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Larry Carr's Reviews > Run Man Run: A Novel
Run Man Run: A Novel
by
by
** spoiler alert **
Run Man Run by Chester Himes aptly named and chillingly good. Recalled for me a song from back in the day, —For What It’s Worth…by Buffalo Springfield�
“There's something happening here
But what it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware
I think it's time we stop
Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?
There's battle lines being drawn
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind
It's time we stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
Step out of line, the men come and take you away
We better stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?�
Mad cop Matt Walker on Jimmy’s trail. And for Porter #3 —the answer was run� run —and then to finally get a gun.
Drunk-mad cop —you stole my car! Porter 1, Luke —“figured Fat Sam could handle a drunk cop better than himself. Fat Sam had a soft line of Uncle Tom jive and white folks who were distrustful of a lean Negro like himself were always convinced of Fat Sam’s honesty.� —� White folks get to drinking and the first thing they think about is colored folks stealing something from them. You’re from the South, ain’t you?� Mad Cop to Porter #2. � born and raised in Jackson Heights on Long Island and I’ve never lived outside of New York City in my life. I never had nothing against colored people. I don’t know what made me think like that—suspecting you porters. I guess I must have just picked it up.�
Two porters dead, 3rd found wounded. “seeking a shape to the life the murdered men � Luke was a home man with a wife and eleven children � Fat Sam was just the opposite. He lived with a big sloppy woman who looked quite like him and they spent most of their time boozing� � � three interrogators—Lieutenant Baker, Sergeant Brock, and the assistant D.A.—went into the building next door where the wounded porter had been found, and questioned the superintendent and his helper, Joe. � calling the precinct station, of the detective arriving almost immediately following his phone call. He had taken the detective to the basement and they had found the wounded porter. -And then when the porter had regained consciousness, he had accused the detective of being the man who had shot him. The superintendent remembered that the porter had said the detective still carried the gun, but on examination by the patrol car police the detective’s pistol proved to have been unfired. -the lieutenant telephoned homicide and asked to have detective Walker report to him. Then he telephoned Bellevue and ordered Jimmy transferred to the hospital ward of the county jail downtown. -dangerous to transfer him at the time. “All right, as soon as you can,�
“Brock asked to sit in on the questioning of Walker, who was his wife’s brother. The lieutenant hadn’t known this; he was embarrassed. But he consented for Brock to sit in. “Just keep quiet is all,� the assistant D.A. demanded —the arrival of detective Walker. Walker wore the same clothes he had worn all night. His face was redder and his eyes were red-rimmed. He gave Brock an accusing look but nodded dutifully, then turned toward the lieutenant and asked, “You want to talk here?� —“tour of duty is from eight to four in the Times Square district. I deal chiefly with prostitutes and pickpockets but occasionally there are shootings and robberies in the district—� -“Go on.� “Last night, shortly before going off duty, I took a final check on the Broadway Automat to see if there were any wanteds inside or any prostitutes working. There wasn’t anybody in there but bums—� “How could you tell?� the assistant D.A. asked. “Bums look like bums,� he said flatly. “What else you expect� -“I saw a prostitute running toward me—that was south—from 47th Street.� -“I knew she was a prostitute because she looked like a prostitute.� “A big man in a dark overcoat without any hat was chasing her. I cut in front of her and seized her, then I moved to seize the man. But I saw he had an open knife in his hand and I let go the woman to stop him� � “I turned over to Fifth Avenue, still without seeing a soul, and again I drove down to 34th Street—� “Hadn’t it occurred to you she might have gone into a house by then?