THREE, FOUR, SHUT THE DOOR
Date: 2015-10-07; view: 714.
After W. Saroyan
There was an old two-story yellow house in Fielding Street that year. We used to go there and sit on the front steps and watch the automobiles on the road and act as if we lived in the house. It was a big house and we didn't know anything about it. When Mr. Feakins caught us Johnny said to him, "We didn't know it was your house."
It burned down that year. It was one of the biggest fires the people of our town ever saw. Everybody in town saw the fire. It was in September and at night. It was a cold dark night and then everybody saw the colour of fire in the dark winter sky. It was supper-time and everybody in town left his supper on the table and went to the fire. Some ran, some rode bicycles, and the rich people came in automobiles. It was very pretty and awful. The sky was so black and the fire was so bright in the black sky, it was awful.
Everybody was excited and wanted to know how it happened. Who did it? everybody asked. A lot of people cried. They knew nobody was in the house, but they cried.
I and Johnny used to go to the old yellow house and sit on the front steps. Johnny was a Negro who was almost white. Nobody liked Johnny. His own brothers didn't like him.
But Johnny didn't set fire to the house.1
They frightened him and asked him a lot of questions, but he didn't set fire to the house.
Sheriff Appley frightened him greatly.
1 didn't set fire to the house — íå ïîäæèãàë äîì
"Why did you do it?" he said.
"I didn't do it," Johnny said. "Really I didn't. What could I want to burn down Mr. Feakins's house for? I didn't do it. You can ask anybody."
"Anybody?" Sheriff Appley said. "Who?"
"You can ask Glenn," Johnny said.
"Glenn?" the Sheriff said. "Who is Glenn?"
"Glenn Lyle," Johnny said.
"What are you talking about?" the Sheriff said.
"Ask him," Johnny said.
"Do you mean Judge Lyle's boy Glenn?" the Sheriff said.
"Yes, sir," Johnny said. "Ask Glenn if I did it."
"What does Glenn Lyle know about it?" the Sheriff said.
"Glenn is my friend," Johnny said. "We used to sit on the steps of that house all the time."
"You are a Negro, aren't you?" the Sheriff said.
"Yes, sir," Johnny said, "I'm a Negro."
"You look like a Negro," the Sheriff said. "Judge Lyle's boy Glenn cannot be your friend. You are telling another lie."
"No, sir," Johnny said. "Ask Glenn. He'll tell you."
Johnny was trembling when I walked into the Sheriff's office. It was late at night and the house was burned down. It was still smoking.
"Are you Glenn Lyle?" the Sheriff said.
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Are you Judge Lyle's boy?" he said.
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Do you know this Negro?" he said.
"Yes," I said, "I know Johnny."
"Do you see?" Johnny said.
"How do you come to know1 a Negro?" the Sheriff said.
"Johnny's father is gardener at our house," I said.
"How do you come to have a Negro for a friend?" the Sheriff said.
"Ask him," Johnny said. "Ask him if I did it. He'll tell you. Did I do it, Glenn?" he said.
"How do you come to have a Negro for a friend?" the Sheriff said.
1 how do you come to know — îòêóäà òû çíàåøü
2 How do you come to have a Negro for a friend? — Êàê ñëó÷è
ëîñü, ÷òî íåãð — òâîé äðóã?
He could frighten Johnny, but he couldn't frighten me. I didn't care1 what Johnny was. What if he was a Negro? What if his mother was a Negro and his father a white man? I didn't care about that. Johnny Brooklyn was my friend because we had grown up together. Johnny's father had been gardener at our house as far as I could remember. Johnny had always been my friend.
"I think I can have anybody I like for my friend," I said.
"Does your father know you have a Negro for a friend?" the Sheriff said.
"If he doesn't know this," I said, "he knows nothing at all."
"At all," Johnny said. "Yes sir, Mr. Appley," he said, "ask Glenn if I did it."
"Did this Negro set fire to Mr. Feakins's old yellow house?" the Sheriff said.
"No more than you did," I said. "All right," the Sheriff said. "Can you give me a polite answer? You are Judge Lyle's boy but it doesn't mean that you can give me a rude answer. Don't speak to me like that. Tell me the truth."
"He didn't do it," I said. "Who did it?" the Sheriff said. I knew who, but I was not going to tell. It was not important now.
"I don't know who did it," I said. "Johnny didn't do it." "Did you do it?" the Sheriff said. "No more than you did it," I said. The Sheriff didn't like the way I was answering his questions. I think he could tell that I knew who had done it, but he knew who had done it too. He knew as well as I knew that Mr. Feakins had set fire to his own house. The Sheriff knew why. Anybody who knew anything about Mr. Feakins and the old house and what happened in the house nine years ago knew Mr. Feakins was the man who had set fire to the house.
