Pau* 4, Portland Obser er, March 25 19b?
_______ .Capitol Hill in Black and White
Part one of a three part series on the revelations of the former martre d of
the Senate dining room Reprinted by permission of Dodd Mead Er Com­
pany, Inc . from "Capitol Hill in Black and W hite," by Robert Parker and
Richard Rashke, copyright 1986
Mr Yawn was the most powerful white man in Magnolia, forty miles
north of Houston, and in all of Montgomery County as well Besides my
daddy Mr Yawn worked forty other sharecroppers, each tilling seventy
five acres For the seed and tools he gave us, he kept two thirds of the
cash crop And besides the land we worked for him, Mr Yawn owned a
huge cattle ranch and a sugarcane plantation along the Brazos River to the
west, where the soil was black and fertile, unlike ours He even had his own
sugar mill, and in the winter months I used to lead the mules that turned
the cane grinder
Mr Yawn was also the Grand Dragon of the Montgomery County Ku
Klux Kian I use<1 to think the Kian was fascinating when I was little A
friend and I had heard about their secret meetings in the woods not far from
my house W e used to slither on our bellies to the edge of the clearing
where they met and, wide eyed, watch the burning crosses and white
hooded forms glowing pink and orange in the firelight W e didn t under
stand what they were so excited about, but as two Negro boys at the edge
of the white man’s mysterious world, we figured they d be plenty sore if
make them hurry, or the anger borftng in his stomach like a sulphur spring
I couldn't see beyond my own boyish rage, and I didn t understand, as he
did, what it meant to be a Negro in east Texas
Forgetting how tired I was. I pitched split oak and pine logs faster than
I had ever done before, until sweat dripped from my face and my arms
ached, and when the wagon was full we drove as fast as Jack and Nelly
could drag us back to the lonely spot m the road where we lad left Rebecca
The wagon groaned under the weight It seemed to be crawling to the
crack of the whip and the "giddy up that echoed in my ears
I saw her from a distance, sitting still at the side of the road hugging her
sweater, and I had to stop myself from leaping off the wagon and running
to her When my daddy finally halted the wagon, she climbed aboard but
didn’t say a word
What s wrong?" I asked My sister and I were very
close "W hat happened? Why you crying?"
Robbie, as I called her. said nothing, but hung her head as if she were
ashamed to look me in the face, and the tears rolled quietly down her
cheeks like dewdrops on a flower My daddy didn’t say anything either
What could he say to his fifteen year old daughter whom he had just sent
to a white man to be raped ?
they caught us spying on them
It didn’t take me long to lose my fascination with the Kian One night
a posse of white robes carrying torches stopped at our house and shouted
for my daddy to come out I could almost smell his foar I watched through
the open door, and I can well imagine my mouth was hanging down to my
belt The horses were pawing the ground and prancing nervously, the flick
ering flames were casting shadows around the yard, and a mean voice was
shouting from inside a white hood, "Nigger, you see so and so? We re
looking for him He killed a white man up in Conroe ” My daddy said, "No,
suh," nice and polite, and the posse thundered off to the next Negro home
I didn't know yet what that encounter in the night was all about, but I was
alone that day
For my part, I wouldn't see or forgive my father for thirty six years Only
after I had worked in Washington for Lyndon Johnson did I come to recog
mze that blacks had no rights under the law in places like Magnolia, Texas
none My daddy had done the right thing, for he had no real choice Had
he stood up to Mr Yawn the way I had expected and hoped he would,
Robbie would have been raped anyway and perhaps physically battered and
beaten as well, my daddy would have been whipped and probably lynched,
and our house would have been burned to the ground My mother might
have been raped for good measure, and I and my brothers might have been
castrated I finally came to realize that if all that had happened, there would
not have been one single thing he could have done about it. It took me
twenty seven years to learn what my daddy had known all along
sure it had nothing to do with a Sunday picnic.
My real introduction to the Kian was in every way the brutal experience
it was meant to be One morning, a truck came down the dirt road next to
our house raising a cloud of dust Two white men sat in the cab and one of
them was shouting through a bullhorn, "Take a good look at this, niggers,
and don’t ever forget it
Tied by his feet with a long rope dragging in the
dirt was a boy I had known He had bean tarred, feathered, and lynched
for allegedly casting a lustful glance at a white girl My mother tried to hide
the hideous scene from me, but before she could get me into the house I
had seen and heard everything the white folks wanted me to From that
moment on, I lost all my fascination with the Kian, and it was no longer a
mystery to me.
