John Quotes in The Black Ball
“What’s the matter son?”
“Daddy, am I black?”
“Of course not, you’re brown. You know you’re not black.”
[…]
“Brown’s much nicer than white, isn’t it, Daddy?”
[…]
“Some people think so. But American is better than both, son.”
There must be no flaws this morning. Two fellows who worked at the building across the street had already been dismissed because whites had demanded their jobs, and with the boy at that age needing special foods and me planning to enter school again next term, I couldn’t afford to allow something like that out on the sidewalk to spoil my chances.
Why, I thought, doesn’t he go on in and ask for the job? Why bother me? Why tempt me to choke him? Doesn’t he know we aren’t afraid to fight his kind out this way?
“Not used to anything like that, are you?”
“Not used to what?”
A little more from this guy and I would see red.
“Fellow like me offering a fellow like you something besides a rope.”
“You see, I come from the union and we intend to organize all the building-service help in this district. Maybe you been reading ‘bout it in the papers?”
“I saw something about it, but what’s it to do with me?”
“Listen, fellow. You’re wasting your time and mine. Your damn unions are like everything else in the country – for whites only. What ever caused you to give a damn about a Negro anyway? Why should you try to organize Negroes?”
“Daddy,” the boy called softly; it’s softly when I’m busy.
“Yes, son.”
“When I grow up I think I’ll drive a truck.”
“You do?”
“Yes, and then I can wear a lot of buttons on my cap like the men that bring the meat to the grocery. I saw a colored man with some today, Daddy. I looked out the window, and a colored man drove the truck today, and, Daddy, he had two buttons on his cap. I could see ‘em plain.”
“All right now,” I told him. “You stay in the back out of everybody’s way, and you mustn’t ask anyone a lot of questions.”
“Well, if I ever see him around here again, you’re going to find yourself behind the black ball. Now get him on round to the back and then come up here and clean up this mess he’s made.”
“Will I play with the black ball, Daddy?”
“In time son,” I said. “In time.”
He had already played with the ball; that he would discover later. He was learning the rules of the game already, but he didn’t know it. Yes, he would play with the ball. Indeed, poor little rascal, he would play until he grew sick of playing. My, yes, the old ball game. But I’d begin telling him the rules later.
My hand was still burning from the scratch as I dragged the hose out to water the lawn, and looking down at the iodine stain, I thought of the fellow’s fried hands, and felt in my pocket to make sure I still had the card he had given me. Maybe there was a color other than white on the old ball.
John Quotes in The Black Ball
“What’s the matter son?”
“Daddy, am I black?”
“Of course not, you’re brown. You know you’re not black.”
[…]
“Brown’s much nicer than white, isn’t it, Daddy?”
[…]
“Some people think so. But American is better than both, son.”
There must be no flaws this morning. Two fellows who worked at the building across the street had already been dismissed because whites had demanded their jobs, and with the boy at that age needing special foods and me planning to enter school again next term, I couldn’t afford to allow something like that out on the sidewalk to spoil my chances.
Why, I thought, doesn’t he go on in and ask for the job? Why bother me? Why tempt me to choke him? Doesn’t he know we aren’t afraid to fight his kind out this way?
“Not used to anything like that, are you?”
“Not used to what?”
A little more from this guy and I would see red.
“Fellow like me offering a fellow like you something besides a rope.”
“You see, I come from the union and we intend to organize all the building-service help in this district. Maybe you been reading ‘bout it in the papers?”
“I saw something about it, but what’s it to do with me?”
“Listen, fellow. You’re wasting your time and mine. Your damn unions are like everything else in the country – for whites only. What ever caused you to give a damn about a Negro anyway? Why should you try to organize Negroes?”
“Daddy,” the boy called softly; it’s softly when I’m busy.
“Yes, son.”
“When I grow up I think I’ll drive a truck.”
“You do?”
“Yes, and then I can wear a lot of buttons on my cap like the men that bring the meat to the grocery. I saw a colored man with some today, Daddy. I looked out the window, and a colored man drove the truck today, and, Daddy, he had two buttons on his cap. I could see ‘em plain.”
“All right now,” I told him. “You stay in the back out of everybody’s way, and you mustn’t ask anyone a lot of questions.”
“Well, if I ever see him around here again, you’re going to find yourself behind the black ball. Now get him on round to the back and then come up here and clean up this mess he’s made.”
“Will I play with the black ball, Daddy?”
“In time son,” I said. “In time.”
He had already played with the ball; that he would discover later. He was learning the rules of the game already, but he didn’t know it. Yes, he would play with the ball. Indeed, poor little rascal, he would play until he grew sick of playing. My, yes, the old ball game. But I’d begin telling him the rules later.
My hand was still burning from the scratch as I dragged the hose out to water the lawn, and looking down at the iodine stain, I thought of the fellow’s fried hands, and felt in my pocket to make sure I still had the card he had given me. Maybe there was a color other than white on the old ball.
