THE SPOOK WHO SAT BY THE DOOR African American Life Series For an updated listing of books in this series, please visit our W eb site at http://wsupress.wayne.edu THE SPOOK WHO SAT BY THE DOOR a novel by Sam Greenlee \ m ISSS WAYNE STATE UNIVERSITY PRESS Detroit Copyright © Sam Greenlee 1969. Originally published in 1969 by Richard Baron Books. Published in 1990 by Wayne State University Press, Detroit, Michigan 48201. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without formal permission. 03 9 8 Library o? Congress Catalog Card Number: 89-040227 ISBN 0-8143-2246-8 (pbk.) To my wife Nicky 1 Today the computers would tell Senator Gilbert Hennington about his impending campaign for re­ election. The senator knew from experience that the computers did not lie. He sat separated from his assembled staff by his massive, uncluttered desk, the Washington Monu­ ment framed by the window to his rear. They sat alert, competent, loyal and intelligent, with charts, graphs, clipboards and reports at the ready. The senator swept the group with a steely gaze, gave Belinda, his wife and chief aide, a bright smile of confidence, and said: “All right, team, let's have a rundown, and don't try to sweeten the poison. We all know this will be the closest one yet: what I want to know is how close ? Tom, kick it off.” “The campaign war chest is in excellent shape, chief: no major defectors/' “Good. I'll look over your detailed breakdown later. Dick?" “I spent a week on Mad. Av. with both the PR 1 2 boys and our ad agency. They both have good presentations ready for your approval, Senator. I think you'll be pleased.” “How do we shape up on TV, Dick? All our ducks in line ?" “Excellent, Senator. You'll be on network tele­ vision a minimum of three times between now and election day—just about perfect, no danger of overexposure." “Have you licked the makeup thing yet, Dick?" asked Belinda Hennington. “A small detail but it probably cost one man the presidency. We don't want that to happen to us." “No sweat, Mrs. Hennington. Max Factor came out with a complete new line right after that fiasco. I think we'll be using ‘Graying Temples,' in keep­ ing with our maturity image. As we all know, the youth bit is out nowadays. Fortunately with the senator we can play it either way." “Good show, Dick," said the senator. “Harry?" “I've run the results of our polls through the computers, both the IBM 436 and the Remington Rand 1401. Louis Harris gave us a random pat­ tern sampling with peer-group anchorage; Gallup a saturation vertical-syndrome personality study and NORC an ethnic and racial cross-section symbiology. The results check out on both com­ puters, although I'm programing a third as a safety-valve check-out. “The computers have you winning the election, Senator, but by less than three thousand votes. A small shift and there goes the ball game." The senator, startled and troubled, glanced ner­ vously toward his wife. She gave him a smile of reassurance. “Do the computers indicate a possible break­ 3 through,” he asked, “with any of the peer groups? How do we stand with the Jewish vote?” “You're solid with the Jews, Senator. Where you're in trouble is with the Negroes.” “The Negroes!” exclaimed Senator Hennington. “Why, I have the best voting record on civil rights on Capitol Hill. Just last year I broke the ADA record for correct voting on civil rights with 97.64.” “Our polls reveal a sharp decline just after your speech requesting a moratorium on civil-rights demonstrations. If we can regain most of the lost Negro percentile, Senator, we're home free.” “No use crying about a lack of voter loyalty. This calls for a ‘think session.' Perhaps we should have our special assistant on minorities and civil rights sit in; although I'm not sure how helpful he'll prove. Frankly, I'm disappointed by his performance so far.” “Judy,” said the senator into his office intercom, “Think session in here. No calls, please, and can­ cel all morning appointments. And ask Carter Summerfield to join us, will you?” The senator turned to his wife as they awaited the arrival of Summerfield. “Belinda, I'm beginning to have serious doubts about Summerfield, he hasn't come up with a fresh idea since he joined us, and I don't expect anything other than tired cliches from him today.” “He's fine in a campaign, Gil, that's where he'll shine. I don't think you ought to rely on him for theory.” “Perhaps you're right. I guess it's not brains we're looking for in him