Standing at the Scratch Line (103 page)
King put out his cheroot in the ashtray and said, “That sounds good to me! I been wantin’ to hold the little feller anyway!”
Jack asked, “You coming, Mama?”
“In a minute, Jack. I’ve got to check on the kitchen. You start without me.”
Jack gave his mother a brief questioning look, then turned and walked back into the main banquet hall.
King looked at Serena and shook his head.
“It wasn’t in the contract that I had to be standing with Jack and his wife while they showed off the baby!”
“Don’t explain to me! I ain’t in it no mo’! I ain’t the one gon’ enforce the contract. That’s between you and the angels! You just go ahead and be small!” He didn’t wait for her answer, but followed his son out the swinging door.
King’s arguments were damning and she felt in her heart that his assessment was true. She had turned into her father. Serena had thought she had buried Charles Baddeaux long before he died, yet like Mamie he too refused to go away. The world that she had longed for in her youth was a far cry from what she possessed. She was living in a ghost world filled with dreams that had no possibility of becoming reality. She pushed through the door and walked listlessly out of the room.
When King arrived at the table, there was a chair for him between Eartha and Jack. There was only one chair. It was obvious that they did not expect Serena to join them. King sat down and Eartha placed the baby, wrapped in blankets, in his arms. King pulled back the blanket and there was a smiling brown baby with dark brown, glinting eyes staring up at him. As usual, whenever King looked at his grandson, it reminded him of when Jacques was an infant. It reminded King of how filled with hope he had been that his son would be the beginning of many more sons.
Big Ed Harrison walked up to the table and asked, “So this is the little one, huh? He sure look plum like his daddy!”
“Yep,” King answered with a proud smile. “This here be Jackson Saint Clare Tremain.”
Captain Garrity ambled over with his wife, Maureen. As she cooed over the baby he asked, “How’d he get the moniker Jackson Saint Clare?”
King answered, “Jackson was Eartha’s father’s name and Saint Clare is a Tremain family name. Saint Clare was his great-great-great-grandfather.”
“That’s a big name for a little tyke,” Garrity observed.
King smiled and said, “He gon’ grow into it.”
A line of guests formed and passed by the table. Except for his close friends, the faces began to blur for King. He found himself getting caught up in just playing with the baby. At one point little Jackson grabbed King’s index finger in his tiny fist and would not let go. King waved his finger back and forth and Jackson starting giggling. The baby’s laughter brought such a glow of warmth to King that he held the baby to his chest for a few moments. As long as King lived, young Jackson would be a priority in his life. This child represented the future of King’s branch of the Tremain line.
Without intending it, King sank into a reverie that led him back down the chain of memory to his last meeting with Sister Bornais in New Orleans. It had been a hot, humid day in the spring of 1940. Sister Bornais had moved her abode down near the docks. The smells of raw sewage, Brazilian coffee, grain shipments, imported spices, and Cajun cooking permeated the air. She had invited him into a dark room lighted only with candles. Pungent incense burned in holders around the room. She waved him to sit on a pile of pillows since there were no chairs in the room, sitting across from him at a low table.
Several minutes passed in silence as Sister Bornais lighted and puffed on a long-stemmed clay pipe. King quietly studied the woman whose words had had such a profound effect on his family. Sister Bornais wore a bright yellow head tie and did not look as if she had aged at all in the years since King had left New Orleans. Her eyes were still bright and equaled the shine of the numerous gold bangles, bracelets, and necklaces that she wore on her neck and wrists. Her face was smooth and unwrinkled and her movement had none of the stiffness of age.
King cleared his throat to speak but she waved him to silence. She took several more puffs on her pipe and said in a low, husky voice, “I know why you’s here. You’s seeking a way to break the curse that ties yo’ second son’s life to the chile of LeGrande.” She puffed her pipe several more times before putting it down. “I tol’ you befo’ there ain’t nothin’ you can do to change what’s already been writ.”
“What if I kill LaValle?” King asked.
“That won’t do nothin’ but hurt yo’ grandson! Understand me! Ain’t nothin’ can save yo’ second son from the fate that his mother cursed him to! She the only one could’ve put a stop to things, but she had to do it years ago. Ain’t nobody can do nothin’ now!”
