Ida

Ida’s gaze shifted back and forth between Lyle and Willy. Her face paled and her eyes widened. “What did you say Willy?” Her voice squeaked out as if she were in pain.

“I just told Lyle that our Ma’s granny was a slave.”

“Why would you tell him something like that!?”

“So, a lot of people have negro blood in them, you are as white as I am.” Lyle said, he looked confused.

“But you don’t understand, blacks aren’t allowed to mix with whites, if we have any ancestors that were slaves we are considered black.”

“But you look white, like your mom was Italian or something.”

“She was, Da said so.” Willy cut in, “I remember him saying so when he told us to run.”

Ida looked at Willy straight in the face, “look at me and listen carefully, we don’t ever tell anyone we have negro blood, or that we were in East St. Louis in the damaged area of town.”

“OK,” Willy nodded, “But Lyle is our friend he isn’t going to run us out or anything.”

Ida looked at Lyle, uncertainty evident on her face. “I won’t say a word, if you don’t want me too, it doesn't matter to me but I guess it matters to some people.” Lyle leaned back in his chair, He was from another time and place he would have to be extra cautious what he said and to whom. “As far as I am concerned you are white, even if you have negro blood you obviously have more white blood so you are more white than black anyway.”

“Yes but we can’t claim both. It's 1922 and the war has been over for years. It shouldn’t matter anymore, but it does. It can be a matter of life and death. Especially across the river in Illinois.”

“Why do you say that? What’s the difference on the other side of the river?”

“Here it isn’t so bad, but there is still the expectation of separateness. Over there it’s bad, it started when a bunch of factory and meat packing workers, mostly white decided to strike for better wages and better working conditions. The owners of the businesses went down south and promised blacks a great future if they would come up here and work. Thousands of them came up, but they didn't get what they were promised. Then May 28, 1917 a couple thousand white men marched into the black sections of East St. Louis and started shooting people. The Illinois National guard was called and things settled down until July 1, 1917.” Ida paused, dropped her head into hands and sighed deeply.

“What happened in July?” Lyle asked hesitantly

When Ida didn’t answer right away, Willy said “There were fires and shooting, and Da got lost and never came back.”

Ida sighed again. “We heard shooting and screaming a couple blocks from us and we gathered up what we could carry and left out the back of the building. We went across an empty lot to some friends place. Our apartment building exploded behind us, then Bill, our dad ran into the building we were hiding in. He yelled at us to run. He picked up Willy and stuffed something into his hands, thrust him in my arms, yelling, ‘you are white, you are white, your mother was italian, RUN,’ he pushed us out of the building away from others, and shoved us toward the bridge, ‘get across the river and stay white’ he said. That was the last I saw him, some white people with soot on their faces waving boards pulled from the burning buildings ran towards us. Da stood between us and them yelling, ‘stop, they are white’. Then he was lost in a mass of white and black people swinging boards, throwing rocks, and shouting and shooting. Willy clung to me too scared to cry, I held on to him with one arm and carried our bag with the other and ran. At that moment I didn’t want to be either black or white, I just wanted to be.”

“The package he gave me had a harmonica and some money in it. He always brought us money and always asked us to leave and live white.” Willy added.

“Everything I had ever known was gone in a few minutes, my aunts, my cousins, my best friends, my coworkers, everyone that I knew well, was gone. I was so terrified I wasn’t sure for a while if we were still alive. It was like we were being sucked through a nightmare, it barely even registered that we couldn’t cross the bridge over to the Missouri side. People were coming back over saying that the police weren’t letting anyone through. We left the road and walked along the edge of the river until we found a fisherman willing to take us across in his boat.” Ida stopped talking and rubbed her hands over her face, and shivered.

“What did you do then? Did you know anyone on this side of the Mississippi?”

“Just Daisy.” Willy got up off the couch and walked to the door then back to the couch, “I Think I remember her from before.”

“You might, Da took us to visit them a several times, Daisy’s Dad was our dad’s brother, they worked on the railroad together. But when Daisy’s mom found out that our granny was the daughter of a slave she didn’t want us around any more.”

“But why did all those white people go out and kill black people? we are all just people.” Willy glanced between Ida and Lyle, His face pinched with distress.

Ida sighed, “I don’t know why, I guess being raised on hatred causes everyone both black and white to act badly.”

“Unfortunately, that is true” Lyle started to say more but stopped himself. They didn’t know he was from the future and as much as Ida was struggling to understand her reality he didn’t think he should burden her with his. “Do you know what set it off that time?”

Ida leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes, she looked much older than her twenty one years. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly then continued “we found out later that on July first a model T ford with four or so white guys drove down the street in a black neighborhood and fired some shots into a group of people walking down the sidewalk. Someone ran to the church and rang the bells to alert the neighborhood watch. About an hour or so later another ford drove through the area, thinking that the shooters were back: the neighbourhood watch fired on them. The second car held police and journalists. One police officer died at the scene and the other died later. They left the car on the street and thousands of people went and looked at it then marched on the black communities, shooting, stoning, beating, killing anyway they could any one they could. If the person was black they were targeted. They filled coke bottles with gasoline stuffed rags in the top then lit the rags on fire and threw them into our homes, businesses, and anything that looked like a black person owned it. It was a bad day to be black, but I didn’t want to be white either and be kin to the mob.”

“Hey just because you are white doesn't mean you have to be hateful.” Lyle stood and walked a few steps to the kitchen area. “Would you like a sandwich or something?” Ida stood and paced back and forth across the small apartment a couple of times before she answered.

“Maybe some tea, let me make it. I need something to do with my hands.”

Lyle nodded then went to the couch and sat by Willy. “Are you alright?”

“I’m Ok, I think. Most of the time I don’t think about that time, I try to forget that I was ever black. I shouldn’t have said anything. Ida is upset and we might get thrown out of our room.”

“Why would you get thrown out of your room, you pay the rent don’t you?” Willy leaned forward on the couch so he could turn and look Lyle in the face.

“We pay the rent fine, but this is a white, Italian neighborhood, if we are black, we have to move.” Lyle nodded letting the information settle into his brain. He opened his mouth to say something then Ida went on.

“They would pay less for their laundry, and you, Willy, would have to change schools.”

“I would lose all my friends.”

“That we would.” Ida said, handing Lyle and Willy cups of tea. “Aunt Bertha said she was not ever going to speak to us again and if we tried to go back we would be shunned.” she sat at the small table and sipped her tea, some of the tension seemed to drain from her face. “I guess I better tell you how we got to be white.” Lyle opened his mouth to say that they had always been as white as they were, but closed it, realizing he didn’t fully understand their feelings and most likely never would. Ida stirred some honey into her tea, sipped it again then resumed her story. “Someone convinced the police of what was really happening and a tent city was set up. I found a Salvation Army tent and went in and sat on a bench, when I started to relax a little out of the shooting and the fires. I felt horrible pains shooting up my legs when I looked at my feet. I had glass shards stuck in them. Willy was still clinging to me saying ‘we are white, we are white’ over and over. I saw Aunt Bertha and waved at her. She came over and hissed at me. “Girl, you white, don’t you ever come back over.’ I tried to argue with her telling her that she and the other aunts were important to me and I wanted to stay with family. She said ‘you aint go no family left theys either dead or leaving. You white now, stay that way.’ then she walked away and didn’t look back. I cried with Willy for a while but by the time someone offered me medical attention I had decided. We are white. Our mother was Italian.