THE LITTLE OLD BLACK MEN OF THE QUARTERS
THE LITTLE OLD BLACK MEN OF THE QUARTERS
By
Millard Lowe
Like clock work, Sugar Man rang the door bell at exactly 8 AM. TiBow reluctantly pulled himself out of the bed and struggled to the door.
“Come on in dude, you know where the coffee pot is,” he said to Sugar Man. Sugar Man stepped inside and took a surveying look at TiBow. “Boy, look at yu. Yu look like sheep shit on a rocky mountain. What yu do last night? You needs to go back to bed and try wake up with a new face. Like Suge Avary would say, ‘Yu sho is ugly’…”
“Ah, shut up, man. Goin tha kitchen and turn on the coffee pot,” TiBow replied. “Me’n Pluck went down by The Dew Drop Inn last night. And boy, did we put one on. Catlac had just come back from his uncle’s funeral down there in Petersburg, and brung back some of that ‘Virginna Spring Water’ with’m. We musta got drunker than Coouda Brown…Um tell’n yu.”
“Goin git ready,” Sugar Man said. “We needs to git on down to tha Coffee Shop and see what tha guys be taking ‘bout.
When they got to the Coffee Shop, just about everybody else was already there: T-Bone, Rabbit, Tank, Ice Man and Hockrow; only Pluck was missing. They had already started on breakfast. Grits, eggs, beacon, flat jacks, biscuits, pan sausages and pork chops; and of course, Hank had that big round piece of Vegas ham with that little bone in the middle.
“Moun’n gents,” Sugar Man said, greeting everyone.
“How y’all doin,” chimed in TiBow. “Pluck not here yet?”
“Aint seen’m since I had to tote’m up stairs to his room last night,” Tank said, as he cut up his ham into big mouth size chunks. “Boy…he wuz high as a kite.
“Yeah, I know,” said TiBow.
“Oh, he’ll probably be here directly,” Hockrow said.
“Hey! Fannie Mae, you goin’ah tak these men’s orders?,” T-Bone screamed out to the waitress.
“Oh, shut yo mouth Negro,” Fannie Mae screamed back. “I already got it cooking. They eat tha same old stuff every day. I always know what dey wants. And if’n they wuz to order something else, I swear, I’d know dey be sick. Hell, I’ve knowed dem all my life.” She then pushed open the swing door and went into the kitchen.
This group of old men was known as the Elders of the Quarters. They were all retired and well up in age. Rabbit was the youngest of the bunch; and he was said to be in his late 70s. Hockrow, the oldest, was said to be somewhere between 94 and 97. No one was really sure. Although a couple of them still had living spouses, they still met for breakfast at the Coffee Shop every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. And this has been every since the Coffee Shop opened twenty years ago. Before the Coffee Shop, they always met at the Hall. Today was Thursday.
After about an hour and a half, Pluck strolled into the Coffee Shop. He must have bathed in the Bruit cologne, because you could smell it as soon as the door was pushed opened.
“Alright, alright, alright…tha Pluck is in tha house,” he said. “Oh, I see y’all done already started without me,” he continued. “That’s cool…That’s cool.”
Hockrow said, “Man, a few more minutes and we’d be ordering lunch. Sit your old butt down.”
While Pluck pulled back his chair to sit down, Rabbit started singing, “Things…I use tha do…Lawd…I can’t do, no moe…” Everyone seated at the table burst into laughter: “HaHaHaHaHa…! Sing it boy!”
“Ok Brethren, now that Pluck’s here, we can git down to business,” Hockrow said. “Now we’s gots to do what we’s gots to do to git the Quarters back to tha ways it used to be. Not lak now, with these yung’n walking ‘round with dey pants lak they trying to git tha wind to blow the funk off they butts.”
“Sho yu right,” said T-Bone. We’s gots to stop dem new style slavers from com’n down here and slaving our yung’ns with that white shit…keeping dem outta school and fight‘n each other instead of fignt‘n who theys ought’a be fight‘n.”