“I ain’t got no grandson! What grandson are you talkin’ about?” King inquired.
“Yo’ second son is gon’ give you the only grandson you gon’ have,” Sister Bornais answered as she rang a small bell on the table. “If you have a hand in LeGrande’s son’s death, the curse passes on to yo’ grandson. But if you do right and leave him to the fate that’s destined for him, yo’ grandson won’t be touched and he’ll grow up to lead yo’ family.”
A woman quietly entered the room, bearing a teapot and two mugs. She set down the tray and disappeared. Sister Bornais poured the steaming liquid into the two cups and offered King one. He sipped the hot liquid, which had an initially sweet flavor but a burning aftertaste. “What’s this?” he asked with a frown.
“Just somethin’ I make up to help me connect. Drink it down! I wants you to hear me good! You’s a good man and I wants to help you. When you finishes the tea, give me yo’ hand!”
King gulped down the liquid, which other than its taste appeared to have no ill effects, and stretched out his hand. Sister Bornais took his hand in a surprisingly firm grip and held it for several minutes with her eyes closed.
“Yo’ grandson’s mother is gon’ be dead befo’ his daddy! Her death is gon’ be caused by LeGrande’s chile too. Yo’ grandson gon’ be an orphan befo’ he’s ten years old!”
“Ain’t there nothin’ I can do?” protested King. “I ain’t used to sittin’ around and acceptin’ stuff I don’t like! It don’t make sense that I can’t kill LaValle. He’s the cause of all of this!”
“Fate don’t have to make sense to mortals. You know why the sun rises? Why the sea is blue? Why you was born? What we know is a pinch in a bushel of facts! Anyway, LaValle ain’t the cause of this! He a victim too! It’s yo’ wife who done caused all this, but killin’ her ain’t gon’ stop nothin’ neither! There ain’t nothin’ you can do but help yo’ grandson grow to manhood!” Sister Bornais released his hand and seemingly fell into a stupor. Her head dropped down on her chest and she remained motionless.
King waited five minutes before he stood up. His movement seemed to waken her from sleep.
Sister Bornais raised her head. “One mo’ thing. The sooner LeGrande’s chile dies, the sooner yo’ second son dies.”
“Does that mean the longer I keep LaValle alive, the longer my son’ll live?”
“No!” she answered with a shake of her head. “Ain’t nothin’ you can do to keep LeGrande’s son alive. When fate calls, fate calls! Just don’t hurry his death none!”
King pulled out a wad of money and handed it to Sister Bornais, but she shook her head. “You done paid for this years ago!”
“Well, let this pay for my son’s visit. He needs to hear—”
“Don’t send yo’ son to me!” Sister Bornais interrupted. “It ain’t good for folk to know how or when they gon’ die! It changes their actions but not the result! All it does is give them years of worry! Heed me on this. Don’t tell yo’ son nothin’!”
King exhaled slowly. “You makes it tough on a man! Can’t tell my son nothing?”
Sister Bornais smiled for the first time. “You’s tough enough to handle it. Yo’ dream of family gon’ be realized in yo’ grandson and if you do right, you gon’ live to see him come to manhood! That should make you happy! That’s more than most men know!”
Little Jackson St. Clare Tremain wriggled in his grandfather’s arms and cried out. His little voice brought King out of his reverie. He held up his grandson and gave him a playful shake. The baby giggled again. It was a soft, buttery sound, like cream pouring into a cup. King put his cheek against the baby’s smooth face and whispered, “It’s been said that yo’ mama and daddy gon’ die. I don’ know about all that, but you ain’t never gon’ be an orphan! You my blood and I swear on all that I care about, I’ll see you to manhood! Yo’ way is gon’ be tough and harder than most, but you got the fiber and the blood to meet the challenge! You gon’ be the head of the Tremain family!” King held the baby a few inches from his face and stared into the child’s dark brown eyes. There was a moment in which they shared an eternity of ignorance. Then the baby reached out and squeezed his nose.
