trek home after a successful business meeting/date, Nettie said, “Didn’t I tell you those two would have a down payment to put down on their house?”
“You were so right.” Landon grinned from ear to ear as they walked down State Street. “But I still can’t believe that they managed to save fifty-five hundred dollars. I don’t know anyone with that kind of money.”
Nettie put her hand on Landon’s arm as she said, “God is blessing our work, Landon. You will get all ten couples that the NAACP needs for their case, and God will provide a way for us to get all the down payment money that we need.” She lifted her hands as if in praise to God. “I feel it. I believe and I know it’s going to happen.”
Landon glanced over at Nettie. Her enthusiasm was electrifying, and Landon was beginning to grab hold of it and forget about his need to know where all the money would come from. Hope was filling Landon’s heart; his life’s work would be realized.
Nettie started clapping her hands and singing a praise song. She nudged Landon. “Come on, sing with me.”
Landon wanted to close his eyes in order to block out the pain entering his heart. He had been having such a wonderful time with Nettie, feeling as if she might be a kindred spirit. But as he listened to her sing the song Shar had sung the first day he saw her, Landon began wondering if he had done the right thing when he decided to keep company with Nettie.
If a simple praise song could cause his heart to ache for Shar Gracey, he probably wasn’t ready to keep company with anyone. He saw Nettie safely to her door, and then as he walked home, he let his mind drift a few years back. But instead of hearing Nettie’s voice, Shar was singing and he was falling in love all over again.
In an attempt to shut his mind off from dreaming foolishness, Landon tried to concentrate on Nettie and the beautiful evening they had shared. Living in the past would get him nowhere fast. Shar was engaged, and he needed to get over her. But telling himself those simple truths didn’t stop Landon from wondering what Shar was doing and if she was thinking about him, just as he was thinking about her that night.
Walking into the speakeasy was like stepping into utter darkness. The lights were dimmed, with a spotlight on the small dance floor. Men sat at the bar, guzzling down alcohol and laughing like hyenas. They all seemed to be having a good time, but Shar felt an undercurrent of something she just couldn’t put her finger on. All she could think of was that these must be some of the same men Nicoli gambled and drank with. And Nicoli didn’t seem to be having so much fun when she saw him the other night.
Nicoli guided her toward the back of the club to a small dressing room. “Mr. Marson wants you to get ready in here,” he told her.
“What do you mean, ‘get ready’? Am I going to practice with the piano player or something?”
“No, Shar, Mr. Marson wants you to wear something similar to what his other singers wear on stage. He told me that one of his girls will be bringing you a new outfit.”
Shar looked down at her clothes. She had on an olive colored two-piece gown. The jacket buttoned from her neck down to her waist, and the hemline of the skirt brushed against the floor. The dress had been handed down to her from her mother, who’d received it second hand from her mother. Shar had worn the dress to church on countless occasions and had even received a few compliments on how well maintained the dress was. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”
Nicoli took her by the hand and walked her over to a chair so she could sit down. “I like everything you wear. And if it was up to me, you could go out on that stage tonight exactly as you are. But Shar, these guys mean business. To tell you the truth, I don’t know what Mr. Marson would do if you denied his request.”
Becoming alarmed, Shar asked, “You think he would do something to me?” What had she gotten herself into?
“Don’t look like that. I don’t think he would do anything to you. I just don’t want to find out the hard way.”
“Find out what?”
He put a hand over her mouth to shush her. “Look, Shar, I know I let you down, but I promise that if you get me out of this jam, I’ll never put you in the middle of my gambling problems again.”
Putting her hands on her hips, Shar glared at Nicoli. “Are you telling me that you’re going to keep on gambling, even after getting beat up and forcing me to sing in this . . . ” she stretched forth her hand, trying to find the words, “this house of ill repute?”
“Calm down, Shar, that’s not what I meant at all.”
“Just what do you mean, Nicoli? Because I don’t want to live my life on pins and needles, wondering what you’re going to get us into next.”
Someone knocked on the door. Nicoli put his hand on the back of the chair Shar was sitting in and said, “Come in.”