anyway.” “No,” she smiled. “That's his least valuable com­ modity to us.” 4 The senator swiveled his leather-covered chair half-round and gazed out at the Washington Monu­ ment. “This question of the Negro vote could be serious. I never thought I'd ever be in trouble with those people. We have to come up with something which will remind them Fm the best friend they have in Washington, and soon.” Carter Summerfield had sat in his office all morning, worried and concerned. He sensed the senator was not pleased with his performance and could not understand why. Summerfield had sought desperately to discover what it was the senator wanted to hear in order that he might say it, and was amazed to find that the senator seemed annoyed when his own comments were re­ turned, only slightly paraphrased. In all his ca­ reer as a professional Negro, Summerfield had never before encountered a white liberal who ac­ tually wanted an original opinion from a Negro concerning civil rights, for they all considered themselves experts on the subject. Summerfield found it impossible to believe Senator Henning­ ton any different from the others. He had spent the morning searching for the source of the senator's displeasure until his head ached; the handwriting was on the wall and Sum­ merfield knew his job was at stake. He must dis­ cover the source of displeasure and remove it. Per­ haps he should wear ready-made clothes? Had the senator somehow seen him driving the Lincoln, rather than the Ford he always drove to the office ? It was essential never to have a more impressive car than one's boss. He told all his newly inte­ grated Negro friends that. Had anyone discov­ ered the encounter with the white girl in Colora- 5 do Springs when he had accompanied the senator on a trip to the Air Force Academy? He had been certain he had acted with the utmost secrecy and discretion. But he had known even then that it was a stupid move which might threaten his en­ tire career. Summerfield took two Gelusils and a tranquil­ izer and reached for the phone to inquire dis­ creetly of his fellow integrated Negro friends if there was word on the grapevine of an opening for a man of his experience. The phone rang. It was Senator Hennington's secretary summoning him to the senator's office for a think session. Smiling, as always when in the presence of whites, Summerfield entered the senator's office, his eyes darting from face to face for some sign concerning his present status. But the looks of the other members of the staff were no longer funereal and the senator greeted him with a warm smile as he motioned Summerfield to an empty chair, briefly inquiring about his wife and children. “It seems, Carter," said the senator, “that we're in serious trouble with the Negro vote." Summer­ field frowned in sympathy and concern. “We must come up with a fresh, dramatic and headline- capturing act on my part which will prove to my colored constituents that I'm the best friend they have in Washington." He swept the room again with his steely gaze, Gary Cooper, back to the wall, but undaunted. “And we must do it today." Summerfield nervously licked his lips. “How about calling a conference of the responsible Ne­ gro leaders to discuss your new civil-rights bill, Senator?" The senator considered for a moment. “I don't think so, Carter. To be perfectly frank, 6 I don't think the bill will pass this session. White backlash." . “How about a fact-finding tour of the African countries ?" said Dick. “No, I did that last year and still haven't kicked the dysentery I picked up on safari in Tangan­ yika." “How about a speech attacking apartheid at Capetown University ?" asked Harry. “I don't think South Africa would grant me a visa." “Gil," said the senator's wife, “why don't we accuse the Central Intelligence Agency of a dis­ criminatory hiring policy?" “Segregation in CIA?" “Yes. They have no Negro officers at all; mostly menial and clerical help." “Are you certain, Belinda? This could be what we're looking for." “I'm positive, but I'll check it out. We have a man in personnel over there, you know." “Couldn't a charge of that nature prove counter­ productive, Mrs. Hennington?" asked Dick. “CIA's almost as untouchable as the FBI." “Not since U-2 and the Bay of Pigs. And this should prove an irresistible combination for the press: cloak and dagger and civil rights." “I'm inclined to agree, Belinda," said the sena­ tor, who was usually inclined to agree with his attractive wife.