Despite strict instructions my planes had not been kept in proper condition and I had great difficulty getting mechanics to service them. There were plenty of skilled men unemployed and though they were not eager to earn dollars they were willing to work for other rewards. But the pervading atmosphere of tension and anxiety made concentration difficult; they bungled out of impatience, committed stupidities they would normally be incapable of; they quit without cause, flew into rages at the machines, the tools, their fellows, fate, at or without the slightest provocation. My pilot was surly and hilarious by turn and I suspected him of drinking, which didnt add to my confidence in our safety. We flew low over railroadtracks stretching an empty length to the horizon, over smokeless factorychimneys, airports whose runways were broken and whose landinglights were dark. The land was green and rich, the industrial life imposed upon it till yesterday had vanished, leaving behind it the bleaching skeleton of its being. The field upon which we came down seemed in slightly better repair than others we had sighted. The only other ship was an antique biplane which deserved housing in a museum. As I looked around the deserted landingstrip a tall Negro emerged leisurely from one of the buildings and walked toward us. "Where are the airport officials?" I asked rather sharply, for I didnt relish being greeted by a janitor. "I am the chief dispatcher. In fact, I am the entire personnel at the moment." My pilot, standing behind me, broke in. "Boy, where're the white folks around here?" The chief dispatcher looked at him steadily a long moment before answering. "I imagine you will find people of various shades all over town, including those allegedly white. Was there anyone in particular you were interested in or are you solely concerned with pigmentation?" "Why, you goddam--" I thought it advisable to prevent a possible altercation. I recalled Le ffacase's articles on the Black South which I had considered vastly overdrawn. Evidently they were not, for the chocolatecolored man spoke with all the ease and assurance of unquestioned authority. "I want to get to a Miss Francis at--" I consulted my notes and gave him the address. "Can you get me a taxi or car?" He smiled gravely. "We are without such luxuries at present, I regret to say. But there will be a bus along in about twenty minutes." It had been a long time since I suffered the wasted time and inconvenience of public transportation. However, there was no help for it and I resigned myself philosophically. I walked with the chief dispatcher into the airport waitingroom, dull with the listless air, not of unoccupancy, but disuse. "Not much air travel," I remarked idly. "Yours is the first plane in a month." "I wonder you bother to keep the airport open at all."