Where you been, nigger?" Mr
sack with the rattler Although I didn t tell Richard, I knew exactly what I
was going to do Mr Yawn s empire was so large that he used to travel it
every day by car and by horse
Pulling his horse trailer, he’d drive the
Chevy as close as he could to the fields he wanted to inspect Then he'd
leave the cat parked by the side of the road and ride off on Prince I made
up my mind to watch for the blue car and then put the two snakes inside
If I was lucky, they would kill him If I wasn t. Mr Yawn would be one hell
of a scared or sick white man I talked it over with Robbie, and she agreed
to be in on the plot
My mother found out before we could plant the snakes I’m not certain,
but I think Richard told her I was collecting them in a sack She sat me
down and lectured me good
Don’t you know, boy.” she said, that the
Bible says Thou shalt not kill ? You let those snakes be
That night she told my father and he came after me with a razor strap
It was the worst beating he ever gave me. and I couldn t forgive him I was
the only one who was man enough to stand up to Mr Yawn, and i, was me
who was being punished My father had the courage to beat his fifteen
year old boy, but couldn't even speak up to the white man who had raped
his own daughter It just wasn’t right
My mother had the sense to see the bitterness growing in me. and she
knew that my hatred for Mr Yawn was spilling over onto my own father
I was heading for certain trouble if I stayed in Magnolia At worst, I would
be lynched At best. I’d have my tongue cut out. or I'd be castrated as
others had been or I’d be whipped until I was broken and crippled So in
1936 she packer! me up and sent me to live with my aunt in Wichita Falls,
where I would soon meet Lyndon Baines Johnson.
My mother did the right thing, and I knew it at the time I’ve never held
it against her She died at the age of thirty eight, worn out from bearing
too many children too fast with no proper medical care, and too much
worry Robbie died at the age of twenty one I can't be sure, but I've al
ways felt that, along with her virginity Mr Yawn took her will to live My
one great regret is that she died before forgiving our father for leaving her
______________NEXT WEEK
Yawn demanded of my daddy as he
leaned over Prince to peer down at us
Back yonder, suh," my father said
What you been doing?"
W e be cuttin' wood "
"Then why you going down this road with an empty wagon? Wtiy don t
you niggers think for once in your life? You could have loaded it with wood
and then unloaded it at my house or yours, and not waste all that tune
Turn that wagon around, you dumb rugger, and go back and fill it up
"Yes, suh," my father said, and he seemed older and more bent when
he said it I hated Mr Yawn more than I feared him when he talked to my
father like that, and I was always disappointed when my daddy never spoke
up to defend himself I couldn't understand, with the great wisdom of an
eleven year old. why he didn't |ust tell the white man that we had been
cutting wood all day and were too tired to load and unload the wagon one
more time I thought my father was playing coward, and I didn’t like it one
bit
Mr Yawn looked at Rebecca, huddled close to me against the evening
chill, dressed in a cotton shifl and sweater She was a quiet, obedient girl
with wide, bright eyes, and she was such a hard worker that my daddy used
to bring her to the fields to help us instead of our mother
"G al," Mr Yawn told her. "you get off that wagon and sit here and talk
to m e."