� the assistant D.A. asked. “She could have,� Walker admitted. “But I wasn’t thinking.� Again all three officials looked at him sharply. “I just wanted to catch that thieving whore.� -It’s an eastbound street�36th—and I couldn’t drive into it—� � “I just parked on Madison at the corner and got out and ran after her. I had to cross Madison and just as I turned into 36th Street she ran up the steps of a house way down the block and disappeared.� � “That was when I saw the Negro. -My first thought was that he was a prowler—� “Why?� the lieutenant asked. “Why what?� Walker was genuinely puzzled. “What made you think he was a prowler?� “Oh, that. Hell, why else would a Negro be in that neighborhood?� “There are Negro janitors and porters and some might even live there.� “This one was a porter.� —Superintendent. “he said if I was a policeman I was just the man he was looking for. He said there was a burglar hiding in the basement of the corner building.� “I asked him for some identification and he produced a Schmidt and Schindler worker’s identity card,� “What did this Negro look like?� the lieutenant asked. “Look like? Like a Negro, what was he supposed to look like?� � “You told the superintendent about your informant?� “He didn’t ask. I just followed him down to the basement where they thought the burglar was hiding.� “Instead, you found another Negro Schmidt and Schindler porter,� “This one was wounded.� “That’s right.� “And he accused you to your face of shooting him?� “That’s right.� “How do you account for that?�
“It’ll take a psychiatrist to figure it out. That’s why I had him sent to Bellevue.� � “Then the Negro porter you met on the street—the informant—might very likely be the murderer himself?� the lieutenant suggested. “Very likely,� Walker said. “At least I think so now.� “The sergeant cautioned me about leaving fingerprints—� “Yes, they found your prints all over.� “That’s what he said, I was leaving them all over. Then suddenly I remembered my car and prisoner—� “What made you remember them all of a sudden?� “How the hell do I know? I just remembered them, that was all.�
“There would be plenty of time after all the facts were in to begin thinking about Walker. Now was the time to try to find a motive.�
Detective Walker on the prowl. “South of 145th Street the Puerto Ricans were taking over, crowding out the Germans and the French, who’d gotten there first. It was like a dark cloud moving over Manhattan, he thought. But it wasn’t his problem; he’d leave it to the city planners, to Commissioner Moses and his men. Looking eastward was Harlem, extending across the island to the Triborough Bridge. Those poor colored people; they had a hard life, he thought. They’d be better off dead, if they only knew it. Hitler had the right idea. —He was back among the pimps and the prostitutes, the racketeers and the horseplayers, the has-been actors and actresses, cheap hotels and cheap people, the tag-end of Times Square. —feeling like the Cock of the Walk. Now he was a man of purpose again; a man with a purpose. If he hadn’t accidentally pulled the trigger and killed Fat Sam, the whole incident would have been just a joke. Now it was double murder; and that wasn’t the end.�
The Harlem scene. “A curtained doorway at the back led to the private club where money was the only requisite for admission. It was another world, a Harlem nightclub for home folks, like nothing else on earth. The atmosphere was both sensual and animal, thick, dense, odorous —But violence always lay cocked and ready in the smoke-filled, whiskey-fumed air. —It was a hangout for people whose business was vice—pimps � The prices were too high for working people. However, Negroes of the middle class—businessmen and professionals, doctors, lawyers, dentists and morticians—came when they were in the mood for slumming. Everyone kept their passions in their own backyard and tended strictly to their own business. Yet sex was the most predominant factor of the overall atmosphere.
