Read the first
two chapters
Chapter 1
PERCHANCE TO DREAM
Hollywood, California (1915). At first light, Jimmy Johnson woke up with a start. Was it the dream again? For much of his twenty-six years, Jimmy, the grandson of slaves, had been haunted by a recurring dream——a nightmare really. It started shortly after his mother had seemingly abandoned him, his younger brother, and their father. He had been only five at the time. Why would she do that? Why would any mother do that? But did she really abandon them? The dream suggested otherwise. His memory of the events of that terrible night was murky, made less reliable by the reinforcing nature of dreams. What was real? What was imagined? His father, Reed, knew more than he wanted to tell. He only said that she was an unfit mother. If she really abandoned them without explanation, then he was right. But again, the dream and his memory suggested otherwise.
He couldn’t get it out of his craw that maybe her leaving was his fault. He remembered trying hard to please his father. Did this effort drive away his mother? But how could a five-year-old do that? Except now, he had also displeased his father; so much so that his father had for all intents and purposes disowned him. He had no contact with his father or his younger brother, Russell, for the past six years.
While he had mixed feelings about his father, Jimmy did miss his brother. In the fifteen years of growing up together without their mother, they may have formed a stronger bond than if their mother was still around. Hell, Jimmy still owed Russell fifty dollars and wanted to repay him as he had promised. But with Reed and Russell always on the road with their vaudeville act, it was impossible to catch up with them. Jimmy was on the West Coast while they were traveling the vaudeville theaters of the Chitlin’ Circuit. These theaters catered to colored audiences east of the Mississippi River, across the top of the Midwest, down the Eastern seaboard, through the Deep South, and back up the Mississippi. Reed and Russell were ‘Johnson and Son,’ a tap dancing duet.
A more daunting task for Jimmy was his effort to find his mother. If he could find her, he could ask her what had happened that terrible night, not to lay blame, but to get to the truth, and maybe, just maybe, prevent that damned nightmare from invading his brain. To that end, Jimmy had spent a good deal of time trying to track down Miriam Johnson. Over the years, there were so many false leads, so many dead ends. It was as if she had vanished from this earth. Perhaps she had died but he refused to think that. Don’t ask him why but he just knew she was out there, somewhere. He hadn’t yet given up hope.
Thinking about it, maybe the dream was not what had given him such a fitful night. Yesterday, he saw D. W. Griffith’s epic, The Birth of a Nation, at a movie theater downtown. He was one of a handful of coloreds segregated to the balcony, derisively called the buzzard’s roost, or crow’s nest. He heard all the talk but he just had to see this moving picture for himself. What did this white man——this D. W. Griffith——have to say about his family?
In the theater, while Jimmy was gripped by Griffith’s storytelling powers in this new and exciting medium, his blood boiled over the story. Towards the end, when men in hooded sheets rode on horses to rescue beleaguered Southerners, some audience members stood up, cheered, whooped, and hollered. That did it.
Jimmy stood up, too. He pointed to the screen and yelled, “Go to Hell, D. W. Griffith!” It was as much to the cheering audience as to the flickering images. Reactions from the audience below ranged from jeers to support.
“Who’s that?”
“Some nigger upstairs.”
“Go back to Africa!”
“Leave him alone.”
“He’s right, dammit.”
“Shut up!”
Jimmy stormed out. A few other audience members did too, not all of them people of color.
Outside the theater, Jimmy walked past a long line of theater goers waiting for the next show. He barely noticed them as he was deep in thought.
By this morning, it had come to him. With his job fixing cameras in downtown Hollywood, he had come to learn about movie equipment. He always had a knack for fixing things. Even as a kid, he would take things apart and put them back together, like the time when he tried to fix his father’s pocket watch. When he couldn’t get the face cover back on, his father was not happy, in fact, he was furious. And he and Russell learned early on that you don’t want to make Reed unhappy. Reed took the watch to a proper watch repairman. He vowed never again to let Jimmy touch it.
In delivering repaired cameras and film stock to the studios of the burgeoning silent movie industry in Los Angeles, Jimmy managed to steal a few minutes to watch them make moving pictures. It did not seem hard. On that morning, he decided that he too would learn the process, and make pictures that did not do violence to his family. How he hated D. W. Griffith. Within a year, in Hollywood, in the spring of 1916, Jimmy would be finishing his first one-reel photoplay.