Eartha laughed and said, “Papa Tremain, let me hold Little Jackson before he tears your nose off. You’re lucky you don’t wear glasses! He really likes to rip those off!”
King handed her the baby and stood up. He was filled with tremendous emotion. For a moment he thought tears would come. He took a deep breath and remembered that the last time he had cried was over thirty years ago, when his Uncle Jake had passed. A tear squeezed out of the corner of his eye, but it was not a product of sadness. It was the essence of joy.
His grandson had been christened and in time would be his heir. The dynasty that King had desired to establish for so long would eventually be realized. What more could a family man ask? He walked to the bar to drink with Dirty Red, Smitty, and Big Ed. Despite the pain the future would bring, King Tremain was happy. His life had purpose. It mattered not there were still many battles to fight. The war would eventually be won. His seed would take his place at the scratch line.
READING GROUP GUIDE
The questions and discussion topics that follow are intended to enhance your group’s reading of Guy Johnson’s
Standing at the Scratch Line.
We hope they will provide new insights and ways of looking at this epic novel.
- The period between World War I and World War II was a time when African-Americans began experiencing real gains in their status and wealth, but it was accompanied by equally vicious reprisals on the part of whites. King represents this spirit of rebelliousness and his success is met with jealousy and reprisals. Why do his enemies react with such vehemence toward him? He inspires fear in many; does he inspire love? Do you like or dislike King? Why?
- When we first encounter King, he is a teenager living in Louisiana; from there he travels to France, New York, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and finally to San Francisco. Each of these places represents a different stage of his life, from the anger and naivete in the bayous of his youth to his becoming the seasoned businessman of San Francisco. How does King evolve as he moves from one place to another? What remains the same? What changes?
- King’s attempt to live life on his own terms inevitably clashes with others’ inability to accept his authority or his race. He cannot seem to stay in one place or out of conflict for too long. Despite all the trouble it causes, is this unwillingness to compromise the key to his success? What does this say about his future? How is his son Jack different from him?
- When Serena discovers Mamie’s picture in her husband’s possession she becomes fixated on Mamie’s color. Are Serena’s feelings sparked by jealousy or hate? What role does color play in black society at that time? In the present?
- King does not shrink from violence and feels no hesitation about using it against anyone who threatens him. Interestingly, King rarely initiates violence but automatically reverts to it when provoked. Is King the cause of his violent altercations or is he simply reacting? Are his actions justified? Do you think that Sergeant McGraw got what he deserved?
- Having spent much of her youth escaping from under the shadow of her father, Serena feels she has left her past behind by marrying King. But it is King who later accuses her of following her father’s example. Is this true? Why does she choose to withhold information regarding King’s first son even when it becomes apparent that her children may die as a result? What about Serena and King are so different?
- King feels little remorse at killing those he thinks are a threat to him, but when people close to him are hurt or killed as a result of his actions, he is pained. How does King deal with the death of those like Uncle Jake and Professor? Do the deaths of his family and friends affect his behavior in any way? Does he accept responsibility for them?
- Mace, the mayor of Bodie Wells, resembles King in spirit and courage but differs in his loyalties. Where King claims no permanent attachments, Mace has deep roots in Bodie Wells. When King kills a deputy, Mace accuses him of unnecessarily jeopardizing the town. King claims the townsfolk’s cautious and conciliatory ways only invite further trouble. What makes it easier for King to say this than Mace? What are the costs of action or inaction? Why did black townships cease to exist?
- What kinds of characters do Mace, Professor, Phillip, and his father, Claude, represent?
- What does King’s relationship with Sampson reveal about him?
- Many of King’s targets initially discount his role in their destruction because of his race, only to realize too late that he has capitalized on the arrogance of their own racism. Johnson alludes to the black community’s long history of guerilla warfare and sabotage during slavery and beyond. Discuss this legacy of resistance through manipulation and subversion. How do the characters in
Standing at the Scratch Line
adopt it? - Johnson covers a wide range of the history in
Standing at the Scratch Line,
moving from Louisiana in 1916 to California in the 1940s. Describe the changes we see in American society in that time. How do the fortunes of King and Serena mirror these changes? - What compels King to act the way he does?