The door opened, and a petite, freckle-faced young woman came into the room holding a white ostrich feather fan in one hand and the most God-forsaken-looking dress in the other hand. The woman hung the dress on a coatrack and then turned to Shar and said, “I think this will fit you.”
Shar stood and made her way to the coat stand with her hand covering her mouth as she viewed the black chiffon flapper dress with the very low “v” neckline. The dress was showered with black sequins and tiny rhinestones. It looked expensive, and Shar was afraid to even touch it.
The woman said, “Try it on.”
Looking around the room as if trying to find a place to hide, Shar said, “I can’t wear that.”
The woman waved her concern away. “Do you know how many women would kill to be in a dress like this?” She took the dress off the hanger and laid it on her arm so Shar could view the label. “This dress was made in France. Now how many colored women outside of Josephine Baker get to slide into something that came out of France?”
The woman was right. The dress and the ostrich feathers did indeed look like something Josephine Baker would strut in as she dazzled European audiences. But Shar wasn’t anything like Josephine Baker. Shar was a gospel singer and that was all she’d ever wanted to be. “But I don’t sing like Josephine Baker or any of the other women who sing in this club. I sing gospel music,” was all Shar could think to say in protest.
The woman laughed. “Daisy Little, one of your so-called gospel singers, was in here just last week, wearing a dress shorter than the one I’m letting you wear.”
Nicoli put his arm around Shar as he told the woman. “Just leave the dress, and I’ll make sure she puts it on before she goes out on the stage.”
The woman turned to Nicoli. “She got the first-time jitters or something?”
“Yeah, you know how it is. Just give me a few minutes to talk to her, and we’ll be ready to start the show in no time. All right?”
Handing Nicoli the ostrich feathers and dress, the woman said, “Good luck,” as she walked out of the room, laughing her head off.
When the door closed, Shar put her hands over her face and burst into tears.
Nicoli laid the dress and feather fan on a chair and wrapped his arms around Shar. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to make you so sad.”
“I-I can’t do this, Nicoli.”
Pulling back, he wiped the tears from her face and then kissed her forehead. “I need you to be strong for me. You can’t break down like some scared little know-nothing girl. You’re a grown woman, and you can handle this. My life depends on it,” he reminded her.
Shar was getting so tired of hearing about Nicoli’s troubles—troubles that he brought on his self—and now she had to come behind him and clean the whole mess up. Would the rest of their lives be like this? Could she truly be happy with an impetuous man like Nicoli?
“My mama would skin me alive if she saw me in a dress like that.” Pointing at the dress, she added, “No decent lady would go out in public dressed like that.”
“I am so tired of listening to you whine.” He stepped back and bore down on her with cold dark eyes. “We’ve got a lot riding on this performance, so you need to stop all this crying and get in that dress.”
“I don’t have anything riding on this performance. I told you that I don’t want to sing in places like this. And now I see that Mahalia was right about you. You’re just like her ex-husband, always looking for ways to make money rather than appreciating what God blesses us with.” Shar grabbed her purse and began walking toward the door.
Nicoli took hold of her arm and squeezed it. “You’re supposed to be my woman. You just can’t leave me in the lurch like this.”
“Let me go, Nicoli. You’re hurting my arm.” She tried to twist out of his grip, but the more she moved, the tighter his grip became. “Let me go,” she begged, hating the sound of her voice.
“I’ll never let you go. You and me belong together. Get that through your thick head and you’ll be just fine.”
Tears glistened in her eyes and she tried to lift his iron grip one finger at a time. “Why are you doing this?”
“Me?” he asked incredulously. “I’m not the one going back on my word. You said you would help me, and you’re not getting out of here until you do exactly what you said you would do.” As he let go of her arm, he picked up the dress and shoved it at her. “Put this on and then get yourself on that stage. I’ll be outside waiting on you.”
Tears streamed down her face as Nicoli closed the door behind him. She stood there rubbing her arm and looking at the bluish purple mark that was beginning to form. Her mind drifted back to the day Landon came to see her when the choir was in Chicago. She thought about how she allowed Nicoli to put his arm around her and tell the most honorable man she had ever known that she was engaged. And right then she knew that she was the biggest fool the world had ever known.