Mr. Feakins was dead and they wanted to blame Johnny for the fire just because he was a Negro who wasn't black, whose father was a white man. Just because they found Mr. Feakins dead when they ran into his room at the hotel, they decided to blame Johnny. Well, they were wrong.
1I didn't care — ìíå âñå ðàâíî
"You can't give me such a rude answer," the Sheriff said. "I'm Sheriff of this whole district, and I shall not allow a boy of ten to talk to me that way."
"I'm eleven," I said. .
"Ten or eleven," the Sheriff said. "I shall not allow you
to be rude to me. Sit still, boys, and give me a polite answer. Somebody has set fire to the house and I must try to
catch him." „
«It isn't Johnny," I said, "and it isn't me.
«You used to go to that yellow house with this Negro and
sit on the steps and walk around in the yard, didn't you?
the Sheriff said.
"Almost every day during summer holidays,” I said.
"That's better," the Sheriff said. "That's a polite answer I have my duty and I'm going to do it I know you ought to be at home and in bed at this hour of the night, but I must do my duty. This fire tonight was the biggest fire we have ever had in our town."
"I saw the fire," I said.
«I think everybody saw it," the Sheriff said.
It was very quiet in the Sheriff's office. There were twenty or thirty people outside on the lawn, but they weren't
making much noise. ,,
They were just waiting to find out who did it, so they could take him away from the Sheriff. I heard it when I was on my way into the Sheriff's office. They mentioned Johnny Brooklyn and they laughed. The white people hated him because he was white and his father was a white man and the Negroes hated him for the same reason.
Johnny was greatly frightened. There was only I and Johnny and Sheriff Appley and Under-Shenff Tad Grover in the office. Tad didn't talk because he knew who had set fire to the house and he didn't want to frighten a little Negro boy just because he was white and just because his father was Mr. Feakins. Tad just sat at his desk and kept silence.
"All the people in the town are excited by the fire, the
Sheriff said.
"I didn't do it," Johnny said. "May I go home?
"It's better for you to go home with me tonight, I said.
"Sit still," the Sheriff said to Johnny. "There are many people outside who think you did it. I shall take care of them. You must sit still. If you didn't do it, nobody in this
whole district will do anything to you. All I want is a polite answer from Judge Lyle's boy here."
"I'll give you a polite answer, Mr. Appley," I said.
«That's all I want," the Sheriff said. "It's bad enough when they lynch a grown-up Negro, let alone a boy of ten."
"I'm eleven," Johnny said.
"Ten or eleven," the Sheriff said, "nothing like that must happen under my nose. I don't want it."
"I'll take care of those hooligans outside," he said. "I and Tad will send them home when the time comes."
Tad said nothing.
"You used to go to that yellow house with this Negro boy," the Sheriff said. “Tell me how it happened."
"I don't know," I said. "We often went around town together during summer holidays and one day we found the yellow house and went along the path and sat on the front steps. It was a big house and we used to sit on the steps every day and watch the automobiles on the road."
"I think that's true," the Sheriff said. "Go on and tell me everything. I don't want to keep two schoolboys all night. I'll send those hooligans home in two minutes when the time comes and we'll take you home in our automobile."
"I don't think you'll take Johnny to his house," I said. "Let him stay at our house tonight."
"All right," the Sheriff said. «Go on and tell me what happened."
"Well," I said, "one day we decided to go into the house and find out what was in it. We tried the front door and it was locked. We went to the back door and it was locked too. I got up on Johnny's shoulders and opened a window and we went into the house."
"Go on," the Sheriff said.
"Well, it was a nice house. There were a lot of rooms and there were pictures on the walls and there was this piano that Mr. Feakins left in the house. It's all burned down now, I think."
"All right," the Sheriff said, "the piano. What about it?"1
"Nothing," I said, "except we used to play it. We didn't know the house belonged to Mr. Feakins. We didn't know who it belonged to. Johnny used to say, 'Who owns this fine house? Why is nobody living in this fine house?'"
1 What about it? — ×òî òû çíàåøü î íåì?
"Is that what you used to say?" the Sheriff asked Johnny.
"Yes, sir," Johnny said. "It was a big house, full of fine things, and nobody was living in it."
"Do you know why?" the Sheriff said.
"I don't know," Johnny said.
The Sheriff looked at Tad Grover.
"All right," the Sheriff said, "go on."
"Well," I said, "one day while we were playing the piano we heard footsteps and we ran out of the house through the back door. It was Mr. Feakins. We ran as fast as we could, but he caught us at the fence. He was very angry and excited. He said, 'What are you doing in my house?' And then Johnny said, 'We didn't know it was your house. We don't know anything."
"What happened?" the Sheriff said.
"Well," I said, "at first Mr. Feakins was very angry with us. He even struck Johnny."
"Did he strike you?" the Sheriff asked Johnny.