—Linda Lou was singing: “Come to me, my melancholy baby, cuddle up and don’t you cry…� She was standing in a baby blue spotlight beside a white baby grand piano at which sat a slim dark man with shiny conked hair, making the soft run of notes sound like falling rain. -Negro woman’s blues voice which lies between soprano and contralto, and is husky on the deep notes and plaintive on the high notes� � “Keep an eye on that chappie,� he ordered. “Shamus?� the bouncer asked. “No, a city dick, but he’s got a sad look, and I don’t trust cops with a sad look about them. They ain’t sad for nothing.� “That’s no lie,� the bouncer said. � act was finished there was a smattering of applause. She knew it didn’t mean they didn’t like her singing; these people just didn’t believe in applause. During her break she went over and sat beside Jimmy. The Jive Fingers, a rhythm group, took over. The Jive Fingers began harmonizing on one of their own songs called “Don’t Blow Joe,� and all over the place big and little feet began patting time.� —Linda Lou -City Dick “These people in here don’t give a hoot in hell for who you are. If I tell them you’re trying to hurt me they’ll cut your throat and leave your carcass in some dirty gutter.� � “Don’t you believe me?� “I believe you,� he said sadly. “That’s what it all comes down to. Who believes who.� “Then get wise to yourself!� —the Jive Fingers filled the silence: “I’m gonna sit right down and write myself a letter, and make believe it came from you…� -she was on again. She began with an old favorite, “If this ain’t love it’ll have to do…� Jimmy heard her over the amplifier in the bar and went back into the club to listen.� —The Dick at LL’s table. -“numbed by a strange bewilderment. He felt lost in a situation which he did not understand. � Someone in the audience cried for “Rocks in My Bed� and she took it and gave out. � An instrumental trio—piano, bass, and drums—had taken over and were knocking themselves out with a vulgar, old-time tune…“Yass-yass-yass!� some loud-mouthed drunken madam shouted. The joint began rocking and jumping, reeling and rolling�. The instruments thundered and another drunken woman screamed uncontrollably, “It’s your ass-ass-ass!”…It’s your ass!� Walker —LL. “He got me suspended from my job. He’s put me under suspicion. Until I catch the killer, I’ll be under suspicion. I’ll never be reinstated on the force. I’m going to keep on following him until the killer shows himself. And the killer’s going to try to kill him the first opportunity he gets. You can bet your sweet life on that.� “The only thing he can do to help himself is to tell who the killer is,� he said in a positive tone of voice. Her face clouded again with suspicion and perplexity. “He’ll only just say it was you.� “That will get him killed for sure,� he said. —She stared into his bright blue eyes as she listened to his hypnotic voice. She felt as though he were casting a spell over her. —“What will be the difference if I tell you who the killer is?� she asked. He leaned forward again and held her gaze. “I will kill him,� She was repulsed by him and at the same time irresistibly drawn to him. He would kill a man, she thought. —“Your friend will go home with you. He’ll want to know what we’ve been talking about, what I’ve said to you. Don’t tell him. Continue to act as though you believe him implicitly. When I see a light in his room, I’ll come up to your flat to see what you’ve found out. Okay?� She wanted to tell him not to come, but she found herself saying. “All right,� against her will.� —Jive Fingers had just come on again and were giving out in a frenzy with: “It ain’t what you do but it’s the way that you do it…� Jimmy. “I just wished you hadn’t talked to that murdering son of a bitch,� “You act as if I wanted to talk to him; as if I had enjoyed it. —just did it for you.� “I know you did.� “You’re all I got,� he said. “If you don’t believe me, who will?� -She too was overcome by a sudden wave of tenderness. She stroked his kinky hair. It felt stiff and electric to her touch, inspiring an indefinable thrill. � “It’d just make it easier for us to get a case against him and get others to believe you too if he looked more like the type who’d do such a thing.� “If he looked like a murderer?� he exploded. “What’s a murderer supposed to look like?� “I mean if he looked vicious,� � But he doesn’t act as if he’s got any prejudice at all.� � he’s the man. I saw him as well as I see you.� -You were coming up the stairs and the first thing you knew somebody was shooting at you—� “Not somebody—him!� —“All you think is, Run, man, run for your life. But you see him all right. You see him in a way you’ll never forget him.� � He’d kill the killer, he had said, but she couldn’t believe he’d murder two defenseless colored men and shoot at Jimmy without warning. Is that possible? For him to shoot you without any reason at all?� “White men’ve been killing colored men for years for no reason you’d understand.� —he’s on the vice squad, too. There’s no telling what might happen to a man’s mind who constantly associates with criminals and prostitutes.� —“You don’t even believe me yourself, because of how he looks—� “How do you think he looks to them, who’re white like he is? They’ll think I’m the one who’s a schizophrene. Maybe you’re beginning to think so too, since you’ve talked to him.� “What I thought was, maybe we could figure out some way to get him out into the open. “I don’t know what to think anymore,� she confessed.� “Stay with me, honey,� she pleaded. “Hold me in your arms. I need you as much as you need me. Don’t run out on me.� “I need you too, but you’ve already run out on me,� he accused. “I’ll go my way alone.� Jimmy headed toward the elevator, moving like a sleepwalker, tight inside that he felt wooden and his breath wouldn’t go any deeper than his throat. But the emasculating notion persisted: His girl had turned against him for a white man � Jimmy wheeled about stricken gaze locked with Walker’s opaque blue stare. The next instant he was running. He was leaping up the stairs. He was running for his life.
