CHAPTER FIVE GOVERNOR MILLARD FILLMORE CALDWELL
CHAPTER
FIVE
Governor Millard Fillmore Caldwell
Cora wore make-up to hide the bruising and took to wearing big sunglasses, like some Hollywood movie star, whenever she had to venture away from Lee’s.
And after having her picture printed in no less than eight Florida newspapers, she’d become jumpy around strangers, especially when she thought their eyes lingered too long.
The one good thing that came of all the newspaper attention was that Uncle Drew got Governor Caldwell to agree to meet with her and her husband.
She brought Lee instead. After all, he was just as much a veteran as Roscoe.
Besides, bringing Roscoe was out of the question. They hadn’t spoken since he’d hit her.
Uncle Drew drove them the four hours to the governor’s office in Tallahassee in his wide gray Buick, but even with the windows down, Cora’s backside beaded with sweat.
At Governor Caldwell’s office the freckled receptionist showed them past the spacious waiting area to a windowless closet-room across the hall.
The still air smelled of old rags and bleach, and Cora’s once starched dress moistened and sagged in the heat as time dragged on.
An hour and a half after their appointment time, they were shown to the governor’s office, where only one visitor chair had been positioned in front of the wide, mahogany desk.
The governor motioned to it, and Lee and Uncle Drew stood back to let Cora sit while they stood.
Instead, she stretched her hand across the desk for Governor Caldwell to shake.
His startled expression smoothed into something that looked more like a frog grimace than a smile as he clasped and shook it.
‘Well, if it isn’t the famous Cora we’ve all been reading about in the papers.’ He wiped his palm on his shirt. An unconscious gesture he seemed unaware of.
‘And who do we have here? You got two husbands, gal?’
Uncle Drew stepped forward, extending his hand. ‘I’m not the husband. Just an advisor and a friend.’ Caldwell looked at the proffered hand a second too long before shaking it.
Next, Lee reached over, saying, ‘Good afternoon,’ and left his introduction at that. Caldwell could assume what he liked.
‘So, who’d you serve with, boy?’
Lee froze mid-handshake and withdrew his hand. ‘The 761st tank battalion. The Black Panthers. Some of the bravest men in the army.’
The governor’s mouth twitched in a smirk. ‘Everybody’s brave now that the fighting’s over.’ His chair creaked as he leaned back in it. ‘And I don’t guess you saw much action. I heard all you boys did was beef out our supply lines.’
‘Actually, I fought under General Patton.’
Caldwell snorted out a laugh. ‘Sure you did.’
‘Governor Caldwell,’ Cora said, gesturing to the sofa and two cozy chairs across the room, trying to distract from the hostile scowl that was hardening across Lee’s face, ‘what a nice office you have here.’
She walked to the sofa feeling their eyes on her, and, in a flash of inspiration, she sat down, smiling at the three men who stared open-mouthed.
She settled into the cushions and crossed her legs, her defiance gentle as a lamb.
‘Thank you for seeing us, Governor. I know you must be busy with it being an election year.’ It took everything in her not to draw out those last two words.
Lee coughed over his chuckle as he crossed the room and sat by her side, pride and love streaming from his eyes.
Uncle Drew frowned at them, silently chastising them for antagonizing a man they wanted to take up their cause.
Lee stared right back with a piercing glare in a challenge so clear that Cora could read the unspoken words in the lift of his brow and the set of his jaw.
Don’t soft shoe, jive and Sambo yourself for this man, his look said.
Don’t trade your dignity for a handful of beads.
Uncle Drew straightened his back and crossed the room to the chair beside the sofa.
‘Yes,’ he said as he sat. ‘We’re glad you could find the time after all.’
Governor Caldwell looked at the three of them sitting across the room and colored red, but only a little. He stood up and joined them, rigid smile in place with ice gathering behind his eyes. ‘I always meet with my constituents when I can afford the time. Now what brings you to my office?’
With a lawyer’s precision, Uncle Drew explained how the GI bill had failed Negro veterans, and their wish that he, as their elected representative, take up their case.
Governor Caldwell listened quietly, his head tilted in a posture of attention and concentration. When Uncle Drew finished, Caldwell steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. For a moment, Cora dared to hope.
‘I have heard your comments, and I must say I find it doubtful that you are indeed being treated unfairly. This GI bill is a landmark piece of legislation, addressing the specific needs of every US veteran. You may have come across some bad luck in your applications, but you can’t blame the whole system for that.
And I, for one, am truly tired of you people hooting and hollering that folks are out to get you every time you don’t get your own way. ’
‘But that’s not—’ Cora said.
He held up his hand and plowed on, speaking over her. ‘The fact that I’m sitting here listening to all this horse manure proves that you’re getting a fair shake. We can’t be giving you special treatment.’
‘Fair treatment is not special treatment,’ Lee said. ‘And we’re after a lot more than just sitting here talking to you.’
Caldwell leaned forward and pointed at Lee. ‘That’s the problem we have with your kind. We give you a little finger and you want the whole hand.’ He shook his head. ‘Why can’t you be grateful for what you’ve got?’
Uncle Drew stood. ‘You’ve made your position clear, Governor, so we’ll be going.
We have to get to another newspaper interview this evening.
I believe it’s with the Washington Post this time.
We scheduled it for after this meeting hoping to have something positive to report.
’ He brushed imaginary lint from his sleeves. ‘Pity.’
The governor reddened, his face drawing to a scowl that he quickly smoothed flat.
He cleared his throat. ‘Look, lay off the interviews for a while, and I’ll broach this whole thing with some of my colleagues.
Kick it around the state congress. See if anything can be done.
’ He spread his lips into his frog-grimace smile.
‘How generous,’ Uncle Drew said. ‘In that case, we’ll hold off on this one interview for now and see how your conversations go. We’ll be in touch.’
Their shoes echoed on the marble as they made their way down the hall and through the double doors of the entrance.
‘Well, I guess you’d better call and cancel that interview,’ Cora said, with a smirk.
Uncle Drew groaned. ‘It was the best I could come up with. I had to say something to that pompous cockroach.’
‘I don’t know why I expected anything different.
’ Lee drew his arm around Cora’s shoulders and pulled her close.
The stiffness of his body mirrored the stony set of his face, and she threaded her arm around his waist, fearing for all that hardness in him, wishing she could shield him with her softness.
Without something to cushion life’s blows, a man could shatter.
‘What do we do now?’ she asked.
‘Now, we write letters,’ said Uncle Drew.
‘Lots and lots of letters. To congressmen and senators. To the attorney general. Even to the president. We’ll write to every single person who can influence national legislation because, frankly, I don’t think the good ole boys of the state senate will see things any differently than Caldwell.
We need to make Washington see what American democracy looks like for the American Negro. ’