by Wayne Lerner

301 S. Pine, Apt. 406
Friday, June 10, 1966
6:00am

He stretched his taut muscles and peaked one eye out from underneath the tattered covers. He turned over to face away from the door.

6:13. Fuck. It’s the 2-minute drill. She’ll be clomping up the stairs and goin’ through the same shit we do every day.

“Paulie. Paulie. It’s time to get up.”

No response. Silence.

The knock will come next, then the pounding on the door.

A gentle, but firm knock was followed by a fist trying to smash its way through the plywood door. For a small woman, she made her presence known.

“Get the fuck up,” she said. The door flew open gauging yet another hole in the wall behind it.

Now the screaming. I’ll let it go until it gets so loud, she’ll get hoarse.

“Get out of bed, you lazy bum!” Paulie’s Mom screamed until her face turned crimson.

“Every day, I go through this shit with you. Just because you’re turning 18, you think you can do whatever you want, you think life’s going to be so easy for you?”

Paulie imagined steam coming out of his Mom’s ears as she ranted and raved. He stayed quiet under the covers, making her even madder.

“Hanging out with your buddies on the street. Beating up strangers so often that the cops at the station know me by name. Stealing. What are you doing with your life?” His Mom slumped down on his bed and put her head in her hands.

“Look at my life. I didn’t ask for this. But this is what I got. I got you and your sisters and brother, so get moving. She stopped her tirade to catch her breath and settle her nerves.

“You’ve got to walk your sisters to school, you know. It’s getting dangerous out there,” her voice quiet, resigned.

I can’t wait. Gotta get out of this house. Me and the guys will find a place to live and then we’ll have some fun. No more parents to yell at us. Fuck that!

Paulie threw the covers off and started down the short hall to the solitary bathroom.

“OK, Ma. I’m moving. Move outa the way. I gotta pee.”

The bathroom was empty. His sisters were downstairs having breakfast.

Soon I won't have to listen to those bitches screaming that I’m hoggin’ the bathroom. Today’s goin’ to be a good day. Me and the boys gonna skip outa school after lunch.

Paulie slammed his hand on the counter causing the water glass to fall on the floor.

That back door next to the cafeteria’s always jammed open. Then we going’ to take down them blackies on Madison Street. They’s think that’s their corner, protecting that Jew drug store like they’s own it. We’ll see what they think after today. Got some business to take care of.

Paulie finished getting ready as the anger bubbled up throughout his body.

Them blackies goin’ to get what they deserve. They been making fun of us rednecks too long now. That corner goin’ to bleed black today.

Paulie smiled as he imagined what was going to transpire later that day.

And, if that old man and his lady friend get in the way, we’ll take care of them. They’re probably Jews too. Too fuckin’ bad for them. They've lived long enough anyway.

Paulie finished brushing his teeth and combing his hair. He looked in the mirror and liked what he saw.

I’m a fucking warrior. A warrior from the Carolina mountains but I gotta be careful. If my old man finds out what we doin’, I won’t be able to stand up for a week.

Paulie joined his sisters at the kitchen table. He reached for the cereal. Crumbs tumbled from the box into his bowl. “Why is there never anything left for me?” He screamed at no one in particular. His sisters wouldn’t look at him when he got like this. They stared into their bowls as Paulie’s fury filled the room.

He grabbed what was left of the milk and poured it over the remnants of the cereal. His siblings stopped talking. Breakfast was always a fight between Paulie and his Mom.

His mother sat, despondent, as she was every day, cigarette dangling from her mouth, her hair in curlers.

“You know, your Daddy promised me we wouldn’t have to live like this anymore. He said we’d not be hillbillies now we’d come north. But we are. He leaves at 6 every morning to go to the tire factory. He makes decent money and comes home smelling of burnt rubber. And those rubber flakes are in his clothes, his hair, fingernails and even our bed.”

His Mom wrung her hands as she told her story, clasping them tighter with every word. His sisters were silent. They knew better than to interrupt. Paulie just rolled his eyes and started to get up from the table.

“We can’t afford an air conditioner, barely a fan in the window. The fucking steam radiators clanging all night long in the winter. And the screens have more holes than gophers can make in a year. You kids have to get your learning at school so’s you don't have to live like this when you grow up.”

The kids knew the monologue by heart. Their Mom, angry, frustrated, hopeless because she knew she was unable to change the trap they were in.

“Ma, we can do things to make life better here but you don’t want to do that,” Paulie said.

His mother stood up at the table and directed her frustration and anger at her kids.

“If any of you get caught stealing one more time from any of the stores around here, they’re goin’ to put you away for a long, fucking time. Then where will you be? Where will I be? Get a damn education, would you and don’t look back!”

