Catfish Alley Read Online Free PDF

Reeves, that's all well and good, but I don't have time this morning to
escort you and this old black woman around the lumberyard. I'm sorry, but
you're going to have to come back another time."
    "So
you're saying that if we make an appointment, you'll take us through the
warehouse?"
    "Yes,
ma'am. I'll take you through it, or I'll get one of my boys to do it. But I'm
going to tell you right now. My lumberyard is not going to be part of some
trumped up African-American tour." He
says African-American as if the words are sour in his mouth. "I do that and I'll be out of
business in a year." He stands up and opens the door of his office.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, Mrs. Reeves."
     
    Grace
     
    When
I see the look on Roxanne's face as she comes out the door of the lumber
office, I know it didn't go well. Mouth all set in a straight line, forehead
all furrowed up. I can't say I'm surprised. I've known the Tanner family since
I was a little girl. White folks think the Tanners are upstanding citizens in
this community. But white folks are going to think what they want to think.
Delbert's daddy, Ray Tanner, has been dead about twenty-five years now, as I
recall. His son is just like him, though. Del Tanner might not be a Klansman,
but he thinks like one. I wonder for the hundredth time why I'm putting myself
through this.
    Roxanne
opens the car door, throws her purse down on the seat between us, and plops
herself down. She grips the steering wheel and looks out through the windshield
at that building like she can't figure out what just happened. She turns to me
and starts to say something, stops, starts again, and finally just says,
"Miss Clark, that didn't go very well."
    I
figure she might as well get used to it. If this white woman is going to try to
head up an African-American tour in the town of Clarksville, she'd better get a
little more realistic about what she's dealing with. Poor thing, all caught up
in her romantic ideas about Scarlett O'Hara and how people loved their darkies.
She's never seen what's right under her nose.
    "What
happened?" I ask.
    "He
... well, he ..."
    I
have a hunch Delbert Tanner probably used some strong words Roxanne is not
accustomed to hearing. Her social set prides itself on their enlightened
attitude toward black folk. But when it comes right down to it they're just as
uncomfortable as Del Tanner's type.
    Roxanne
is talking now, trying to be tactful. "It sounds like he's very busy
today. Something about a load of lumber coming in any minute now. He wants us
to schedule an appointment to look at the warehouse ... Miss Clark, this is
just one old building. Aren't there others? I mean, surely there are
better-looking places than this?"
    Bless
her heart. "How about you drive me over to Sanders Cafe? We'll have a
piece of pie and I'll tell you a story about that old warehouse."
    Obviously
Roxanne Reeves has been taught to respect her elders, even old black women. She
doesn't argue.
    "All
right then, we'll go over to the cafe, if that's what you want. Did you want to
show me anything else today?"
    "No.
We'll just start here for today."
     
    Sanders
Cafe is one of the few places in Clarksville where you see just about the same
number of white folks as black. I figured Mrs. Reeves won't be too nervous
about us coming here together. I don't get to town much these days, so I get
stopped twice before we're in the door with folks speaking and asking after me.
When we walk in, several of the black folk seated around nod and smile. Of
course, I've got to chat for a minute with Mary Ellen.
    "Hey,
Miss Grace! It's so good to see you. What brings you to town today?" Mary
Ellen comes around the counter to give me a big hug. She's a sweet girl — I
believe she was one of my students sometime in the seventies. Making a good
living for herself with this cafe. She has the place fixed up real nice, even
got each room of the old house painted a different color, white curtains in the
windows. I like it because it's homey,