My father spoke up quickly "Us needs her
"I want her to stay here with me, nigger.’ Mr Yawn shouted
Rebecca climbed off the wagon, and I could see she was scared Why
would this white man want to talk to her? What did she have to say? I was
frightened too, because I feared something bad was going to happen I
waited for my daddy to order Rebecca back onto the wagon, but he didn t
say a word He must tiave sensed that I was about to do something foolish,
for I heard turn threaten under his breath, "You stay put. boy1
My father turned the wagon around and headed back to the woodpile I
looked at his face, hoping to meet his eyes I could see the muscles in his
law working tiard. but he kept his eyes down as if he were watching for
potholes in the road Every now and then, he pulled a red handkerchief
from his hip pocket, pretending to blow his nose But I could see him dab
bmg his eyes
I didn't break the silence because I was afraid my father would hit me
He was a strict, religious man who stood for no sass from his sons But I
was more angry at him than I had ever been at anyone If he had stood up
to Mr Yawn, I reasoned, the most the white man would have done would
have tieen to yell at him or maybe hit him a few times with that snake of a
whip curled around his saddlehorn That would have been a small price to
pay to protect his own daughter I was just too young to understand I
couldn't read the helplessness in my father’s face as I can now. the humilia
tion in his bent shoulders as he tapped tho mules with the reins trying to
Public Invited
The Episcopal Church women of St Philip The Deacon at ,20 N E Knott
Street cordially invites the public to an unusual art exhibit and demonstra
tion presented by Progressive Fine Arts. Inc The event is arranged for
Sunday March ?9ih to mark our annual "Lenten Green Tea
The presentation will include flower arranging for churches and for large
spaces, as well as an internationally known artist who uses silks, satins,
gold threads and |ewels in his designs of altar hangings and vestments for
clergy Another exhibit will show an expert’s work with fine linens, embroi
ders and silver Also a knowledgeable weaver will show her expertise with
Life W ith LBJ_____________
Plan N o w To A tten d
Harvest Time Ministries is holding their 2nd Benefit Dinner
Friday, April 3rd, 1987, at 7 p.m. at the Ramada Inn at the
Coliseum, 10 N Weidler St., Portland, OR 97227
Tickets are $25 00 per person or $45.00 for two. For more
information, call 281 1862
Author Robert Parker
C ourtesy of Fox Studio
W e were silent the rest o f th e w a y ho m e
Got M y Religion in Tim e
W e d id n ’t hum
I m So Glad I
I d id n 't th in k G od was w ith us and I w asn t
hungry anym ore
Ours was a peaceful home with (»raying and Bible reading and neigh
bors coming in for weekday religious services with my father, who could
pray like no one I've ever heard But that night my mother’s eyes were
filed with fire
Why you do it?" she shouted at my father
Why you
leave her?" No matter what my father said to defend himself, it sounded so
weak and sniveling to me that I can t even remeber it to this day
My
mother had dared to ask the questions I couldn't And like her I was not
satisfied with the answers
Several days later, after relentless pestering. Robbie told me that Mr
Yawn had taken his pleasure with her, not that I hadn I suspected i, all
along Knowing about sex comes early when you live with as little privacy
as we did, and where the walls were cardboard thin
"What he say?” I pressed Robbie
' He say, 'You supposed to do this, gal You owe it If you fight me
I’ll put this whip to you. gal
I cried myself to sleep many a night after Robbie told me what happened,
and as the days grew into weeks and months, so did my hatred of Mr
Yawn Robbie was never the same again The white man had stolen her
dignity and dirtied a precious corner of her self when he had taken her, at
dusk, on the leaves in the woods She couldn't look at the world anymore
with the bright, childlike eyes she used to have, full of wonder and delight
The sparkle had died and in its place, it seemed to me then, there was sad
ness, maybe guilt, certainly disappointment in her daddy
We swore to get even with Mr Yawn, Robbie and I My vow w.is like a
worm in my stomach that gnawed from daylight until I fell asleep at night
Sometimes it even ate into my dreams With each passing year. I grew
angrier at my father and more full of hate for our landlord As happens when
one matures. I began asking more and more questions and found fewer
and fewer answers Like every Negro boy I knew. I began to see that there
wore two worlds, one black and one white, and I came to ai cept the tact
that it would always be that way What I wanted to know was why. be
cause it wasn't right
Then one day in 1936, when I was fifteen years old I found a rattlesnake
in a potato sack in our shed I tied the end of the burlap bag closed and
hung it in a tree A day or so later, my brother Richard caught a copper
head in a field and gave it to me in a box He watched me put it into the
the restoration of fine old fabrics
There will be paintings, sculptures, music and singing during the tea
hours from , 00 to 5 00 p m The tea and exhibit to be held in the parish
hall at St Philip Church
For information, call Bernice Davis, Episcopal Churchwoman, Tea Chair
man, 274 0 7,3
Turn TV Upside Down!!
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for our board committees to help with the excitement of local TV We need
people with experience in planning and development, community relations,
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committee meetings occur one evening a month We re a non profit cor
poration with provides access to the medium of cable television for our
community at large Please call us at 2B8 ,5 ,5 or write to us at Portland
Cable Access, 2766 N E Union Avenue, Portland 97212 for further mfor
matron.
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