Chapter 2
LEAVING HOME
Memphis, Tennessee (1865). On a day in mid-May, Jimmy’s grandfather and namesake, James Johnson, had tears of joy and sadness. Joy as he held his newborn son who his wife, Lethe, had just delivered. They named him Reed. He had such a strong voice, this young’un. But James’ heart ached because he had learned that day that a damned Southerner actor had assassinated his beloved President, Abraham Lincoln, the month before. James and his wife were free from the bonds of their owners because of Mr. Lincoln. With the Civil War just over, they had much hope for the future. Now, with Mr. Lincoln gone, there was much uncertainty, not only for their own lives but for the country. James and Lethe had been owned by the Johnson family on a plantation near Nashville. After emancipation, James and Lethe were offered to work as sharecroppers for Mr. Johnson but they chose instead to find their future in Memphis, a town where they had heard many freed slaves found work.
On the morning of their departure in late October 1864, James and Lethe packed for the 200 miles trek west. After saying “good-bye” to those who chose to stay behind, James and Lethe started their journey. On their way out, they visited their parents’ final resting spot, in the burying-ground of slaves. The morning air was crisp as winter was approaching. They crunched through fallen dried poplar leaves. Four large stones marked the graves. They both wept, knowing they may never come back again. James got on his knees, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. He clasped his hands together in prayer. Standing behind her husband, and fighting tears, Lethe said haltingly, “Mother, Father——and mother, father to James——we leave you now... and bless you.” She rubbed her slightly bulging abdomen, and continued, “But know that your grandchild and their children’s children will not... will not be born as slaves.” With that, they began their eight day journey.
At first, it was hard finding work in Memphis that winter but work did come. James worked at odd jobs while Lethe found work cleaning houses. Just before their first Christmas in Memphis, James saw many people crowding around the newspaper office which posted their front page in the window. People were talking about how the damned Yankees had crushed the Confederate Army of Tennessee in Nashville. The fact that Negro troops helped in the defeat brought a smile to James’ face.
Just before Reed’s first birthday, James and Lethe questioned their move from the plantation. A year after the War had ended the pain of defeat left raw nerves in the South. A race riot exploded in town and encroached on the neighborhood of freed slaves where they lived. On that first night, when white townspeople brought torches, a fearful Lethe grabbed the baby and wrapped him in a quilt she made. She took some food and begged James to come with her. Wanting at first to stay and protect their home, James quickly realized that she was right. He grabbed more food and they both ran out the back door just as a brick shattered their front window.
They found refuge near the Mississippi and stayed hidden for three days until Federal troops came in and stopped the rioting. When they returned, several of their neighbors had been killed or their homes burned or robbed. Their home was not burned but was looted. Lethe looked around their home and cried. What little possessions they had was either gone or destroyed. James hugged her. Just then, baby Reed cooed. James and Lethe looked at their son, then at each other and smiled. They realized what was important and what wasn’t. In the aftermath of those terrible three days, an uneasy peace had come over the city. James and Lethe decided to stay and help with their neighbors to rebuild.
James ended up working at a barber shop and learned how to cut hair. After a few years he and Lethe were able to save enough to open their own barber shop. One of the first things that James bought with the first week’s proceeds was a pocket watch, a watch that he treasured for much of his life.
Every Sunday in church, youngster Reed would sing in the children’s choir and attend Sunday school. Much to the displeasure of his parents, Reed wasn’t much for book learning. Although a slave on the plantation, James was taught to read and to sum by a kindly preacher, a dangerous activity since this was illegal in the South. He and his wife valued education. They tried to pass this value to their young son but the boy had too much nervous energy to sit properly in a schoolhouse. The school teacher explained that Reed would sometimes just leave in the middle of lessons and not return. James and Lethe tried their best to teach Reed at home but they never had proper schooling themselves and they needed to spend many long hours at the barber shop. At the shop, young Reed would help them, sweeping floors and washing towels. James tried to teach him hair cutting but Reed did not have the patience and James had to fix his mistakes on unhappy customers and not charge them.
