I was followed by many hundreds. In fact, the entire Russell delegation bolted, some going through the windows and others down the tramway.
The Dockery men remained and passed a few resolutions, but there was no more fighting.
Late that afternoon, when the westbound delegates were waiting at the station to take the train, some one discovered that Uncle Hampton, a very ancient colored delegate from Monroe, was missing. I heard the talking and inquired as to his appearance.
“Why,” said I, “that is the old fellow that went in the anteroom when the fight began.”
A party of us visited the hall and knocked on the locked door, but did not get a response. Finally we broke in and there sat old man Hampton, jouked down in the corner, afraid to move.
Claude Dockery, who sat on the roof and saw me make the famous leap, went to Raleigh and told Tom Pence, the city editor of The Times-Visitor, that “Red Buck had bolted the convention.” I was the butt of papers and politicians for weeks. The Old Man said, in an editorial, that “Red Buck” would have to explain why he bolted and he did as best he could. Mr. Caldwell had dubbed me “Brick Top,” “Strawberry Blond,” and “Red Buck,” and the last name stuck because of the Maxton convention and Claude Dockery’s interview.
UNTIL DEATH DO US PART
The man who earns by the sweat of his brow or the cunning of his mind a comfortable living for those dependent upon him should not complain but consider the mean lot of others, less fortunate, and rejoice at his good fate. There is not a day of my life that I do not see some wretch faring worse than I; some poor person struggling desperately to keep body and soul together.