The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored ManJohnson, James Weldon
General
The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man
Johnson, James Weldon
African American men -- Fiction; Racially mixed people -- Fiction
On the day following our night at the "Club" we slept until late in
the afternoon; so late that beginning search for work was entirely out
of the question. This did not cause me much worry, for I had more than
three hundred dollars, and New York had impressed me as a place where
there was lots of money and not much difficulty in getting it. It is
needless to inform my readers that I did not long hold this opinion.
We got out of the house about dark, went to a restaurant on Sixth
Avenue and ate something, then walked around for a couple of hours.
I finally suggested that we visit the same places we had been in
the night before. Following my suggestion, we started first to the
gambling house. The man on the door let us in without any question; I
accredited this to my success of the night before. We went straight
to the "crap" room, and I at once made my way to a table, where I was
rather flattered by the murmur of recognition which went around. I
played in up and down luck for three or four hours; then, worn with
nervous excitement, quit, having lost about fifty dollars. But I was
so strongly possessed with the thought that I would make up my losses
the next time I played that I left the place with a light heart.
When we got into the street our party was divided against itself; two
were for going home at once and getting to bed. They gave as a reason
that we were to get up early and look for jobs. I think the real
reason was that they had each lost several dollars in the game. I
lived to learn that in the world of sport all men win alike, but lose
differently; and so gamblers are rated, not by the way in which they
win, but by the way in which they lose. Some men lose with a careless
smile, recognizing that losing is a part of the game; others curse
their luck and rail at fortune; and others, still, lose sadly; after
each such experience they are swept by a wave of reform; they resolve
to stop gambling and be good. When in this frame of mind it would take
very little persuasion to lead them into a prayer-meeting. Those in
the first class are looked upon with admiration; those in the second
class are merely commonplace; while those in the third are regarded
with contempt. I believe these distinctions hold good in all the
ventures of life. After some minutes one of my friends and I succeeded
in convincing the other two that a while at the "Club" would put us
all in better spirits; and they consented to go, on our promise not
to stay longer than an hour. We found the place crowded, and the same
sort of thing going on which we had seen the night before. I took a
seat at once by the side of the piano player, and was soon lost
to everything except the novel charm of the music. I watched the
performer with the idea of catching the trick, and during one of his
intermissions I took his place at the piano and made an attempt to
imitate him, but even my quick ear and ready fingers were unequal to
the task on first trial.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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