In school the next day all the children were talking about a murder in Perry, a town seventy miles northwest of Rosewood.
“They killed the teacher!”
“Who killed her, the students?”
“No! Some bad man, he cut her throat when she was walking home Saturday night.”
“That’s terrible!”
“What if some crazy man comes here, starts chopping people up?”
“Let’s worry about your spelling test,” Mrs. Carrier interrupted, frowning.
The students all groaned at the thought of their test, but it served to distract them from the gruesome talk of murder.
At four o’clock Rose was in the kitchen working when Sylvester came in looking for something to eat. Sarah was at the worktable, cutting biscuits, and Marlene was peeling potatoes, so Rose poured coffee and cut pie for him.
“You’re the friendliest waitress in this place,” he teased her.
“You better leave me a big tip then,” she sassed him right back.
Sylvester asked for another slice of pie and opened the newspaper he had brought in with him. Rose served him his pie and went back to the vegetables she had been chopping.
“Paper says that part of the colored section in Perry was burned down last night,” Sylvester told Sarah as he read.
“Lord have mercy, those poor people,” Sarah replied.
“’Says here that they burned down the Mason’s hall, the amusement hall and Lord help us, they burned down the school. I hope that none of that mischief spreads down here. There’s always some poor colored takes the blame, whether he’s guilty or no. Start burning down one house, everybody gets crazy, burns down a few more. Next thing you know, people being hurt or killed, have nothing to do with anything except they’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Rose was standing, stiff, staring straight ahead. Her knife fell from her suddenly limp fingers onto the table top with a clatter.
Sylvester looked up at her, took her by the arm and pulled her down, limp, into a chair.
”Sit down, you’re gray as a ghost,” he told her.
Sarah gave Sylvester a sharp look, frowning, and came over to Rose.
“Get this girl a glass of water, son, and quit talking about all that.”
“Drink this, now,” she told Rose, wiping Rose’s face with a towel and holding the glass for her. “Don’t worry, Perry’s a long ways away from here. Nothing will happen. We’re fine here, nothing’s going to happen as long as I’m around.”
“My daddy...”
“I know honey, I know. Don’t worry, you’re here with me,” Sarah murmured as she leaned over to hold Rose. “All that’s a long ways away and a long time ago. You’re safe here, we’ll care for you. Better now?” she asked.
Rose wiped her face again, nodded.
Sylvester, a concerned look on his face, took her hand.
”Rose honey, I’m so sorry. I’m a fool, I wasn’t thinking.”
“That’s all right, I’m all right,” she told him, and managed to give him a smile.
“Come on now, you come with Roy and me, walk over to Uncle James' house. Go tell Roy, and A.T. too, he’ll want to go see Minnie Lee. You go tell them, all right?”
“Yes sir. I’ll get my coat.”
After Rose went for the boys, Sarah turned to Sylvester.
“I know you were just careless son, but you ought to be more thoughtful. Watch what you say. Poor thing, she better not have bad dreams tonight.”
“Mama, I couldn’t be more sorry. I just wasn’t thinking, talking like that.”
“There’s fools enough what don’t think before they speak,” Sarah muttered as she returned to her biscuits. “Let’s try thinking first, maybe see how that works out.”
That night after she got ready for bed, Rose sat for a long time looking at the picture of her mother she kept on top of the dresser in her room.
I wish I had a picture of him, she thought. It’s hard to remember his face, it’s only been three years but I can hardly remember him. I wish I had Mama here with me. I hope she’s warm and safe and happy.
Queen came back from brushing her teeth, and both girls got in bed.
“What’s wrong, Rose?” Queen whispered.
“It’s hard to explain, I don’t know how to tell you.”
“What happened today with Uncle Syl?”
“Nothing, really. He was talking and I got scared, that’s all.”
“Scared about what?”
“He said they were burning down buildings in Perry, on account of the murder of that school teacher.”
“Oh Rose, Perry is a long ways away. It’s twice as far as Gainesville, and that’s pretty far. No one from there will come here.”
“It’s not that. It just made me remember.”
