“An’ when you adds on dat three hundred dollars dat Mr. Taylor says I owed him from las’ year, dat makes neah’ly sev’n hundred dollars I owes, and it doan look like I’s evah goin’t git out of debt. An’ I thought we wuz goin’ to be able to sen’ Tom and Sally and Mirandy t’ Tuskegee dis year off de ‘leven hundred dollars I thought I wuz gwine t’ make.”
The discouraged air changed to one of greater courage and determination. His voice rose in his resentment and excitement.
“Now I’s tiahed of all dis cheatin’ an’ lyin’! Mr. Taylor mus’ take me for a fool if he thinks I’m gwine stan’ for dis way of doin’ things all de time. I stahted to tell him dat I knew he wuz cheatin’ me in Janua’y w’en he give me dat statemen’, but den I ‘membered whut happen t’ Joe Todd two years ago w’en he tol’ dat ol’ man Stanton dat he wukked for, de same thing. W’en ol’ man stahted thit Joe, Joe hit him fust and run. Dey came one night and call Joe to his do’ and tuk him down in de swamp an’ de nex’ mawnin’ dey foun’ Joe full of bullets, hangin’ to a tree. De paper say Joe done spoke insultin’ to a white ‘oman, but all de cullud folks, an’ de white too, know dat Joe ain’t nevah even seen no white ’oman dat day. Dey knew dat if dey say he ‘sulted a white ’oman, de folks up Nawth won’t crit’cize dem for lynchin’ a nigger down here in Georgy. So I jus’ kep’ my mouth close’. Now we wants t’ know if dey ain’t somethin’ we c’n do t’ make dese white folks we wuks for stop cheatin’ an’ robbin’ us po’ cullud folks.”
He sat down, evidently greatly relieved at finishing a task so arduous. Kenneth had listened in amazement to the story of exploitation, crudely told, yet with a simplicity that was convincing and eloquent. Having lived in the South all his life, he naturally was not unaware of the abuses under the “share-cropping” or “tenant-farming” system in the South, but it had never been brought home to him so forcefully how close at hand and how oppressive and dishonest the system really was. No wonder the South lynched, disfranchised, Jim-Crowed the Negro, he reflected. If the Negro had a yote and a voice in the local government of affairs, most of these bankers and merchants and landowners would have to go to work for the first time in their lives instead of waxing fat on the toil of humble Negroes like Hiram Tucker. He turned to Tucker to get further information on the system.
“Mr. Tucker, have you and the other folks like you ever thought of trying to get loans from the Federal Government through the banks they have established to aid farmers in buying land and raising their crops?”
“Oh, yes, Doc. Soon’s they started lendin’ money to farmers, I ’plied for a loan to buy me a li’l’ place dat I wuz gwine t’ wuk an’ pay for off whut I raised. But dey tol’ me dey didn’ have no funds t’ lento niggers an’ dat dey already done loaned all dey had to de white farmers. W’en I ast dem to put my name down on de lis’ to get a loan when some mo’ money came in, dey tol me dat it wa’n’t no use ‘cause dey already had so many white folks’ names down on de lis’ dat dey nevah would come to de cullud folks.”
“Did you think about writing to Washington and telling them that they were discriminating against Negro farmers?” questioned Kenneth.
“Yas, suh, we done dat too. But dey wrote us back dat de onliest way any loan could be made was th’u’ de local agents, so dat didn’t come to nuthin’.”
“But, good Lord, they can’t discriminate in that way against you without something being done about it!” was Kenneth’s indignant comment.
Tucker looked at him with a wan smile that was almost pitying at the ignorance of the younger man. His voice became paternal.