Hathaway points—“this child is not Caesar’s! This child is a child of God! And, so long as there’s breath in my body, THIS CHILD WILL NOT ATTEND SCHOOL WITH NIGGERS!!!”
Ruth watches the blond madonna and child. It’s clear the young woman knows what’s coming, her bright blue eyes watch for it, wait for it. And when it comes—the communal roar of paternal protection, the howl and bellow of the displaced beast unleashed—she slowly, gratefully bows her head. As the furious men bellow their anger and agreement and intention, pretty Cassie plants a reassuring kiss on her baby’s cheek and awaits her next cue.
Billy Hathaway waits, too. Arms outstretched, he lets the roar rise and swell and wash over him like a roiling wave off the ocean and, as it recedes, he steps right, and tenderly helps Cassie return to her seat.
Striding back to the edge of the stage, he leans forward, eyeballs the crowd, and asks them, softly, “How, you want to know, did this insanity happen? What demon, you want to know, drove the Supreme Court away from one nation under God? The answer is in five little letters.” Hathaway holds up his left mitt, emphasizing each letter with a jabbing thumb or half-finger. “N.Double-A.C.P.”
The crowd growls angrily.
Hathaway’s catalog good looks have become suddenly too sharp to sell Sears church shirts. His tone drips derision. “The National Association for the ADVANCEMENT of Niggers has done its job! In New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, the local school boards have done the Supreme Court’s bidding and let the Niggers in! Let ’em in, I tell you! The question is, will YOU? Will YOU let the Niggers into YOUR local schools?”
“NO!” the beast rises up and roars.
“No, you say? No?” Hathaway’s contempt cracks like a bullwhip above their heads. “Well, lemme tell you, folks, a lot of parents in Baltimore said no, too. But their local school board, their local Sheriff said yes, and, since September, they’ve let the Niggers in!”
“NO!” the beast bellows.
“My friends, in two weeks’ time, you get to choose. In America, we call it a vote. And, make no mistake about it, every single vote from here on out—whether it’s for school board, or Sheriff, or Senator, or Governor, or President—is a vote either for, or against, segregation. It’s a simple choice really. Do you let the Niggers in? Yes or no?”
“NO!”
“Then cast your votes carefully, my friends. Choose the candidates who’ll say no when it counts.” At this, Hathaway makes a sweeping gesture to Sheriff DeLuth and the two other men on the dais. The three of them stand as one and nod confidently to the crowd as if to say, “Trust us—we’ll say no.”
The crowd yells and applauds their own: “Yeh!” “Kick Ass’ll say no!” “Give ’em hell, Kick Ass!”
Hathaway nods to the candidates, who nod to the crowd then sit, serious, in their seats. “And, what shall we do with those who turn against us?” His tone cracks the whip. “How shall we deal with the turncoats, the Commie Fifth Columnists who take up the side of the N.Double-A.C.P.? I’ll tell you what we’ll do—we’ll follow the example of JEE-sus with the money changers in the temple. We’ll cast ’em out! We will CAST THEIR ASSES OUT!”
“YES!” the beast bellows. “CAST ’EM OUT!”
“But that, my friends, takes work, takes organization,” he advises, wiping sweat, eyeballing them into silence. “It takes leadership and membership and airplaned announcements to get out the vote. Now, I don’t mind takin’ on the leadership role—I’m doin’ it as much for Cassie and little Billy as I am for you—but to build a national association, All White is All Right, A.W.A.R.—and make no mistake, this is a war for the soul of this country—we need MEMBERS! And, folks, it don’t take much to be a member.” Hathaway holds up a small white card. “Just five little dollars and you’re full-fledged! Can you do that,
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