Reed found that he had a natural talent for dance. Whenever he heard music, he had to move his feet. As his dancing brought accolades and praise from customers in the shop, he was emboldened to do more. James would good-naturedly admonish his customers by saying, “Don’t encourage the boy.” He was only half kidding.
Outside of a vaudeville theater in town, teenager Reed was practicing his steps to music in his head. One tap dance performer on the bill, Edgar Perry, a few years older than Reed, was leaving the theater after a matinee and happened to see him practicing. He immediately recognized the talent of this young man and struck up a conversation.
“Man, that sure is fancy footwork,” Edgar said.
Reed slowed down and stopped. “Thanks, mister. Say, aren’t you Edgar Perry?”
Perry gave a deep bow.
“I seen your name on the bill.”
“How old are you, uh...?”
“Reed, Reed Johnson. Eighteen, come May.”
“Who taught you those steps?” He laughed, “Boz’s Juba?”
Reed had never heard of the black man who dazzled white audiences in the United States and London nearly half a century before with his new style of dance. Even Charles Dickens wrote about him in his American Notes. Reed said, “I teached myself.”
Edgar whistled in amazement. “Listen, kid, ever think of taking those feet on the road? I’m actually looking for a partner. You game?”
Reed’s eyes lit up. He thought, “Imagine, me with Edgar Perry.” Visions of fame, fortune, and getting out of this town filled Reed’s head. He said, “I’ll have to talk to my ma and pa first.”
“Well, Reed Johnson, what are we waiting for?”
Reed’s parents were skeptical at first. Who was this Edgar Perry fellow that wanted to “steal” their boy? Sure, they had heard of him but who was he really? They had hoped that Reed would do the sensible thing and follow in his father’s footsteps, that is, take over the barber shop. In the end they realized that that wasn’t going to happen. Reed did not have the wherewithal to properly run a business like the barber shop, at least, not yet. They slowly came around to realize that just as they had to leave the plantation to find their way in Memphis, Reed would have to leave Memphis to find his way in the world outside of Tennessee. Edgar asked them to give Reed a chance to prove himself. In the end, James and Lethe warily approved.
Over the next two weeks in Memphis, Edgar honed the rough talent of Reed into part of a cohesive two-man act. Reed had a lot to learn but the one lesson from his parents that stuck was not to be afraid of hard work. He didn’t know it but this opportunity was thing he had been waiting for. They gave a preview of their new act at the vaudeville theater in Memphis with James, Lethe, friends, and neighbors attending. They were duly impressed and gave ‘Perry and Johnson and Their Feets of Magic’ a wild ovation. Reed was all smiles. He fed off that adoration like a drunk over whiskey——he yearned for more.
However, Reed had some trepidation as he packed to go on a long journey with Edgar. They would be gone for six months, going to places like Chicago, Detroit, New York, Philadelphia, Washington, D.C., Baltimore, Richmond, and Jacksonville. At the train station, there was much excitement and much sadness as he and his mother and father waited for Edgar. Finally, Edgar arrived with his suitcase. He wore a heavy overcoat and a derby hat.
Reed pointed, and remarked, “Nice hat.”
Edgar took it off and admired it. “We can use it in our act. We’ll get one for you in Chicago.” They turned when they heard a distant train whistle and looked down the tracks. It was the 7:15 for Chicago.
Edgar pointed, and said, “Thar she blows, matey.” He picked up his suitcase.
Lethe’s eyes were starting to well up and she took out a handkerchief. Reed saw this and said, “Ma, it’s going to be all right.”
She smiled, and said, “I know. I know.” The huge iron beast passed them as it slowed up and stopped, releasing a huge plume of steam, the hissing sound of it was as loud as the amount of the enveloping vapor. Conductors opened the doors, stepped out, and helped passengers disembark. Edgar, having done this a hundred times before, ran to get on board. He looked behind at the Johnson family, let out a loud whistle, and then yelled, “Come on, Reed.”
Reed took a deep breath and picked up his suitcase. At the last minute, James took out his pocket watch and gave it to Reed. “Here, son, you take it.”
