Mrs. Rich. If I came in the afternoon, yes, the colored man was there. As I say, in all honesty, I could not dare venture a name on that.
Mr. Hubert. But you don’t remember any colored man who was there helping at the bar in the night hours?
Mrs. Rich. You don’t notice them. I mean they are there. If you have been a bartender, you would know what I mean. You don’t notice people like that. They are taken for granted they are there, you have a bar helper. Heck, I don’t remember.
Mr. Hubert. Well, what you are saying is that you do not remember that there was any colored man who assisted with the bar at night.
Mrs. Rich. I will be darned if I can even put a face to whoever did bring the bottles and stuff out to me, the cases.
Mr. Hubert. Your answer to my question, then, is that you do not remember that there was a colored man other than the cleaner that you mentioned.
Mrs. Rich. Well, he did everything. I do remember he lugged beer cases out for me. I think if my memory is right—I think he stacked my cooler for me.
Mr. Hubert. Would he leave before you?
Mrs. Rich. I don’t really remember. As I say, these people you take for granted, you don’t pay any attention to them. I never gave it a second thought. I had one thing on my mind, and it went against my grain. I was doing something I knew to be illegal, and I knew I needed the job. Every night I expected a raid. That was my prime concern.
Mr. Hubert. Would you know a man by the name of Ralph Paul?