“Yeah, we’s gots to take tha Village back,” TiBow said. “I check ever thing out with Catlac yes‘ditty. That Virginna Spring Water what’n tha only thing he brung back with’m.”
“It jus don’t mek no sense,” Pluck said, “To have Dr. Kang to done give up his life fer nut’n. We owe it to’m to do whut should‘a done been done long time ‘go.”
“I heard that,” Rabbit said. “Its lak tha good doctha done always said, if’n yu ain’t found nut’n worth to die fer, yu ain’t gots nut’n worth living fer.”
Alright right y’all, we meet down by the Hall at 10:30 tomorrow night,” Hockrow said. “Tha grape vine says theys goin be com’n down to the Quarters ‘bout leben. We needs to mek sho we’s ready. Dis goin be tha last time dem goin bring that white dope down here,” he concluded.
If you were to ask the young Black children of today what they knew about the Quarters, they would probably start talking about the shiny new 25 cents coins representing the 50 US states; or they would tell you about the time they had in the French Quarters of New Orleans, during Mardi Gras; it’s doubtful that they would be able to relate the term to what was once call the slave quarters.
Following Emancipation, during the Era of Segregation in America, the term Quarters became popular to designating the geographical residential section of a small city where the majority of Black people lived. You know, like the Reservation was the term for where the majority of Native Americans lived. And then, there were The Bottoms.
It must be made abundantly clear that The Slave Quarters and what became popularly known as the Quarters, were as different as night is from day. Rather than being a squalor living area, The Quarters was an exotic, thriving, self sustaining, self owned Black community. A segregated community it was; but one that was totally integrated within its self. What young Blacks today refer to as the Hood, is a far cry from the standards of the Quarters, with its sense of dignity, love and respect for each other. In The Quarters, Black folks looked out for each other. In The Quarters, old Black men were revered and respected, rather than feared and disrespected; for they were the guardians of the extended families of The Quarters.
Saturday morning, all of the Elders of the Quarters arrived at the Coffee Shop around the same time. They stood outside chatting a few minutes before going inside. They talked about the weather, the state of the nation, various things going on around the world and about different widows in the Quarters who were in need of help with different types of home repairs. They all agreed that next week, they would lend their attention to the needs of widows. They then went inside to have breakfast.
Inside, Fannie Mae had already set up their booth and table. She informed them that their regular orders would soon be ready. After all the old men had taken their seats, Sugar Man asked if anyone had watched or listened to the early morning news. Catlac was the first to reply.
“When I turnth on the TV dis morning, they were reporting some’m about a car missing tha curve over there on River Road last night. Say tha car run rat through the rail’n…lucky fer the driver…tha damn thang com’ta land rat in the in tha shallow water of tha river bank. Funny thang tho, dey don’t find no driver and no passenger in the car. But they did find 2 keys of dat coke-cane in tha car…and that tha car done come from outta state.”
“Now ain’t that a witch,” uttered TiBow.
“Well, let me tell y’all whut I hear dis moun’n,” said Pluck. I wuz listen’n to tha radio this moun’n and here dem say that there wuz a big comoshen over in front tha Precinct on fifth street last night; and when tha PoPo come out, dey finds two White boys tied up with notes in dem mouths and bags of hairon in dey pockets. Say tha note in one of dem’s mouth says, ‘Stay Out’, and tha note inna tha other mouth simple said, ‘The Quarters’.”
“My…My,” said Hockrow, as he stood up with his glass of water in his hand. “Tha Lawd sho nuff wurks in mysterious ways; don’t He?”
“Sho, yu right,” Tank answered.
“A toast, gentlemens,” Hockrow said.
They all stood up and raised their glasses of water.
Fannie Mae screamed over to table where the old men were.
“Y’all old mens ready to eat now?”
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