Reed was stunned, “But, Pa, this is your watch.”
“I want you to have it. You’re a man now.”
Reed’s eyes teared up as he took the watch and pocketed it. He knew this was his father’s most prized possession. “I said I wasn’t going to cry. I’ll take care of it, Pa, I promise.”
“I know you will.” He hugged his son. Reed hugged his mother who kissed him on the cheek. He said to her, “I’ll write.” She smiled, knowing he had all the best intentions. Edgar whistled one more time and Reed picked up his suitcase and got on the train with Edgar. Later, as the train began to move, James watched Lethe walk along side the train waving to her son. She stopped, and she and James went home to a house made emptier. A new reality, it would be the first time in nearly twenty years that they wouldn’t have Reed around.
The train car that Edgar and Reed settled in was vacant and they sat in the back. While Reed looked out the window at the passing scenery, Edgar put his hat over his eyes to get some sleep. With stops along the way, more and more passengers—‑whites and coloreds—‑got on. Generally, both races rode in the second class cars together in the Northern and Western states without incident. For the railroads, even though the barons may have preferred segregation, it was economically infeasible to provide two separate cars for the races, with the extra weight and fuel costs. However, once Edgar and Reed crossed below the Mason-Dixon line, things were much different. The barons had to accede to the politics of the region.
At a stop, two white passengers got on their car with a conductor. The car was otherwise full. Edgar saw what has happening and rolled his eyes. The conductor approached the men, and said, “Time to git.” Edgar took a deep breath, got up and grabbed his derby that he put on with aplomb. He looked at his partner and said, “Come on, Reed.”
Reed looked out the window at the station name, and said, “What for? This ain’t our stop.”
“NOW!”
Not understanding but obeying, Reed followed Edgar and the conductor off the car. The conductor pointed to the front of the train to a car right behind the tender, commonly called the Jim Crow car. It was partitioned into three sections, one for colored, one for whites with baggage between them. They boarded the colored section. It was filled with other black passengers, men and women, as well as cigarette smoke. And, they had to stand. Reed just stared at his second class ticket and shook his head. Edgar explained with anger in his eyes, “It is what it is. I seen guys like us get thrown off the train for putting up a fuss. And the frickin’ train didn’t even slow down!” Reed put away his ticket and sighed.
While enduring these indignities, Reed, still in his teens, was feeling untethered and homesick. However he didn’t let Edgar know or let his discomfort interfere with his work. Slowly, his longing for Memphis faded as he savored each new city, each new experience. He couldn’t have fathomed that places like Chicago or New York even existed. With each new stop, true to his word, he would write a letter or send a postcard. Of course, he couldn’t receive any mail as he was constantly on the move. He struggled with his writing. He now wished he had paid more attention in school as his parents had wanted. On one card, he wrote:
“Hello Ma and Pa. Its a beautyful day now. The train got here in the middle of the nite. It was raney hard. We stade in the station untell the rane stopt. We lade down on the benches. Boy, they were hard. Onley now, we are in a hotel room. Our first show is tonite. Miss you. Your lovin son, Reed.”
Lethe and James were always excited to receive mail from their boy. Since Lethe couldn’t read, James read the postcards and letters to his wife. He pretended it was his fault when he struggled through Reed’s misspellings.
Just as Reed’s parents had feared, Edgar introduced Reed to some of the more unsavory aspects of life, like drink and what they called fallen women. Reed had never once considered visiting the whorehouses in Memphis but Edgar had no qualms about introducing the boy to the pleasures of the flesh.
When Reed and Edgar made it back to the Memphis after that first tour, James and Lethe were overjoyed in seeing their son again. Lethe showed him all the postcards and letters she received. She and his father marveled at all the places he visited that they only heard about. But they saw too how much he had changed, how much he had matured in so little time. They were happy that Edgar did not take outward advantage of him, and had brought their son home in good health. And Reed still had his father’s pocket watch, in good working order.
Over the next few years, Reed’s parents became proud that ‘Perry and Johnson and Their Feets of Magic’ had become well known. At the barber shop James even displayed a playbill from a Harlem vaudeville theater showing his son’s act as top billing. Whenever Reed and Edgar made it back into town, they were quite the conversation piece.