Jimmy runs, and gets himself a gun� � “There’s a good show at the Apollo,� he said. “It’s a matinee today.� “You ought to catch it.� “What for?� -� might interest a man like you from Durham, North Carolina,� he said just as carefully. “Got one act by two comedians you ought to like. One of these comedians says where can I buy a gun? Other comedian says you ought to go to the Apollo, man. First comedian asks, they sells guns at the Apollo? Second comedian says naw, man, that’s a theatre where a man can get a seat First comedian asks how come all of that just to see a show? Second comedian says you want to buy a gun, don’t you? First comedian says sure. Second comedian says that’s the way I like to see shows.� Jimmy had got it. “Right,� he said. “I’d like to see that show.� “The price is right. Twenty bucks.� “Best time to be there is around three-thirty,� “Big or little?� he asked. “Not too big, not too little,� Jimmy said. “That’s what I always say,� the bartender agreed, looking relieved. “Give a woman that’s not too old and not too young.� “A buck, twenty.� Jimmy gave him two dollar bills, picked up a half dollar of the change. He slid from his stool and said, “I’m sure going to see that show.�
Waiting for the Apollo show —Jimmy � “read the titles of books by colored authors in the showcase of the hotel bookstore. Black No More, by George Schuyler, he read; Black Thunder, by arna bontemps; The Blacker the Berry, by Wallace Thurman; Black Metropolis, by Cayton and Drake; Black Boy, by Richard Wright; Banana Bottom, by Claude McKay; The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man, by James Weldon Johnson; The Conjure-Man Dies, by Rudolph Fisher, Not Without Laughter, by Langston Hughes.�
What? No Chester Himes? Well � Run Man Run� more of my highlights visible, but you better get yourself this read.
“There's something happening here
But what it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware
I think it's time we stop
Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?
There's battle lines being drawn
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind
It's time we stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
Step out of line, the men come and take you away
We better stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?�
Mad cop Matt Walker on Jimmy’s trail. And for Porter #3 —the answer was run� run —and then to finally get a gun.
Drunk-mad cop —you stole my car! Porter 1, Luke —“figured Fat Sam could handle a drunk cop better than himself. Fat Sam had a soft line of Uncle Tom jive and white folks who were distrustful of a lean Negro like himself were always convinced of Fat Sam’s honesty.� —� White folks get to drinking and the first thing they think about is colored folks stealing something from them. You’re from the South, ain’t you?� Mad Cop to Porter #2. � born and raised in Jackson Heights on Long Island and I’ve never lived outside of New York City in my life. I never had nothing against colored people. I don’t know what made me think like that—suspecting you porters. I guess I must have just picked it up.�
Two porters dead, 3rd found wounded. “seeking a shape to the life the murdered men � Luke was a home man with a wife and eleven children � Fat Sam was just the opposite. He lived with a big sloppy woman who looked quite like him and they spent most of their time boozing� � � three interrogators—Lieutenant Baker, Sergeant Brock, and the assistant D.A.—went into the building next door where the wounded porter had been found, and questioned the superintendent and his helper, Joe. � calling the precinct station, of the detective arriving almost immediately following his phone call. He had taken the detective to the basement and they had found the wounded porter. -And then when the porter had regained consciousness, he had accused the detective of being the man who had shot him. The superintendent remembered that the porter had said the detective still carried the gun, but on examination by the patrol car police the detective’s pistol proved to have been unfired. -the lieutenant telephoned homicide and asked to have detective Walker report to him. Then he telephoned Bellevue and ordered Jimmy transferred to the hospital ward of the county jail downtown. -dangerous to transfer him at the time. “All right, as soon as you can,�
“Brock asked to sit in on the questioning of Walker, who was his wife’s brother. The lieutenant hadn’t known this; he was embarrassed. But he consented for Brock to sit in. “Just keep quiet is all,� the assistant D.A. demanded —the arrival of detective Walker. Walker wore the same clothes he had worn all night. His face was redder and his eyes were red-rimmed. He gave Brock an accusing look but nodded dutifully, then turned toward the lieutenant and asked, “You want to talk here?� —“tour of duty is from eight to four in the Times Square district. I deal chiefly with prostitutes and pickpockets but occasionally there are shootings and robberies in the district—� -“Go on.� “Last night, shortly before going off duty, I took a final check on the Broadway Automat to see if there were any wanteds inside or any prostitutes working. There wasn’t anybody in there but bums—� “How could you tell?� the assistant D.A. asked. “Bums look like bums,� he said flatly. “What else you expect� -“I saw a prostitute running toward me—that was south—from 47th Street.� -“I knew she was a prostitute because she looked like a prostitute.� “A big man in a dark overcoat without any hat was chasing her. I cut in front of her and seized her, then I moved to seize the man. But I saw he had an open knife in his hand and I let go the woman to stop him� � “I turned over to Fifth Avenue, still without seeing a soul, and again I drove down to 34th Street—� “Hadn’t it occurred to you she might have gone into a house by then?� the assistant D.A. asked. “She could have,� Walker admitted. “But I wasn’t thinking.� Again all three officials looked at him sharply. “I just wanted to catch that thieving whore.� -It’s an eastbound street�36th—and I couldn’t drive into it—� � “I just parked on Madison at the corner and got out and ran after her. I had to cross Madison and just as I turned into 36th Street she ran up the steps of a house way down the block and disappeared.� � “That was when I saw the Negro. -My first thought was that he was a prowler—� “Why?� the lieutenant asked. “Why what?� Walker was genuinely puzzled. “What made you think he was a prowler?� “Oh, that. Hell, why else would a Negro be in that neighborhood?� “There are Negro janitors and porters and some might even live there.� “This one was a porter.� —Superintendent. “he said if I was a policeman I was just the man he was looking for. He said there was a burglar hiding in the basement of the corner building.� “I asked him for some identification and he produced a Schmidt and Schindler worker’s identity card,� “What did this Negro look like?� the lieutenant asked. “Look like? Like a Negro, what was he supposed to look like?� � “You told the superintendent about your informant?� “He didn’t ask. I just followed him down to the basement where they thought the burglar was hiding.� “Instead, you found another Negro Schmidt and Schindler porter,� “This one was wounded.� “That’s right.� “And he accused you to your face of shooting him?� “That’s right.� “How do you account for that?�
“It’ll take a psychiatrist to figure it out. That’s why I had him sent to Bellevue.� � “Then the Negro porter you met on the street—the informant—might very likely be the murderer himself?� the lieutenant suggested. “Very likely,� Walker said. “At least I think so now.� “The sergeant cautioned me about leaving fingerprints—� “Yes, they found your prints all over.� “That’s what he said, I was leaving them all over. Then suddenly I remembered my car and prisoner—� “What made you remember them all of a sudden?� “How the hell do I know? I just remembered them, that was all.�
“There would be plenty of time after all the facts were in to begin thinking about Walker. Now was the time to try to find a motive.�
Detective Walker on the prowl. “South of 145th Street the Puerto Ricans were taking over, crowding out the Germans and the French, who’d gotten there first. It was like a dark cloud moving over Manhattan, he thought. But it wasn’t his problem; he’d leave it to the city planners, to Commissioner Moses and his men. Looking eastward was Harlem, extending across the island to the Triborough Bridge. Those poor colored people; they had a hard life, he thought. They’d be better off dead, if they only knew it. Hitler had the right idea. —He was back among the pimps and the prostitutes, the racketeers and the horseplayers, the has-been actors and actresses, cheap hotels and cheap people, the tag-end of Times Square. —feeling like the Cock of the Walk. Now he was a man of purpose again; a man with a purpose. If he hadn’t accidentally pulled the trigger and killed Fat Sam, the whole incident would have been just a joke. Now it was double murder; and that wasn’t the end.�
The Harlem scene. “A curtained doorway at the back led to the private club where money was the only requisite for admission. It was another world, a Harlem nightclub for home folks, like nothing else on earth. The atmosphere was both sensual and animal, thick, dense, odorous —But violence always lay cocked and ready in the smoke-filled, whiskey-fumed air. —It was a hangout for people whose business was vice—pimps � The prices were too high for working people. However, Negroes of the middle class—businessmen and professionals, doctors, lawyers, dentists and morticians—came when they were in the mood for slumming. Everyone kept their passions in their own backyard and tended strictly to their own business. Yet sex was the most predominant factor of the overall atmosphere.
