"Good! That's very good. People want to hear that. Our people need to have someone say that to them. Why don't you let me send out an interviewer? I'll have her there in twenty minutes."
"You're very insistent, but I'm very busy," I said.
And if Brother Wrestrum hadn't been wig-wagging, trying to tell me what to say I would have refused. Instead, I consented. Perhaps, I thought, a little friendly publicity wouldn't hurt. Such a magazine would reach many timid souls living far from the sound of our voices. I had only to remember to say little about my past.
"I'm sorry for this interruption, Brother," I said, putting down the phone and looking into his curious eyes. "I'll bring your idea to the attention of the committee as quickly as possible."
I stood to discourage further talk and he got up, fairly bursting to continue.
"Well, I've got to see some other brothers myself," he said, "I'll be seeing you soon."
"Anytime," I said, avoiding his hand by picking up some papers.
Going out, he turned with his hand on the door frame, frowning. "And, Brother, don't forget what I said about that thing you got on your desk. Things like that don't do nothin' but cause confusion. They ought to be kept out of sight."
I was glad to see him go. The idea of his trying to tell me what to say in a conversation only part of which he could have heard! And it was obvious that he disliked Clifton. Well, I disliked him. And all that foolishness and fear over the leg chain. Tarp had worn it for nineteen years and could laugh, but this big --
Then I forgot Brother Wrestrum until about two weeks later at our downtown headquarters, where a meeting had been called to discuss strategy.
EVERYONE had arrived before me. Long benches were arranged at one side of the room, which was hot and filled with smoke. Usually such meetings sounded like a prizefight or a smoker, but now everyone was silent. The white brothers looked uncomfortable and some of the Harlem brothers belligerent. Nor did they leave me time to think about it. No sooner had I apologized for my lateness than Brother Jack struck the table with his gavel, addressing his first remarks to me.
"Brother, there seems to be a serious misunderstanding among some of the brothers concerning your work and recent conduct," he said.
I stared at him blankly, my mind groping for connections. "I'm sorry, Brother Jack," I said, "but I don't understand. You mean there's something wrong with my work?"
"So it seems," he said, his face completely neutral. "Certain charges have just been made ..."
"Charges? Have I failed to carry out some directive?"
"About that there seems to be some doubt. But we'd better let Brother Wrestrum speak of this," he said.
"Brother Wrestrum!"
I was shocked. He hadn't been around since our talk, and I looked across the table into his evasive face, seeing him stand with a slouch, a rolled paper protruding from his pocket.
"Yes, Brothers," he said, "I brought charges, much as I hated to have to do it. But I been watching the way things have been going and I've decided that if they don't stop soon, this brother is going to make a fool out of the Brotherhood!"
There were some sounds of protest.
"Yes, I said it and I mean it! This here brother constitutes one of the greatest dangers ever confronted by our movement."
I looked at Brother Jack; his eyes were sparkling. I seemed to see traces of a smile as he scribbled something on a pad. I was becoming very hot.
"Be more specific, Brother," Brother Garnett, a white brother, said. "These are serious charges and we all know that the brother's work has been splendid. Be specific."
"Sho, I'll be specific," Wrestrum boomed, suddenly whipping the paper from his pocket, unrolling it and throwing it on the table. "This here's what I mean!"
I took a step forward; it was a portrait of me looking out from a magazine page.
"Where did that come from?" I said.
"That's it," he boomed. "Make out like you never seen it."
"But I haven't," I said. "I really haven't."
"Don't lie to these white brothers. Don't lie!"
"I'm not lying. I never saw it before in my life. But suppose I had, what's wrong with it?"
"You know what's wrong!" Wrestrum said.
"Look, I don't know anything. What's on your mind? You have us all here, so if you have anything to say, please get it over with."
"Brothers, this man is a -- a -- opportunist! All you got to do is read this article to see. I charge this man with using the Brotherhood movement to advance his own selfish interests."
"Article?" Then I remembered the interview which I had forgotten. I met the eyes of the others as they looked from me to Wrestrum.
"And what does it say about us?" Brother Jack said, pointing to the magazine.
"Say?" Wrestrum said. "It doesn't say anything. It's all about him. What he thinks, what he does; what he's going to do. Not a word about the rest of us who's been building the movement before he was ever heard of. Look at it, if you think I'm lying. Look at it!"
Brother Jack turned to me. "Is this true?"
"I haven't read it," I said. "I had forgotten that I was interviewed."
"But you remember it now?" Brother Jack said.
"Yes, I do now. And he happened to be in the office when the appointment was made."
They were silent.
"Hell, Brother Jack," Wrestrum said, "it's right here in black and white. He's trying to give people the idea that he's the whole Brotherhood movement."
"I'm doing nothing of the sort. I tried to get the editor to interview Brother Tod Clifton, you know that. Since you know so little about what I'm doing, why not tell the brothers what you're up to."
"I'm exposing a double-dealer, that's what I'm doing. I'm exposing you. Brothers, this man is a pure dee opportunist!"
"All right," I said, "expose me if you can, but stop the slander."
"I'll expose you, all right," he said, sticking out his chin. "I'm going to. He's doing everything I said, Brothers. And I'll tell you something else -- he's trying to sew things up so that the members won't move unless he tells them to. Look at a few weeks ago when he was off in Philly. We tried to get a rally going and what happens? Only about two hundred people turned out. He's trying to train them so they won't listen to no one but him."
"But, Brother, didn't we decide that the appeal had been improperly phrased?" a brother interrupted.
"Yeah, I know, but that wasn't it ..."
"But the committee analyzed the appeal and --"
"I know, Brothers, and I don't aim to dispute the committee. But, Brothers, it just seems that way 'cause you don't know this man. He works in the dark, he's got some kind of plot ..."
"What kind of plot?" one of the brothers said, leaning across the table.
"Just a plot," Wrestrum said. "He aims to control the movement uptown. He wants to be a dictator!"
The room was silent except for the humming of fans. They looked at him with a new concern.
"These are very serious charges, Brother," two brothers said in unison.
"Serious? I know they're serious. That's how come I brought them. This opportunist thinks that because he's got a little more education he's better than anybody else. He's what Brother Jack calls a petty -- petty individualist!"
He struck the conference table with his fist, his eyes showing small and round in his taut face. I wanted to punch that face. It no longer seemed real, but a mask behind which the real face was probably laughing, both at me and at the others. For he couldn't believe what he had said. It just wasn't possible. He was the plotter and from the serious looks on the committee's faces he was getting away with it. Now several brothers started to speak at once, and Brother Jack knocked for order.