PERCHANCE TO DREAM
Hollywood, California (1915). At first light, Jimmy Johnson woke up with a start. Was it the dream again? For much of his twenty-six years, Jimmy, the grandson of slaves, had been haunted by a recurring dream——a nightmare really. It started shortly after his mother had seemingly abandoned him, his younger brother, and their father. He had been only five at the time. Why would she do that? Why would any mother do that? But did she really abandon them? The dream suggested otherwise. His memory of the events of that terrible night was murky, made less reliable by the reinforcing nature of dreams. What was real? What was imagined? His father, Reed, knew more than he wanted to tell. He only said that she was an unfit mother. If she really abandoned them without explanation, then he was right. But again, the dream and his memory suggested otherwise.
He couldn’t get it out of his craw that maybe her leaving was his fault. He remembered trying hard to please his father. Did this effort drive away his mother? But how could a five-year-old do that? Except now, he had also displeased his father; so much so that his father had for all intents and purposes disowned him. He had no contact with his father or his younger brother, Russell, for the past six years.
While he had mixed feelings about his father, Jimmy did miss his brother. In the fifteen years of growing up together without their mother, they may have formed a stronger bond than if their mother was still around. Hell, Jimmy still owed Russell fifty dollars and wanted to repay him as he had promised. But with Reed and Russell always on the road with their vaudeville act, it was impossible to catch up with them. Jimmy was on the West Coast while they were traveling the vaudeville theaters of the Chitlin’ Circuit. These theaters catered to colored audiences east of the Mississippi River, across the top of the Midwest, down the Eastern seaboard, through the Deep South, and back up the Mississippi. Reed and Russell were ‘Johnson and Son,’ a tap dancing duet.
A more daunting task for Jimmy was his effort to find his mother. If he could find her, he could ask her what had happened that terrible night, not to lay blame, but to get to the truth, and maybe, just maybe, prevent that damned nightmare from invading his brain. To that end, Jimmy had spent a good deal of time trying to track down Miriam Johnson. Over the years, there were so many false leads, so many dead ends. It was as if she had vanished from this earth. Perhaps she had died but he refused to think that. Don’t ask him why but he just knew she was out there, somewhere. He hadn’t yet given up hope.
Thinking about it, maybe the dream was not what had given him such a fitful night. Yesterday, he saw D. W. Griffith’s epic, The Birth of a Nation, at a movie theater downtown. He was one of a handful of coloreds segregated to the balcony, derisively called the buzzard’s roost, or crow’s nest. He heard all the talk but he just had to see this moving picture for himself. What did this white man——this D. W. Griffith——have to say about his family?
In the theater, while Jimmy was gripped by Griffith’s storytelling powers in this new and exciting medium, his blood boiled over the story. Towards the end, when men in hooded sheets rode on horses to rescue beleaguered Southerners, some audience members stood up, cheered, whooped, and hollered. That did it.
Jimmy stood up, too. He pointed to the screen and yelled, “Go to Hell, D. W. Griffith!” It was as much to the cheering audience as to the flickering images. Reactions from the audience below ranged from jeers to support.
“Who’s that?”
“Some nigger upstairs.”
“Go back to Africa!”
“Leave him alone.”
“He’s right, dammit.”
“Shut up!”
Jimmy stormed out. A few other audience members did too, not all of them people of color.
Outside the theater, Jimmy walked past a long line of theater goers waiting for the next show. He barely noticed them as he was deep in thought.
By this morning, it had come to him. With his job fixing cameras in downtown Hollywood, he had come to learn about movie equipment. He always had a knack for fixing things. Even as a kid, he would take things apart and put them back together, like the time when he tried to fix his father’s pocket watch. When he couldn’t get the face cover back on, his father was not happy, in fact, he was furious. And he and Russell learned early on that you don’t want to make Reed unhappy. Reed took the watch to a proper watch repairman. He vowed never again to let Jimmy touch it.
In delivering repaired cameras and film stock to the studios of the burgeoning silent movie industry in Los Angeles, Jimmy managed to steal a few minutes to watch them make moving pictures. It did not seem hard. On that morning, he decided that he too would learn the process, and make pictures that did not do violence to his family. How he hated D. W. Griffith. Within a year, in Hollywood, in the spring of 1916, Jimmy would be finishing his first one-reel photoplay.