“Remember what, Honey? You can tell me, it’s all right. I won’t tell anybody if you don’t want.”
“I don’t care if you tell. My daddy was killed in Chicago three years ago,” Rose whispered. “There was a riot when a colored boy swam where the white people swim. They killed that boy by throwing rocks at him until he drown.”
Queen gasped.
“When the police wouldn’t arrest the men that killed him, the people on the colored side of the beach went crazy, started throwing things and shouting, and a huge fight broke out between the police and the colored people and the whites.
“The riots went on for weeks,” Rose continued. “They burned down the building we lived in. They burned down dozens of buildings. Hundreds of people didn’t have a place to live. We had to move in with some other family, didn’t really have enough room for us but there was no place else to go. Most of the buildings that burned down were apartment buildings where colored people lived, so we couldn’t find a new place.
“Daddy was just walking home one morning after working all night in the meat packing plant. He was just walking home, Queen, walking home from work. A crowd of white men saw him down an alley and they started chasing him, he ran and ran for blocks but they kept on after him.”
Rose was holding Queen’s hands and she looked in Queen’s eyes, not speaking for a while. Queen was crying and Rose reached over to wipe away her tears.
“The police never did find out just who shot him. Too many crimes like that, they said, for two weeks there were riots and mobs burned down buildings almost every day. That’s when Mama stopped talking. Didn’t talk for almost a year,” she added.
“Mama couldn’t work for a long time. We went hungry a lot, moved into a one-room walk up. We were cold and hungry most every day. Mama was sick a lot, me too, you ever notice how you get sick so easy when you’re tired all the time? Mama almost died. Things were bad for three whole years.
“Mama met Mister Thompson last year. He has money from his funeral homes, he does all right I guess. He wanted her but not me. So I came here. But now that Mama has a husband, she doesn’t have to work. Doesn’t have to worry. She and I have new clothes, and I’m happy here. But I miss her. All the time I think, ‘Mama would like this’ or ‘Mama would laugh if I told her that’. And him, I miss Daddy too. I miss our family, the way it all was with us three.”
“I’m so sorry, Rose.” Queen leaned over to kiss Rose, smoothed the covers over her shoulder.
“Oh, Queen, I’m sorry too.” Rose snuggled down in the covers, closed her eyes. “I feel better here, though. I have you, and Auntie, and everyone. It’s good to be here. I just wish it never happened, that’s all.”
From the Chicago Daily Journal, July 19, 1919:
Negro Fights Futilely Against Crowd in Loop
Shot When He Ceases Running to Battle Whites Second Time
A lone negro, evidently on his way home from work in the loop at 6 a.m., was shot to death near the corner of Wabash Avenue and Adams Street after he had failed in a helpless, desperate fight to escape from the mob of white men who bore down upon him.
The crowd was driven early in the morning from the streets of the black belt, where they had passed a rageful night. The mob marched north in Michigan avenue shouting, brandishing clubs, baseball bats, occasionally shooting revolvers. The avenue was free of any negro victims.
The procession turned west on Adams Street. They spied their victim on the corner of Wabash Avenue. The negro, warned by their howling threats, ran south. He threw away his hat and coat as he fled, a score of white men, wildly running after him.
Seeks Shelter in Doorway
Dodging rocks and clubs which were hurled after him, he tried to find shelter in the doorway of a Thompson lunchroom at 105 South Wabash avenue.
The pursuers were almost past his hiding place before they checked their speed. Three or four men fell upon the negro. Battered with their clubs, he tore himself out of their clutch and ran back the way that he had come.
The terrified man led the race west on Adams Street. Then, panting for breath, his head bleeding from wounds, he gasped and faced the crowd. Bullets from revolvers found their target and he fell to the pavement, almost directly in front of the Delco restaurant at 26 East Adams Street.
Kick Lifeless Body
The mob kicked the lifeless body. Then, ignoring the terrified clerks and waitresses who rushed from the restaurants and the nearby cigar stores, they turned back to Wabash Avenue. The police arrived as the mob was fleeing. Four bullets had pierced the man's chest. No weapons were found on him.