Chapter Sixteen #2
“Must’ve been in sixty-four, maybe sixty-five, when we really ramped up the petition drives,” Lou recalls.
“Gathering names right here on the Square sometimes, down State Street. We held marches too, sit-ins at rental offices. We faced a lot of pushback, folks telling us to slow down, that Madison didn’t have those problems.”
He gives a small, wry smile. “But you learn how to make your voice heard. You learn that enough names on paper can make people pay attention, especially when you believe in the cause.” He nods at me.
Lou?
Our gentle, unassuming Lou, involved in the Civil Rights movement? Organizing marches? Demanding equality back when the resistance was the most fierce?
The image is staggering, completely reframing the man sitting across from me. I stare at him with new eyes.
“Damn, Lou!” Helen reaches over and taps the back of her hand against his shoulder. “You’ve been holding out on us.”
“You get to live as long as I have, your stories become too many to share in one sitting,” he replies with a modest smile.
As Lou speaks, it clicks.
Matthew knew.
Maybe not the specifics about marches and ordinances, but he knew Lou was more than just a kind listening post. He must have sensed this depth, this quiet strength.
He knew exactly who to send me to.
My heart swells with gratitude for Matthew’s perception. He led me right here, to the exact person I needed.
“So you can help me then?” I ask, hope expanding in my chest.
“It would be an honor, my dear.”
His words melt the last of my doubt. A grateful smile pulls at my lips, my vision blurring.
“Ay Dios, Ames,” Helen interjects, bringing her clasped hands to her chest. “I had a feeling that sexy lawyer of yours had a heart.”
Before I can respond, Lou leans forward, catching Helen’s eye with a look that’s both amused and admonishing. “Now, now, Helen,” he says calmly. “Let’s stay focused. First things first. Amy needs our help with this petition.” He shifts his gaze briefly to me, offering a quick, conspiratorial wink.
“Right. Sure.” Helen straightens in her seat, all business now. “Let’s deal with the fire first. Well, not that kind of fire—”
“Helen,” Lou and I warn in unison.
“Alright, alright.” Helen leans back, palms up. “?Cálmate!”
“Okay,” I begin, the morning’s panic replaced by determination. I look between my two staunchest allies. “Here’s what’s happening…”
I lay out the situation concisely, detailing the non-renewal notice and the underlying threat of eviction.
I recount my conversation with Matthew, relaying his confirmation that the motive is purely financial.
Bancroft wants the space empty for a tenant willing to pay triple.
I explain Matthew’s reasoning for the petition: leveraging community support, buying time, and creating the kind of public headache a man like Bancroft wants to avoid.
Lou listens intently, his brow furrowed in concentration, nodding slowly. Helen leans forward, her earlier teasing gone, replaced by a sharp focus. Her lips purse when I mention Bancroft’s true motive.
When I finish, silence fills the small office.
“So,” Helen begins. “Matthew believes we can fight City Hall, or a shitty landlord, with this piece of paper?” Despite her sharp tone, there’s a glint of determination in her eyes.
“A strong petition is much more powerful than you think,” Lou answers, his conviction contagious.
“You’re the pro here, Lou,” I say, emboldened by his unshakeable belief. “Where do we start?”
Lou leans forward, elbows on knees, looking between Helen and me.
“Alright, first things first,” he begins, his voice calm and assured.
“We need our statement. The words at the top of every signature page. This is the most important part. It needs to be clear, heartfelt, and concise. It has to tell people instantly why Maddy’s Place matters.
Its history, what it means to the regulars, to the neighborhood.
A community space, not just a business.”
He meets my eyes pointedly. “And it needs to state the threat clearly. That we risk losing it. But,” he adds, catching Helen’s eye, “we keep it focused there. Simple, powerful, about community. Not a word about Bancroft’s greed.”
“Okay,” I nod, absorbing the information, picturing the words. “Statement first.”
“Then, the pages themselves.” Lou gestures with his hands.
“Clean paper, the statement printed clearly at the top. Underneath, simple columns: Signature, Printed Name, and Address. Street, city, zip. I can’t tell you how important those addresses are.
We need to show these are real Madison residents, people from this community whose voices matter. ”
“Got it,” Helen confirms, already mentally designing the page. “How many copies?”
“The more, the better.” Lou smiles faintly.
“And we start collecting right here.” He gestures around the office.
“Keep a clipboard by the till for anyone who comes in.” He pauses, tapping his chest lightly.
“But leave the first wave to me. I’ll build that initial momentum, get those first crucial names.
I know the regulars, the neighbors who’ve been coming here since Mary’s time.
I can take a few sheets first thing tomorrow, talk to folks I know will want to help immediately.
We need to show strength right out of the gate. ”
Lou’s decisive plan galvanizes us.
“Count me in,” Helen declares. “My apartment building… you know, the big one over on Wilson? It’s full of folks who love this place. Give me a few sheets, and I’ll knock on doors tomorrow evening. Bet I can fill ’em fast.”
Lou smiles at her, nodding. “Excellent, Helen. Neighbors’ voices carry weight.”
Seeing them both so ready, so willing to fight for Maddy’s Place, chases away the last of my doubt. Exhaustion vanishes, replaced by a surge of adrenaline and fierce gratitude.
“Okay.” I meet their gazes, my voice firm.
“That’s the plan. I’ll draft the statement tonight, based on everything you said, Lou.
I’ll get the signature sheets formatted and printed.
” I take a deep breath. “You’ll both have stacks ready to go first thing tomorrow morning, even if I have to stay up all night. ”
Lou and Helen exchange a look, then nod. A silent pact sealed in this small office.
The fight has begun.