Chapter 2
LEAVING HOME
Memphis, Tennessee (1865). On a day in mid-May, Jimmy’s grandfather and namesake, James Johnson, had tears of joy and sadness. Joy as he held his newborn son who his wife, Lethe, had just delivered. They named him Reed. He had such a strong voice, this young’un. But James’ heart ached because he had learned that day that a damned Southerner actor had assassinated his beloved President, Abraham Lincoln, the month before. James and his wife were free from the bonds of their owners because of Mr. Lincoln. With the Civil War just over, they had much hope for the future. Now, with Mr. Lincoln gone, there was much uncertainty, not only for their own lives but for the country. James and Lethe had been owned by the Johnson family on a plantation near Nashville. After emancipation, James and Lethe were offered to work as sharecroppers for Mr. Johnson but they chose instead to find their future in Memphis, a town where they had heard many freed slaves found work.
On the morning of their departure in late October 1864, James and Lethe packed for the 200 miles trek west. After saying “good-bye” to those who chose to stay behind, James and Lethe started their journey. On their way out, they visited their parents’ final resting spot, in the burying-ground of slaves. The morning air was crisp as winter was approaching. They crunched through fallen dried poplar leaves. Four large stones marked the graves. They both wept, knowing they may never come back again. James got on his knees, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. He clasped his hands together in prayer. Standing behind her husband, and fighting tears, Lethe said haltingly, “Mother, Father——and mother, father to James——we leave you now... and bless you.” She rubbed her slightly bulging abdomen, and continued, “But know that your grandchild and their children’s children will not... will not be born as slaves.” With that, they began their eight day journey.
At first, it was hard finding work in Memphis that winter but work did come. James worked at odd jobs while Lethe found work cleaning houses. Just before their first Christmas in Memphis, James saw many people crowding around the newspaper office which posted their front page in the window. People were talking about how the damned Yankees had crushed the Confederate Army of Tennessee in Nashville. The fact that Negro troops helped in the defeat brought a smile to James’ face.
Just before Reed’s first birthday, James and Lethe questioned their move from the plantation. A year after the War had ended the pain of defeat left raw nerves in the South. A race riot exploded in town and encroached on the neighborhood of freed slaves where they lived. On that first night, when white townspeople brought torches, a fearful Lethe grabbed the baby and wrapped him in a quilt she made. She took some food and begged James to come with her. Wanting at first to stay and protect their home, James quickly realized that she was right. He grabbed more food and they both ran out the back door just as a brick shattered their front window.
They found refuge near the Mississippi and stayed hidden for three days until Federal troops came in and stopped the rioting. When they returned, several of their neighbors had been killed or their homes burned or robbed. Their home was not burned but was looted. Lethe looked around their home and cried. What little possessions they had was either gone or destroyed. James hugged her. Just then, baby Reed cooed. James and Lethe looked at their son, then at each other and smiled. They realized what was important and what wasn’t. In the aftermath of those terrible three days, an uneasy peace had come over the city. James and Lethe decided to stay and help with their neighbors to rebuild.
James ended up working at a barber shop and learned how to cut hair. After a few years he and Lethe were able to save enough to open their own barber shop. One of the first things that James bought with the first week’s proceeds was a pocket watch, a watch that he treasured for much of his life.
Every Sunday in church, youngster Reed would sing in the children’s choir and attend Sunday school. Much to the displeasure of his parents, Reed wasn’t much for book learning. Although a slave on the plantation, James was taught to read and to sum by a kindly preacher, a dangerous activity since this was illegal in the South. He and his wife valued education. They tried to pass this value to their young son but the boy had too much nervous energy to sit properly in a schoolhouse. The school teacher explained that Reed would sometimes just leave in the middle of lessons and not return. James and Lethe tried their best to teach Reed at home but they never had proper schooling themselves and they needed to spend many long hours at the barber shop. At the shop, young Reed would help them, sweeping floors and washing towels. James tried to teach him hair cutting but Reed did not have the patience and James had to fix his mistakes on unhappy customers and not charge them.
