Stacey glanced over at Moe and at me, then said, “So, what does this have to do with us?”
“Well, maybe not a thing,” replied Lawyer Tate. “But I felt I had to mention it to you, because your name came up, Robert.”
“My name?” questioned Stacey.
“Oh, goodness,” I murmured, no longer able to pretend disinterest in what Attorney Tate was saying.
My emotional disclaimer was not lost on the lawyer, who glanced my way but said nothing. He went on. “Seems there is a white boy from Mississippi working at Willys Overland. Seems he recognized you, Robert, and he said that he was there in a town called Strawberry on the day of the attack. He recalled that on that day you and your sister were there in town also, and that he knew your family and the Turner family were close. He told folks back in Strawberry about you. Said that perhaps you would know where Moe Turner would be. Authorities there contacted the Toledo police and said there is an arrest warrant in Mississippi for this Moe Turner for aggravated assault. Ironic thing is that your name came up on the same day Miss Cassie here decided to integrate the downstairs seating area at the movie theater.” He smiled bemusedly my way. “Course now, the police didn’t take any names about that theater incident and that was at my request. I didn’t want any of this coming back on you or your family, Robert . . . or you, Moe.”
Stacey was silent a moment, eyes on Lawyer Tate, then, without looking at Moe or me, he said, “Well, I tell you, Lawyer Tate—”
At that, the attorney held up his hand, stopping him from speaking. “I don’t need explanations. I don’t need to know anything. In fact, I do not want to know anything. All I wanted you to know is that there is a white person from Mississippi who knows you and Cassie and that if he presses this thing, somebody from law enforcement might come to question you. I assume no one has contacted you about this.” Stacey shook his head in silence. “Well, maybe no one will come at all. You and Cassie weren’t implicated in that attack on those Mississippi boys. Like I told the detective who asked me about all this, I don’t know the name Moe Turner. Actually, the only Moe I know is a young man by the name of Moe McKlellan. . . .” He looked straight at Moe. “But, of course, I didn’t tell them that.”
Moe shifted uneasily. Since his arrival in the North, Moe had been using the name Moe McKlellan and had gotten his job under that name. He also had identification under that name.
“This man who said he recognized me, you know who he is?” asked Stacey.
Attorney Tate touched a file on his desk, thumped it, and put on his glasses before opening it. He checked a paper inside. “Harold Rockmiler,” he said. He took off his glasses and looked up. “You know him?”
Stacey shook his head and looked at me. I shrugged. I hadn’t heard of him either.
“Well, as I said,” continued Lawyer Tate, “I just wanted all of you to know there was an inquiry. Also, if you ever need legal advice, my door is always open.” He pushed back from his desk and stood. With that, Stacey, Moe, and I knew the meeting was ended, and we stood too. We thanked Attorney Tate, but as we started to leave, he stopped me. “Cassie, I’d like to speak to you for a minute.”
I turned back as Stacey and Moe went into the outer office. “Yes, sir?” I said.
Lawyer Tate came over to me. “I’ve been thinking about your stand the other night at the movie theater. Maybe it wasn’t a wise thing you did, but I admired it.”
I glanced at Stacey, standing now by the secretary’s desk. “Well, my brother sure didn’t.”
Lawyer Tate smiled at that, then said, “I know you’re working on a degree in education from the university here and Henry tells me you’re almost finished with your courses. How soon will that be?”
“I have a couple more courses to take in the fall. Once I’ve passed them, I’ll be qualified to teach in Ohio, probably by next January. But why are you asking?”
“Well, I’ve just been wondering if you’re planning on actually teaching once you do qualify.”
I was surprised that Lawyer Tate had been wondering about me at all. “Well, to be truthful with you, I don’t know if I’ll teach or not. My mother’s a teacher and she loves it, but I don’t feel the same as she does about teaching and I figure I ought to love whatever I do if that’s what I’m going to be doing the rest of my life.”
Attorney Tate nodded. “I agree with you, Cassie, that you ought to love whatever you do and have a real commitment to it. So, think about this, Cassie.” His eyes met mine. “Law.”
“Law?”
“That’s right, law. Just think about it. You want to take a stand about injustices, this could be a way. Like I said the other night, our day is coming for change, and you could well be a part of it. Just think about it.”
I was silent a moment, struck by the thought. “I will,” I said, and moved to go.
“And, Cassie, one word of advice. If you do choose law, never give yourself away concerning your circumstances, or those of a client, when it is not in your best interest to do so.”
“What do you mean?”
“During our conversation earlier, Cassie, you confirmed something to me that I already suspected, something a good lawyer would always recognize.”
I thought a moment, then realized what he meant. My emotional murmur had given him insight into my thinking. “Oh,” I said.
He smiled. “You ever want to talk further about this, I’m here.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll remember that.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Attorney Tate hadn’t asked, so we hadn’t told him what had happened that day back in Strawberry when Moe had thrashed those three white boys with a crowbar. If we had told the attorney, I knew he would have understood. He too was from the South—South Carolina—and even if he had not come out of the South he would have understood anyway. Anybody of color would have understood.
It was the taunting, the humiliation that led Moe to strike out at Statler Aames and his brothers. And it was the fear. The Aames brothers along with their cousin, Jeremy Simms, had already chased down a colored boy along the Creek Rosa Lee, and the boy had been injured. On that December day in Strawberry I knew I was thinking about what had happened along the Rosa Lee, and I knew Moe was too. Clarence Hopkins was as well.
Clarence was also a good friend of ours, same age as Stacey and Moe. He recently had joined the Army, and he was with us, in uniform, that day. Statler Aames and his brothers saw Clarence and even though Clarence was in uniform, or perhaps because he was, they began to taunt him, to humiliate him with racial jokes. They had forced Clarence to take off his soldier’s cap so that they could rub his head for so-called good luck. Clarence had bowed his head, scrunched his soldier’s cap in his hands in silence, and they had rubbed his head with raucous laughter and invited other white men watching to do the same.