An autobiography (with names of most people changed) about growing up
in the black ghetto of Harlem in the 1940s and ’50s, about survival in
the streets, with all the vices—drugs, violence, prostitution, gambling.
Infuriation with the dad drove Claude out of Harlem to Greenwich
Village, and probably saved him from the fate that befell the majority
of its youth: jail or untimely death.
Claude
and his generation were the kids of poor Southern sharecroppers, people
used to being treated like servants by most whites. So while they were
content to take low jobs and play subservient roles, these kids were
not. As they watched their parents preaching for them to be good and yet
not laying a reliable example for them to follow, these kids revolted
by doing things their own way, stealing, fighting, using drugs, skipping
school. They spent lots of times in juvenile centers, some even
preferring such places to home, where they were either not wanted or not
cared for. As they grew up, they resented being called “boys” and
“girls” like they saw their old people being called by whites, they
resented working long hours for what looked like meager pay, compared to
the quick cash that came from activities like dealing in drugs or
turning different types of “tricks,” fraudulent means of getting money.
The level of violence that is depicted in this autobiographical makes
it read like fiction to begin with. Claude was able to break out from
this violence due to two reasons. He was smart. He met some nice
influential people at a couple of the correctional facilities where he
spent a lot of his young years. It was these people that made him
realize life could be more than the street thing he was used to in
Harlem, that eventually got him to go back to night school to get his
high school diploma. And the positive change in him began with his
moving out of Harlem, after he could no longer stand his dad in the same
house.
For a long while the tale was about how drugs came to Harlem in the
50’s and took over the youth. How everyone had a drug user or addict in
the family, or knew one. How the youth got wasted and died from their
addiction, either through an OD (overdose) or some robbery in a bid to
feed the habit. Then there were tales of different movements that came
along, trying to solve the problem. The Coptic Christians that preached
black superiority and a religion based in Ethiopia and a black Christ.
Then came the Muslims preaching economic emancipation of blacks. Claude
tried out all these ideas, from going to church to listening to the
Muslims preach, but eventually none gave him the right answers he
needed. When one Muslim convert was telling him about the need for
blacks to revolt, he shot back that he’d already had his own revolution.
That is, all the criminal activities he’d been into in his earlier days
were forms of revolting against the status quo and the injustices in
the system. And so he didn’t see a sense in calling for or being part of
a movement that preached revolution.
There was this account of a love affair between Claude and a white
Jewish girl, after he moved out of Harlem. The girl was all for making
him happy and being a good friend and all, telling him her folks were
not racists and would treat him like any other guy. Claude was reluctant
at first, but then let himself be convinced and so gave the girl his
love and his heart. And then a few months down the line, the girl
suddenly disappeared. It turned out her parents were not as open-minded
as she had thought, and so had sent her away to break up the
relationship. Claude was heartbroken, and in his hurt decided to run
back to Harlem, away from the white people.
By then he discovered Harlem had changed. Drugs no longer had the
strong pull it used to. Even cops now did their jobs better, unlike in
his younger days when they were more interested in protecting whites.
And best of all, he came into contact with a black minister that really
inspired him, one different from the other men of God he used to
despise. It was this Minister that was instrumental in gaining him
admission to college, in addition to also helping his younger brother.
It’s a tale of the shift in expectations and priorities between black
Americans of the old generation and the new, in the Harlem of the 50’s.
The old generation that emigrated from the South remembered the
hardships of segregation down there, and so were more willing to stay in
their expected places, doing lowly paying jobs, afraid to voice
complaints to white landlords or bosses to avoid being thrown out. But
the new generation had none of those southern setbacks. They saw no
reason why they should go to church even when the preachers were crooks,
saw no reason to take insults from whites lying low, and saw more
reason to go to college and aim for higher positions in life.