E. K. Means: Is This a Title? It Is Not. It Is the Name of a Writer of Negro Stories, Who Has Made Himself So Completely the Writer of Negro Stories That His Book Needs No TitleMeans, E. K. (Eldred Kurtz)
General
E. K. Means: Is This a Title? It Is Not. It Is the Name of a Writer of Negro Stories, Who Has Made Himself So Completely the Writer of Negro Stories That His Book Needs No Title
Means, E. K. (Eldred Kurtz)
African Americans -- Fiction; Short stories, American
“Come out of dat attic, you little yellow-faced debbil!” she whooped.
“I’ll bust yo’ neck!”
XV
COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENSE.
On the first Tuesday in September the open spaces in front and on
the sides of the Tickfall courthouse filled up early with a crowd of
negroes. It was the occasion of the opening of the criminal term of the
district court, and all witnesses and talesmen were called to court
for the trial of Hitch Diamond, charged with murder, against the peace
and dignity of the commonwealth of Louisiana and the statutes made and
provided.
The witnesses and talesmen already sat in the court-room, along with as
many other people, mostly colored, as could squeeze in there. Even now,
at nine o’clock in the morning, the heat of that ill-ventilated room
was stifling, the odor was overpowering. Men sat on the bench seats,
on the back of the benches, on the ledges of the windows; they stood in
the aisles, in the corridors, on the stairways, and were ranged in rows
along the soiled and dusty walls.
Inside the low railing which divided the room, and nearest to the
chairs which the jurors were to occupy, Hitch Diamond sat at a long
table with Goldie Curtain by his side. In that crowd of people, either
white or black, Goldie was the one splotch of vivid coloring--her face
and hands and neck a beautiful orange in color, and her half-caste
beauty most striking and attractive. Hitch sat beside the table as
stolid and indifferent as a wooden man, but Goldie trembled, her
nervous fingers plaited in and out of each other like squirming snakes;
she was scared and shrinking, pitiable and lonely.
Just outside the low railing sat Ginny Babe Chew and Dinner Gaze,
directly behind the broad back of Hitch Diamond. Ginny slowly slapped
at her fat face with a turkey-wing fan. Her big mouth was clamped
shut like a steel trap, and her little green, greedy, pig eyes glared
through the rolls of facial fat with baleful, condemning gaze upon
everything and everybody around her.
A little farther away from Hitch, but on the same front seat with Ginny
Chew and Dinner Gaze, sat the Reverend Vinegar Atts and Tucky Sugg.
There was a window behind the jury-box, so that the light falling
over the heads of the jurors would fall full upon the faces of the
witnesses as they sat in the chair, and would illumine every line in
the faces of the lawyers as they presented their sides to the jury.
On the opposite side of the room there was another window, and within
this window, sitting precariously on the ledge, was Pap Curtain. He had
asked and obtained permission from Sheriff Flournoy to sit within the
bar on the ground that it was his son-in-law who was being tried for
his life.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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