Reed found that he had a natural talent for dance. Whenever he heard music, he had to move his feet. As his dancing brought accolades and praise from customers in the shop, he was emboldened to do more. James would good-naturedly admonish his customers by saying, “Don’t encourage the boy.” He was only half kidding.
Outside of a vaudeville theater in town, teenager Reed was practicing his steps to music in his head. One tap dance performer on the bill, Edgar Perry, a few years older than Reed, was leaving the theater after a matinee and happened to see him practicing. He immediately recognized the talent of this young man and struck up a conversation.
“Man, that sure is fancy footwork,” Edgar said.
Reed slowed down and stopped. “Thanks, mister. Say, aren’t you Edgar Perry?”
Perry gave a deep bow.
“I seen your name on the bill.”
“How old are you, uh...?”
“Reed, Reed Johnson. Eighteen, come May.”
“Who taught you those steps?” He laughed, “Boz’s Juba?”
Reed had never heard of the black man who dazzled white audiences in the United States and London nearly half a century before with his new style of dance. Even Charles Dickens wrote about him in his American Notes. Reed said, “I teached myself.”
Edgar whistled in amazement. “Listen, kid, ever think of taking those feet on the road? I’m actually looking for a partner. You game?”
Reed’s eyes lit up. He thought, “Imagine, me with Edgar Perry.” Visions of fame, fortune, and getting out of this town filled Reed’s head. He said, “I’ll have to talk to my ma and pa first.”
“Well, Reed Johnson, what are we waiting for?”
Reed’s parents were skeptical at first. Who was this Edgar Perry fellow that wanted to “steal” their boy? Sure, they had heard of him but who was he really? They had hoped that Reed would do the sensible thing and follow in his father’s footsteps, that is, take over the barber shop. In the end they realized that that wasn’t going to happen. Reed did not have the wherewithal to properly run a business like the barber shop, at least, not yet. They slowly came around to realize that just as they had to leave the plantation to find their way in Memphis, Reed would have to leave Memphis to find his way in the world outside of Tennessee. Edgar asked them to give Reed a chance to prove himself. In the end, James and Lethe warily approved.
Over the next two weeks in Memphis, Edgar honed the rough talent of Reed into part of a cohesive two-man act. Reed had a lot to learn but the one lesson from his parents that stuck was not to be afraid of hard work. He didn’t know it but this opportunity was thing he had been waiting for. They gave a preview of their new act at the vaudeville theater in Memphis with James, Lethe, friends, and neighbors attending. They were duly impressed and gave ‘Perry and Johnson and Their Feets of Magic’ a wild ovation. Reed was all smiles. He fed off that adoration like a drunk over whiskey——he yearned for more.
However, Reed had some trepidation as he packed to go on a long journey with Edgar. They would be gone for six months, going to places like Chicago, Detroit, New York, Philadelphia, Washington, D.C., Baltimore, Richmond, and Jacksonville. At the train station, there was much excitement and much sadness as he and his mother and father waited for Edgar. Finally, Edgar arrived with his suitcase. He wore a heavy overcoat and a derby hat.
Reed pointed, and remarked, “Nice hat.”
Edgar took it off and admired it. “We can use it in our act. We’ll get one for you in Chicago.” They turned when they heard a distant train whistle and looked down the tracks. It was the 7:15 for Chicago.
Edgar pointed, and said, “Thar she blows, matey.” He picked up his suitcase.
Lethe’s eyes were starting to well up and she took out a handkerchief. Reed saw this and said, “Ma, it’s going to be all right.”
She smiled, and said, “I know. I know.” The huge iron beast passed them as it slowed up and stopped, releasing a huge plume of steam, the hissing sound of it was as loud as the amount of the enveloping vapor. Conductors opened the doors, stepped out, and helped passengers disembark. Edgar, having done this a hundred times before, ran to get on board. He looked behind at the Johnson family, let out a loud whistle, and then yelled, “Come on, Reed.”
Reed took a deep breath and picked up his suitcase. At the last minute, James took out his pocket watch and gave it to Reed. “Here, son, you take it.”
Reed was stunned, “But, Pa, this is your watch.”