—Linda Lou was singing: “Come to me, my melancholy baby, cuddle up and don’t you cry…� She was standing in a baby blue spotlight beside a white baby grand piano at which sat a slim dark man with shiny conked hair, making the soft run of notes sound like falling rain. -Negro woman’s blues voice which lies between soprano and contralto, and is husky on the deep notes and plaintive on the high notes� � “Keep an eye on that chappie,� he ordered. “Shamus?� the bouncer asked. “No, a city dick, but he’s got a sad look, and I don’t trust cops with a sad look about them. They ain’t sad for nothing.� “That’s no lie,� the bouncer said. � act was finished there was a smattering of applause. She knew it didn’t mean they didn’t like her singing; these people just didn’t believe in applause. During her break she went over and sat beside Jimmy. The Jive Fingers, a rhythm group, took over. The Jive Fingers began harmonizing on one of their own songs called “Don’t Blow Joe,� and all over the place big and little feet began patting time.� —Linda Lou -City Dick “These people in here don’t give a hoot in hell for who you are. If I tell them you’re trying to hurt me they’ll cut your throat and leave your carcass in some dirty gutter.� � “Don’t you believe me?� “I believe you,� he said sadly. “That’s what it all comes down to. Who believes who.� “Then get wise to yourself!� —the Jive Fingers filled the silence: “I’m gonna sit right down and write myself a letter, and make believe it came from you…� -she was on again. She began with an old favorite, “If this ain’t love it’ll have to do…� Jimmy heard her over the amplifier in the bar and went back into the club to listen.� —The Dick at LL’s table. -“numbed by a strange bewilderment. He felt lost in a situation which he did not understand. � Someone in the audience cried for “Rocks in My Bed� and she took it and gave out. � An instrumental trio—piano, bass, and drums—had taken over and were knocking themselves out with a vulgar, old-time tune…“Yass-yass-yass!� some loud-mouthed drunken madam shouted. The joint began rocking and jumping, reeling and rolling�. The instruments thundered and another drunken woman screamed uncontrollably, “It’s your ass-ass-ass!”…It’s your ass!� Walker —LL. “He got me suspended from my job. He’s put me under suspicion. Until I catch the killer, I’ll be under suspicion. I’ll never be reinstated on the force. I’m going to keep on following him until the killer shows himself. And the killer’s going to try to kill him the first opportunity he gets. You can bet your sweet life on that.� “The only thing he can do to help himself is to tell who the killer is,� he said in a positive tone of voice. Her face clouded again with suspicion and perplexity. “He’ll only just say it was you.� “That will get him killed for sure,� he said. —She stared into his bright blue eyes as she listened to his hypnotic voice. She felt as though he were casting a spell over her. —“What will be the difference if I tell you who the killer is?� she asked. He leaned forward again and held her gaze. “I will kill him,� She was repulsed by him and at the same time irresistibly drawn to him. He would kill a man, she thought. —“Your friend will go home with you. He’ll want to know what we’ve been talking about, what I’ve said to you. Don’t tell him. Continue to act as though you believe him implicitly. When I see a light in his room, I’ll come up to your flat to see what you’ve found out. Okay?� She wanted to tell him not to come, but she found herself saying. “All right,� against her will.� —Jive Fingers had just come on again and were giving out in a frenzy with: “It ain’t what you do but it’s the way that you do it…� Jimmy. “I just wished you hadn’t talked to that murdering son of a bitch,� “You act as if I wanted to talk to him; as if I had enjoyed it. —just did it for you.� “I know you did.� “You’re all I got,� he said. “If you don’t believe me, who will?� -She too was overcome by a sudden wave of tenderness. She stroked his kinky hair. It felt stiff and electric to her touch, inspiring an indefinable thrill. � “It’d just make it easier for us to get a case against him and get others to believe you too if he looked more like the type who’d do such a thing.