"Yes, sir," Johnny said.
The Sheriff turned around again and looked at Tad Grover but Tad kept silence.
"Then," I said, "Mr. Feakins acted in a strange way."
"What do you mean?" the Sheriff said.
"Well," I said, "we thought he was crying, only he wasn't, he was talking to himself."
"What did he say?" the Sheriff said.
"He said a lot of things," I said, "but I remember one thing."
"What was it?" the Sheriff said.
"Well," I said, "He was sorry he had struck Johnny, and then he asked us to go back into the house with him. He was very quiet in the house. When he closed the door of the room where the piano was, he said, 'Three, four, shut the door.'"
"Three, four, shut the door?" the Sheriff said.
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Three, four, shut the door," Johnny said. "Yes, sir, that's what Mr Feakins said."
I looked at the big clock on the wall of the Sheriff's office. It was almost one o'clock. I was very sleepy but Johnny wasn't. He was too frightened.
"Yes, sir," Johnny said. "Three, four, shut the door."
"What happened then?" the Sheriff said.
"Well," I said, "Mr. Feakins sat down and looked around.
He looked at everything in the room, the piano, the chairs, the floor, the walls, and then he walked to the pictures on the walls. He stopped in front of the picture of a very pretty girl and there was something strange in his behaviour again. He began to talk to himself again."
"Whose picture was it?" the Sheriff said.
"I think it was his wife's picture."
"I don't think you know she died nine years ago," the Sheriff said.
I knew, and I knew what the Sheriff was thinking. I looked at him and then I looked at Johnny. Tad Grover moved around in his chair and said nothing.
"I don't think you know how Grace Feakins died," the Sheriff said.
I knew she had killed herself and I knew why, but Johnny knew nothing and I didn't want to tell him about all those things. It was bad enough already.
I didn't say anything and then Tad Grover said: "All right, Glenn, tell the Sheriff what happened then."
I began to tell the Sheriff what happened then, but I stopped when Johnny jumped up because of the shouts outside and the knocks on the door. The Sheriff took his big revolver and so did Tad Grover.
"God damn1 these hooligans," the Sheriff said. "Tad," he said, "maybe we shall go out now and send them home." "Maybe," Tad said.
"Sit still, boys," the Sheriff said. «Don't move. Nobody in this district will do anything to this Negro boy. While I'm Sheriff here they will do nothing to him."
Sheriff Appley and Tad Grover went out of the office and closed the door behind them. We knew the doors were locked, but we were frightened. I didn't like the noise outside. "What are they going to do to me?" Johnny said. "Nothing," I said. "They aren't going to do anything to you."
He was very tired and frightened, and his lips began to tremble and he was going to cry.
"It's a pity I was born,"* he said.
"It's nothing," I said. "The Sheriff and Tad Grover will drive these hooligans away in two minutes."
1 God damn — áóäü ïðîêëÿòû
We could hear the shouts outside. Sheriff Appley was shouting at the men and the men were shouting back at him.
"I am not a Negro," Johnny said, "and I am not a white
boy."
"You can stay at our house," I said. "You can stay there until you are old enough to go away."
"What do they want to kill me for?" he said. "I have done nothing."
"They are just mad," I said. "The Sheriff will not let them do anything."
"What did Mr. Feakins want to kill himself for?" Johnny said.
"Who told you that?" I said.
"The Sheriff told me," Johnny said. "What did he want to kill himself for?"
"I don't know," I said.
"He was a good man," Johnny said. "He struck me but he was a good man."
I didn't say anything and we listened to the shouts outside. Suddenly the men began to knock at the door harder than ever. Johnny jumped up and looked around.
"What shall I do?" he said.
Then we heard four revolver shots and the shouts became louder, than ever. Then we heard the crash of the door. It seemed like the maddest thing in the world. The men had broken the door down and were running to the hall. When we heard their footsteps we got up, opened the window and jumped down to the lawn and ran. I couldn't see any men around and we ran as fast as we could. The streets were dark and empty and we ran all the way. When we came home my father was sitting in the drawing-room and talking to Sam Brooklyn, our gardener, Johnny's father.
"They broke the door down," I said. "I and Johnny jumped out of the window and ran all the way."
My father went to the telephone and tried to ring up the Sheriff's office. The bell rang about seven times and then somebody answered the telephone. It wasn't Sheriff Appley and it wasn't Tad Grover, So my father didn't say a word, he just hung up. He told Sam to go to the garage and get out the car. Sam ran out of the house and my father took a coat for me, and one for Johnny, and one for himself. We went outside and got into the car. I and Johnny sat near my father
and Sam sat behind us. My father gave him a rifle and two revolvers.
"Keep them ready," my father told him.
Then we drove away and before we knew it we were on the road. We were going north about seventy miles an hour, and nobody was saying anything.
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