- Do you feel this novel accurately reflects the racism and prejudice that African-Americans experienced in this country?
AN INTERVIEW WITH THE AUTHOR
Q: What prompted you to write
Standing at the Scratch Line?
A: I wrote it as a back story for another novel. This other novel centers around King’s grandson and King is only depicted in flashbacks, but because I was attempting to establish the grandson’s memory of King as a force that had the power of affecting his actions, I needed to know King better. The grandson saw his grandfather as evil, but I knew that King was more than that. Thus, I had to flesh him out, determine what events motivated him, attempt to explain how a violent man may not necessarily have evil in his heart.
I also wanted to show that while a character may have achieved dominance over such things as he could control, the truly important elements in life such as health, love, the birth and death of children, lie in the hands of fate, or in other forces far beyond our ken.
Q: The underlying messages in your novel seem to be family and black self-reliance. Why did you choose the action/adventure genre to present this message?
A: I didn’t write this book with a message in mind. I’m a storyteller. I simply wanted to bring to life some of the people that I knew in my childhood and I wanted to entertain readers. If I happen to stumble across a few truths in my writing, so much the better but while I’m still in the first stage of my career as a writer, there is no message; I merely seek to entertain.
It’s true, though, that when I look around at American fiction I don’t often see strong African-American male characters who are unbeaten at the end of the story. But I knew such men, men who grew up while racism and discrimination were still the standard of polite white Americans. I wanted to see such a man, who was undaunted by the vagaries of his time, brought to life.
Standing at the Scratch Line
is written as an adventure because I like adventure. I like tension. I like scenes that suck you into them. And it’s a good story.
Q: We are constantly bombarded by the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” but most people do not pick up guns in response. What is it about King that allows him to fight fire with fire? Was he born this way, or is it the result of socialization?
A: The right to bear arms and stand up to injustice is an underlying theme in the American concept of masculinity and bravery. All one needs to do is look at the formula used in many of the movies being made. I don’t necessarily subscribe to this thinking, but if it didn’t exist the NRA would have vanished years ago. This is an American story about an American who came of age fighting in the First World War. There is nothing unusual about it except that the hero is black. King Tremain’s violence was a product of his times. In 1919 over a hundred black men and women were lynched. Free black people have had to defend themselves from the brutish aspects of racism since this country was born.
King Tremain may be an anomaly in American fiction, but he was not in American life. Men like King existed throughout the United States and especially in the Deep South. Otherwise Black Americans would have owned nothing in such states as Arkansas, Georgia, Mississippi, Louisiana, Florida, Tennessee, Alabama, Texas, and Oklahoma. In disputes over water rights and land ownership they certainly couldn’t expect the local authorities to defend their rights.
Q: How much of King was based on your own grandfather?
A: The idea of King Tremain sprang from memories of him. Some of him is definitely in
Scratch Line,
but he is much more visible in the sequel,
Echoes of a Distant Summer.
A few scenes in the first book are loosely based upon some of the stories I’ve heard about my grandfather. Although the sequel is primarily about his grandson, King figures mightily in the twists and turns of events. King is revealed through flashbacks through which he establishes himself as a force majeure in his grandson’s memory.
Q: As a novelist do you feel any pressure being the son of a famous writer? Has it had any effect on you as an artist?
A: I wouldn’t say that I feel pressure, but I am aware of how difficult it is to be a successful writer and what a mountain it is to climb and how, unlike Everest, one must climb it alone. I would say that it has been an advantage to be the son of a writer. I have had the opportunity to see firsthand how rigorously one must work to master the craft, how one must discipline oneself and what to do when the muse deserts the effort.
Due to my mother, I have had the good fortune to grow up around some of the great writers, actors, musicians, and dancers of our time. The recitation of poetry and prose was an important aspect of my home life. I have benefited greatly from having a parent who valued creativity and loved reading, for she passed that love and value system along to me.
As for being an artist, everyone passes through that portal by themselves. I’m not sure I’m there yet. For now, I’m just happy to be a writer.