Challenging the Mississippi Fire Bombers by Dann Jim;Harris John;

Author:Dann, Jim;Harris, John;
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-926824-89-5
Publisher: Baraka Books
Published: 2013-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

It was late when we arrived at the county farm and we were ushered into the pitch-black barn where we had been previously incarcerated during the Drew arrests. The two summer months had not diminished the smell of the rat droppings, and in fact there seemed to have been a notable increase in the filth. There were insufficient mattresses so the seven or eight of us spent an uncomfortable and crowded night; Otis, in particular, had some trouble breathing in the foul air. In the morning when we were served the usual fare of coffee, molasses and biscuits we asked the trusty to convey to the captain that we would like mops and brooms to clean the place. This he did, but we didn’t think much would come of it. In short order, however, arrived some prisoners carrying mops, buckets and brooms along with the smiling captain, who couldn’t believe that the famously lazy civil rights workers would actually want to work. But this we did with a vengeance; Hercules worked no less at one of his famous twelve labors. We swept, scrubbed and washed all morning, not only the floors and walls, but also the toilet and washbasin; trusties carried the buckets full of excrement and dust out of the barn and, before the afternoon “dinner,” the surprised captain arrived, inspected the scene and even mumbled a few words that could be taken as complimentary. For dinner, besides the cup of beans and piece of cornbread, he even authorized us to get a slice or two of tomato. That evening we were able to breathe normally and get a good night’s sleep on the now sufficient number of mattresses; in the morning we were bailed out, but the work on that barn was well spent since we would soon return.

Unrepentant we decided the next thrust would be on Highway 82. Just north of the Indianola downtown the intersection of highways 49 and 82 gave rise to several small eateries, motels and gas stations. Many of these were local franchises of national chains and, one would think, ready to obey the new Civil Rights Law. So in those late September days we made it a practice to test their compliance. The results were not what one would expect from such a well-advertised law-and-order state. We started with Dairy Queen, dropping off Charley Scattergood a block away, who then walked to the counter and without trouble ordered an ice cream cone for ten cents(!). As he was slowly enjoying the cone, I dropped off Otis and John, who likewise ordered what he was eating; when the new black customers arrived they were told the price was one dollar! Scattergood intervened and insisted that he had only paid ten cents; the flustered owner at first winked and signaled to Scattergood to be quiet, but Charley was only the more loud and firm; so the owner (or franchisee, to be exact) slammed the window shut and said he was closed. We then piled into our car for the Travelodge Motel to book a night’s lodging.

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