Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!

That Something Else!

San Francisco, California

1942

After he left San Francisco, Theo wandered aimlessly about the country, going from one dark, dirty bar to another, from one couch in some stranger’s place to another. He tried to work at a factory job but in a few days collapsed with what the doctors termed a nervous breakdown and spent a year in a charity ward in a hospital outside of Lansing, Michigan. After he was released, he slowly made his way back to Washington, washing dishes, sweeping floors, anything to get by. Once back, he managed to pull himself together somewhat and made a fair living giving private violin lessons to the children of the wealthy diplomats. He often thought about his sister. The last time he had written her she had been living in New York. He hoped she was safe and happy. He hoped that at least one of them was happy.

For the next four years he lived less than a mile from his father, but as far as real distance, it might as well have been a thousand miles. He wanted to see his father, but he did not want his father to see him. He had shamed his father enough, caused him enough pain, and as much as he missed him, he couldn’t face him. He sometimes bought a copy of the Washington Bee just to see if it had any mention of his father. It was there he learned of his father’s death. The day of the funeral, he stood in the back of St. Augustine Church in a corner and listened to the priest eulogize his father as a great man and a great doctor. No mention was made of his two children. It was as if they had never existed.

Theo left before the service was over, shaking from head to toe with regret, sorrow, anger. He hated himself. How could he have done it? How could he have turned his back on his daddy? If only he could go back. But it was too late. He was completely alone in the world now; all he had left was his sister. But where was she?

Theo didn’t know it but there was someone else who was wondering the same thing. Word had reached Mrs. Chambless that someone who had looked like Theo had been spotted leaving the church, but the sister had not been spotted and it confirmed what she had already begun to suspect. Two days after the funeral she wrote:

SOCIETY SLANTS

1948

I have dipped my spoon into the thick, rich soup of Negro history of our fair city and have pulled out a tasty morsel. It has come to my attention that our reluctant Negro musical genius, Theodore Le Guarde, has a sister, Marguerite, who has all but vanished into thin air. Could it be that she too has chosen to take the same traitorous route leading into white society? As the children at play call: come out, come out, wherever you are. It is a sad fact that there are those of our race who simply do not have the decency to come out in the open of their own accord, and if I am the chosen to spur you to acknowledge you to your duty, if this task must fall on my weary shoulders, so be it.

You will not be allowed to sit at the table of acceptance until all Negroes are seated. And a word to the wise to all you others out there resting your pretty heads upon the soft white pillows of deception … Rest not, for your days are numbered. There is an army of the righteous, dedicated to exposing you and bringing you back alive!

That night Theo Le Guarde walked with Chambless’s column in his pocket to her house in Le Droit park. The house was dark except for a light in a room on the second floor. He went to the front door and knocked. No one answered. He tried the door and it was unlocked; in fact, it swung wide open. Mrs. Chambless rarely locked her doors. She had no fear. What man would dare to rob her? He stepped in and closed the door behind him. He could hear the sound of typing and followed the sound up the stairs to the room where she sat, enormous in a pink housecoat, completely absorbed in her work. He stood in the doorway and looked at her. She did not hear him until he was standing right in front of her. When she saw a man, pale as a ghost, appear, she almost jumped out of her skin. She grabbed at her chest and let out a “Whooo!… Good God Almighty. You nearly scared me to death. What do you mean coming in here and sneaking up on me like that? What’s the matter with you? What do you want coming here this time of night?”

She peered at the gaunt figure before her and was puzzled. “Who are you? Do I know you?”

Now that he was actually face-to-face with the woman, Theo began to shake all over and struggled to get the words out. “Why … why are you doing this … why did you ruin my life?”

Suddenly Mrs. Chambless sensed who he was and sat back in her chair with a smug, mocking smile on her face. “Well, well, well. Look who we have here. If it’s not the great Theodore Le Guarde himself.”

Then her expression changed and her eyes narrowed as she lunged forward and hissed at him with a voice filled with contempt. “Listen … if your life got ruined it was you that ruined it, not me. You and that high-and-mighty family of yours. You think you’re too good for me? Well, Eleanor Roosevelt doesn’t think she is too good for me … now, you get out of here!”

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and turned back to her typing. As an afterthought, she added, “And tell that sister of yours she’s next.”

At that moment something deep inside Theo broke loose and he heard a roaring in his ears so loud that he could not hear Ida Baily Chambless’s screams as he grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. Something was erupting; a terrible, red-hot, boiling rage came rumbling out. He was choking and shaking the very life out of the woman and he could not stop it.

The next thing he remembered he was outside in the cold, wringing wet with sweat. He walked for a mile, not knowing where he was going until he was at the Lincoln Memorial. He looked up at the statue of the man and suddenly heard a woman’s screams in his ears and saw the grotesque face of Mrs. Ida Chambless, her tongue hanging out, her huge eyes bulging, and he retched and threw up in the grass until nothing was left but yellow bile. He looked down at his hands, and he began to sob.

He had to make his way to his father’s house. He had to find his sister; she would hide him. He would be safe with her.

When he reached the house every door and window was locked. The sun was coming up. Desperate, he went to the back and crashed through a basement window and crawled in. He made his way in the dark up to his father’s den. Almost everything was packed in boxes. He went to his father’s desk and broke open the lock. He could feel papers and letters still there. He lit a match and found his own letter to his father, and one more envelope. It was addressed to his father, too. Although the name on the return address was strange, he recognized his sister’s handwriting. The letter was postmarked Elmwood Springs, Missouri.