Ashes from her cigarette, mixed with tears, fell like fall leaves to the breakfast table.

Paulie paused, looked around at his dilapidated apartment and stopped eating his cereal. He was sickened by the sight.

Ashtrays filled with used butts, house smells of smoke and rubber, dogs panting, just waiting for scraps of food. I’m done living like this. Me and my sisters. I’m goin’ to take them outa here. Ma and Pa can fend for themselves. Right after me and the boys take care of dem blackies. Time’s right for the showdown.

Paulie got up from the table and signaled to his sibs that it was time to leave for school.

Without a sound, they left the kitchen, grabbed their school books and scrambled down the four flights of wooden stairs to the dark and gloomy courtyard the apartment building surrounded.

30 North Lotus
Friday, June 10, 1966
6:30 am

The dream was so vivid, sweat poured from his forehead onto his brow. His hands got clammy. He stirred, then fought with the sheet that covered him. The firm knock on the door interrupted the battle.

“Lamar, honey, wake up. Time to get moving. The bathroom’s all yours. The other kids are

done and finished.”

“Ok, Ma. I’ll get going. I’m awake. Just thinking.”

Today’s the day. It is gonna be ugly. That’s for sure.

“Lamar, I know what you thinking. You thinking about those hillbillies. Them’s just white trash. Not worth your while.”

“Ma, they call us names. I’m tired of being called a Nig...”

Lamar’s mother smacked him across his face. The sting shocked him. She had never hit him before.

“Don’t you ever use that word in my presence,” she admonished. “I've heard it too many too many

times in my life. We’re not niggers! We’re black Americans and proud of it. Don’t you ever forget that!”

Lamar couldn’t help but see the pain ooze throughout her body. Tears flowed from her face,

dropping down on her waitress uniform, streaking her makeup. Her reprimand was worse than the slap.

Lamar moved next to his Mom and put his arm around her. He started to speak but she put her finger to his mouth.

“You hush up and listen. We talked about this. You’re the oldest son. You got a responsibility to this family. ‘Specially now that your Daddy’s gone. We took a chance, moved over the Cicero Avenue line to this neighborhood. Your Daddy and I worked hard to make sure the white folks knew we was serious about living here. Not making any trouble. Giving back through our church.”

Lamar’s Mom paused to take a deep breath. Her hands cradled in her lap, not around the shoulders of her eldest child. Gaining strength, she pointed her finger right in Lamar’s face.

“You got to get that chip off your shoulder and pay attention to what’s important, jus’ like we talked about before. Now, get moving. You’s got to walk your brother and sister to school.”

Lamar took a long look at his Mother, hair hanging down, strands not yet coiled into a tight bun which she wore on top of her head. In her red and white waitress uniform, she was almost ready for work. One shift for sure; two more than likely.

‘Ma, I’m going to find a way to make things right for you. No mo’ waitressing for uppity black and white folks. You’s going to be able to stay home and be a Ma when I gets through. I gots a plan and today looks like the day I can finally do something about it.”

“Don’t you go and get into trouble, young man. No more fighting with those kids from the other block. Your Daddy and I didn’t work this hard to get us out of Georgia for you to throw it away. You sitting in jail don’ do me or your family no good. Be smart. I know you are.”

“Yeah, I'm smart. And I’ll get straight right after we’s gets our payback. Those peckerwoods goin’ to be hurtin today. No mo’ waiting. Time has come.”

“Before you come downstairs, I want you to think about one more thing. You asked me last night how you can help the family. Get yourself some learning and a profession. Make something of yourself. Make me a proud Mama.”

Lamar’s Mom left his room to finish dressing for work while Lamar pondered her words. They sat heavy in his heart. He knew how much his parents sacrificed to move to this neighborhood. There were plenty of neighbors who didn’t take to their presence with open arms. That didn’t stop his Mom and Dad. They wanted a better place to raise their family.

Lamar got dressed and went into the kitchen for some sparse breakfast before walking his brother and sister to school.

“You quiet today,” said his sister. “That’s not like you. You always spouting off ‘bout somethin’ or ‘nother. Whassup?”“

Got some things on my mind, tha’s all,“ replied Lamar. “Now, finish up your breakfast so’s we’s can get to school. If we’s late again, Ma will have a fit.”

Lamar took a last bite of his toast and drank the remaining juice in his cup. His grip on the glass tightened as he thought about the events unfolding in his mind. He found it hard to concentrate on anything but the task at hand.

Today goin’ to be a special day, tha’s for sure. Got to sign in so’s we can leave right after lunch. The guys will be waiting for me. Those crackers will be movin’ towards our corner if we don’ take care of them, today. Got to protect our turf, the drugstore and the old man and his lady friend. Once we done, I’ll change my ways. Maybe.

Part One