“I want you to have it. You’re a man now.”
Reed’s eyes teared up as he took the watch and pocketed it. He knew this was his father’s most prized possession. “I said I wasn’t going to cry. I’ll take care of it, Pa, I promise.”
“I know you will.” He hugged his son. Reed hugged his mother who kissed him on the cheek. He said to her, “I’ll write.” She smiled, knowing he had all the best intentions. Edgar whistled one more time and Reed picked up his suitcase and got on the train with Edgar. Later, as the train began to move, James watched Lethe walk along side the train waving to her son. She stopped, and she and James went home to a house made emptier. A new reality, it would be the first time in nearly twenty years that they wouldn’t have Reed around.
The train car that Edgar and Reed settled in was vacant and they sat in the back. While Reed looked out the window at the passing scenery, Edgar put his hat over his eyes to get some sleep. With stops along the way, more and more passengers—‑whites and coloreds—‑got on. Generally, both races rode in the second class cars together in the Northern and Western states without incident. For the railroads, even though the barons may have preferred segregation, it was economically infeasible to provide two separate cars for the races, with the extra weight and fuel costs. However, once Edgar and Reed crossed below the Mason-Dixon line, things were much different. The barons had to accede to the politics of the region.
At a stop, two white passengers got on their car with a conductor. The car was otherwise full. Edgar saw what has happening and rolled his eyes. The conductor approached the men, and said, “Time to git.” Edgar took a deep breath, got up and grabbed his derby that he put on with aplomb. He looked at his partner and said, “Come on, Reed.”
Reed looked out the window at the station name, and said, “What for? This ain’t our stop.”
“NOW!”
Not understanding but obeying, Reed followed Edgar and the conductor off the car. The conductor pointed to the front of the train to a car right behind the tender, commonly called the Jim Crow car. It was partitioned into three sections, one for colored, one for whites with baggage between them. They boarded the colored section. It was filled with other black passengers, men and women, as well as cigarette smoke. And, they had to stand. Reed just stared at his second class ticket and shook his head. Edgar explained with anger in his eyes, “It is what it is. I seen guys like us get thrown off the train for putting up a fuss. And the frickin’ train didn’t even slow down!” Reed put away his ticket and sighed.
While enduring these indignities, Reed, still in his teens, was feeling untethered and homesick. However he didn’t let Edgar know or let his discomfort interfere with his work. Slowly, his longing for Memphis faded as he savored each new city, each new experience. He couldn’t have fathomed that places like Chicago or New York even existed. With each new stop, true to his word, he would write a letter or send a postcard. Of course, he couldn’t receive any mail as he was constantly on the move. He struggled with his writing. He now wished he had paid more attention in school as his parents had wanted. On one card, he wrote:
“Hello Ma and Pa. Its a beautyful day now. The train got here in the middle of the nite. It was raney hard. We stade in the station untell the rane stopt. We lade down on the benches. Boy, they were hard. Onley now, we are in a hotel room. Our first show is tonite. Miss you. Your lovin son, Reed.”
Lethe and James were always excited to receive mail from their boy. Since Lethe couldn’t read, James read the postcards and letters to his wife. He pretended it was his fault when he struggled through Reed’s misspellings.
Just as Reed’s parents had feared, Edgar introduced Reed to some of the more unsavory aspects of life, like drink and what they called fallen women. Reed had never once considered visiting the whorehouses in Memphis but Edgar had no qualms about introducing the boy to the pleasures of the flesh.
When Reed and Edgar made it back to the Memphis after that first tour, James and Lethe were overjoyed in seeing their son again. Lethe showed him all the postcards and letters she received. She and his father marveled at all the places he visited that they only heard about. But they saw too how much he had changed, how much he had matured in so little time. They were happy that Edgar did not take outward advantage of him, and had brought their son home in good health. And Reed still had his father’s pocket watch, in good working order.
Over the next few years, Reed’s parents became proud that ‘Perry and Johnson and Their Feets of Magic’ had become well known. At the barber shop James even displayed a playbill from a Harlem vaudeville theater showing his son’s act as top billing. Whenever Reed and Edgar made it back into town, they were quite the conversation piece.
