"It's something that's best forgot about," he said, leaning close, his big hands gripped and stretched before him. "But you see, there was a rally and some hoodlums tried to break up the meeting, and in the fighting Brother Tod Clifton got holt to one of the white brothers by mistake and was beating him, thought he was one of the hoodlums, he said. Things like that is bad, Brother, very bad. But with some of these emblems, things like that wouldn't happen."
"So that actually happened," I said.
"Sure did. That Brother Clifton goes wild when he gits mad . . . But what do you think of my idea?"
"I think it should be brought to the attention of the committee," I said guardedly, as the phone rang. "Excuse me a moment, Brother," I said.
It was the editor of a new picture magazine requesting an interview of "one of our most successful young men."
"That's very flattering," I said, "but I'm afraid I'm too busy for an interview. I suggest, however, that you interview our youth leader, Brother Tod Clifton; you'll find him a much more interesting subject."
"No, no!" Wrestrum said, shaking his head violently as the editor said, "But we want you. You've --"
"And you know," I interrupted, "our work is considered very controversial, certainly by some."
"That's exactly why we want you. You've become identified with that controversy and it's our job to bring such subjects to the eyes of our readers."
"But so has Brother Clifton," I said.
"No, sir; you're the man and you owe it to our youth to allow us to tell them your story," he said, as I watched Brother Wrestrum leaning forward. "We feel that they should be encouraged to keep fighting toward success. After all, you're one of the latest to fight his way to the top. We need all the heroes we can get."
"But, please," I laughed over the phone, "I'm no hero and I'm far from the top; I'm a cog in a machine. We here in the Brotherhood work as a unit," I said, seeing Brother Wrestrum nod his head in agreement.
"But you can't get around the fact that you're the first of our people to attract attention to it, can you now?"
"Brother Clifton was active at least three years before me. Besides, it isn't that simple. Individuals don't count for much; it's what the group wants, what the group does. Everyone here submerges his personal ambitions for the common achievement."
"Good! That's very good. People want to hear that. Our people need to have someone say that to them. Why don't you let me send out an interviewer? I'll have her there in twenty minutes."
"You're very insistent, but I'm very busy," I said.
And if Brother Wrestrum hadn't been wig-wagging, trying to tell me what to say I would have refused. Instead, I consented. Perhaps, I thought, a little friendly publicity wouldn't hurt. Such a magazine would reach many timid souls living far from the sound of our voices. I had only to remember to say little about my past.
"I'm sorry for this interruption, Brother," I said, putting down the phone and looking into his curious eyes. "I'll bring your idea to the attention of the committee as quickly as possible."
I stood to discourage further talk and he got up, fairly bursting to continue.
"Well, I've got to see some other brothers myself," he said, "I'll be seeing you soon."
"Anytime," I said, avoiding his hand by picking up some papers.
Going out, he turned with his hand on the door frame, frowning. "And, Brother, don't forget what I said about that thing you got on your desk. Things like that don't do nothin' but cause confusion. They ought to be kept out of sight."
I was glad to see him go. The idea of his trying to tell me what to say in a conversation only part of which he could have heard! And it was obvious that he disliked Clifton. Well, I disliked him. And all that foolishness and fear over the leg chain. Tarp had worn it for nineteen years and could laugh, but this big --
Then I forgot Brother Wrestrum until about two weeks later at our downtown headquarters, where a meeting had been called to discuss strategy.
Everyone had arrived before me. Long benches were arranged at one side of the room, which was hot and filled with smoke. Usually such meetings sounded like a prizefight or a smoker, but now everyone was silent. The white brothers looked uncomfortable and some of the Harlem brothers belligerent. Nor did they leave me time to think about it. No sooner had I apologized for my lateness than Brother Jack struck the table with his gavel, addressing his first remarks to me.
"Brother, there seems to be a serious misunderstanding among some of the brothers concerning your work and recent conduct," he said.
I stared at him blankly, my mind groping for connections. "I'm sorry, Brother Jack," I said, "but I don't understand. You mean there's something wrong with my work?"
"So it seems," he said, his face completely neutral. "Certain charges have just been made . . ."
"Charges? Have I failed to carry out some directive?"
"About that there seems to be some doubt. But we'd better let Brother Wrestrum speak of this," he said.
"Brother Wrestrum!"
I was shocked. He hadn't been around since our talk, and I looked across the table into his evasive face, seeing him stand with a slouch, a rolled paper protruding from his pocket.
"Yes, Brothers," he said, "I brought charges, much as I hated to have to do it. But I been watching the way things have been going and I've decided that if they don't stop soon, this brother is going to make a fool out of the Brotherhood!"
There were some sounds of protest.
"Yes, I said it and I mean it! This here brother constitutes one of the greatest dangers ever confronted by our movement."
I looked at Brother Jack; his eyes were sparkling. I seemed to see traces of a smile as he scribbled something on a pad. I was becoming very hot.
"Be more specific, Brother," Brother Garnett, a white brother, said. "These are serious charges and we all know that the brother's work has been splendid. Be specific."
"Sho, I'll be specific," Wrestrum boomed, suddenly whipping the paper from his pocket, unrolling it and throwing it on the table. "This here's what I mean!"
I took a step forward; it was a portrait of me looking out from a magazine page.
"Where did that come from?" I said.
"That's it," he boomed. "Make out like you never seen it."
"But I haven't," I said. "I really haven't."
"Don't lie to these white brothers. Don't lie!"
"I'm not lying. I never saw it before in my life. But suppose I had, what's wrong with it?"
"You know what's wrong!" Wrestrum said.
"Look, I don't know anything. What's on your mind? You have us all here, so if you have anything to say, please get it over with."
"Brothers, this man is a -- a -- opportunist! All you got to do is read this article to see. I charge this man with using the Brotherhood movement to advance his own selfish interests."
"Article?" Then I remembered the interview which I had forgotten. I met the eyes of the others as they looked from me to Wrestrum.
"And what does it say about us?" Brother Jack said, pointing to the magazine.