� “If he looked like a murderer?� he exploded. “What’s a murderer supposed to look like?� “I mean if he looked vicious,� � But he doesn’t act as if he’s got any prejudice at all.� � he’s the man. I saw him as well as I see you.� -You were coming up the stairs and the first thing you knew somebody was shooting at you—� “Not somebody—him!� —“All you think is, Run, man, run for your life. But you see him all right. You see him in a way you’ll never forget him.� � He’d kill the killer, he had said, but she couldn’t believe he’d murder two defenseless colored men and shoot at Jimmy without warning. Is that possible? For him to shoot you without any reason at all?� “White men’ve been killing colored men for years for no reason you’d understand.� —he’s on the vice squad, too. There’s no telling what might happen to a man’s mind who constantly associates with criminals and prostitutes.� —“You don’t even believe me yourself, because of how he looks—� “How do you think he looks to them, who’re white like he is? They’ll think I’m the one who’s a schizophrene. Maybe you’re beginning to think so too, since you’ve talked to him.� “What I thought was, maybe we could figure out some way to get him out into the open. “I don’t know what to think anymore,� she confessed.� “Stay with me, honey,� she pleaded. “Hold me in your arms. I need you as much as you need me. Don’t run out on me.� “I need you too, but you’ve already run out on me,� he accused. “I’ll go my way alone.� Jimmy headed toward the elevator, moving like a sleepwalker, tight inside that he felt wooden and his breath wouldn’t go any deeper than his throat. But the emasculating notion persisted: His girl had turned against him for a white man � Jimmy wheeled about stricken gaze locked with Walker’s opaque blue stare. The next instant he was running. He was leaping up the stairs. He was running for his life.
Jimmy runs, and gets himself a gun� � “There’s a good show at the Apollo,� he said. “It’s a matinee today.� “You ought to catch it.� “What for?� -� might interest a man like you from Durham, North Carolina,� he said just as carefully. “Got one act by two comedians you ought to like. One of these comedians says where can I buy a gun? Other comedian says you ought to go to the Apollo, man. First comedian asks, they sells guns at the Apollo? Second comedian says naw, man, that’s a theatre where a man can get a seat First comedian asks how come all of that just to see a show? Second comedian says you want to buy a gun, don’t you? First comedian says sure. Second comedian says that’s the way I like to see shows.� Jimmy had got it. “Right,� he said. “I’d like to see that show.� “The price is right. Twenty bucks.� “Best time to be there is around three-thirty,� “Big or little?� he asked. “Not too big, not too little,� Jimmy said. “That’s what I always say,� the bartender agreed, looking relieved. “Give a woman that’s not too old and not too young.� “A buck, twenty.� Jimmy gave him two dollar bills, picked up a half dollar of the change. He slid from his stool and said, “I’m sure going to see that show.�
Waiting for the Apollo show —Jimmy � “read the titles of books by colored authors in the showcase of the hotel bookstore. Black No More, by George Schuyler, he read; Black Thunder, by arna bontemps; The Blacker the Berry, by Wallace Thurman; Black Metropolis, by Cayton and Drake; Black Boy, by Richard Wright; Banana Bottom, by Claude McKay; The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man, by James Weldon Johnson; The Conjure-Man Dies, by Rudolph Fisher, Not Without Laughter, by Langston Hughes.�
What? No Chester Himes? Well � Run Man Run� more of my highlights visible, but you better get yourself this read.
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Reading Progress
February 7, 2025
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February 7, 2025
– Shelved
February 24, 2025
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