What is "RUNIN ANACOSTIA"

The purpose of this Web-book is to provide a portrait of life in the community east of the Anacostia River, often referred by Locals as Ward 8.


This portrait is a narrative non-fiction and is true to life with the exception of some name and character changes to protect individuals' privacy.


The life story of our main character, Sonny Williams, is true based on observations and interviews that I conducted.


In this book, I am combining two distinct but mutually linked sections that have similar themes and messages:





1) My observations and experiences in DC obtained through interactions with my contractors while renovating my fixer-upper on 500 Lebaum Street. (For ease of use, these chapters physically reside in another site:www.runinmaverick.blogspot.com but are available on this blog via the link list provided on the right-hand column.)


While renovating the house, I befriended several of my contractors who provide me a first-hand view of Ward 8 as well as their suggestions on how to improve the neighborhood.


2) The life story of Sonny Williams, the main character of the story who purchased 500 Lebaum Street in 1968 and sold it to me via his daughter as a power of attorney, 35 years later.


When Sonny and Anne purchased their newlywed home, the area in Congress Heights was lively and vibrant.  Then came the gangs and the strip clubs, heroin and crack and the once idyllic community went downhill fast. 


Through Sonny's voice, I describe his observations and explanations of how Ward 8 turned from neighborly to downright dangerous in a matter of several years.


How to Read


The best way to read this web-book is via the link list that is provided on the right-hand column of the blog.  These links are synched together via two separate blogs (My Story and Sonny's Story)


Do I have to follow the Chapters chonologically?


Although it is recommended to read the Web-book by the sequence provided on the link list, you are more than welcome to randomly browse the modules below to sample and try out certain chapters or certain topics that interest you.


What makes this Web-Book different?


1) The "RUNIN" format -- a logical and effective new way to better understand and frame the content.  Click here for more information on what "RUNIN" means and stands for. 


2) The use of Social Media Widgets provide a more broader and in-depth background information delivering context, education and understanding.


  • YouTube of old news reports
  • Google Earth and images
  • Old Headlines
  • Wikipedia Widgets
  • Podcasts of Chapter materials as well as sound effects and narratives spaced strategically throughout the chapters that provide context and understanding
  • Links of Relevant News Stories
  • Snap Shots providing contextual content info of all hyperlinks
  • Timelines
  • Graphs
  • Word Pictures from Wordle
  • Comments and Reactions from Readers
Etc.


Why This Approach?


Because I believe that reading should be interactive, messages should be framed and learning should be visualized.


Living and Breathing Web-Book


As of Jan 1, 2009, I am working on Chapt 30.  When the Web-book is completed by the end of 2010, there will be approximately 100 chapters available.  However the Web-Book is content-rich and message-driven, so you are highly encouraged to start reading today.


Do you have other RUNIN projects?


Yes, I am working on several. The links are provided via the drop down bar to your right.  However, this is the only Web-Book that I'm currently working on.


Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy the Web-book.  Please let me know if you have any questions or inputs.



Chapter 23 Sonny and the Ladies



One night, Sonny was transporting fresh produce from Miami to New York, with his co-driver, Dave Jewel. It had been a busy day on the highway, with traffic crawling at a snail’s pace. Finally, after eight hours of non-stop driving, exhausted and hungry as the sea, they stopped in Brunswick, Georgia, to get dinner. Even though they had a little more ground to cover before calling it a day and spending the night at a wayside truck stop. Sonny’s instincts warned him to be alert and to be careful. In this part of the country, the Jim Crow laws were the way of life. These laws were state and local laws implemented in the US south and Border States during 1876 and 1965. Legally, black Americans were supposed to receive “separate but equal” status, but in reality, this got translated to discrimination and much less-than-equal treatment to blacks. These laws required that public schools, public places and public transportation have separate facilities for whites and blacks. It seemed so unjust and unreasonable. Yet, Sonny did not let these restrictions affect him or hamper his attitude to life. Being a peace-loving man, he often went out of his way to avoid conflict. There were, for instance, several times that he stopped to eat in the Deep South. Sonny’s first task, when reaching a small town, was to inquire where the colored people ate. When there were no eateries for blacks, Sonny was forced to step into “Whites Only” eating places. He recalls humiliating experiences trying to buy food at “Whites Only” restaurants, when those were the only ones in existence in the area



Late one afternoon, driving through Georgia, Sonny came to a small town. He had not eaten since a late night snack in Richmond, Virginia, so his hunger was intense as a sub-saharan drought. Sonny first searched for restaurants that served colored people, but to no avail. He had little choice. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but the hunger pangs were so overwhelming, that he had lost his sense of reasoning. He drove right into a parking lot filled with Buick Le Sabres and Chevrolet Belairs. But this didn’t intimidate him. He hopped out of the cab and walked right in, completely ignoring the sign that read “Whites Only. No Colored Allowed”.


As Sonny tried to step inside, he was firmly pushed aside.
“Can you read nigga boy?”
Sonny stared face to face at a man with eyes that looked like death warmed over. Hadn’t seen that look since the state trooper pulled him over in Warner Robbins or his drill sergeant at Fort Meade, so mean the Boots would call him “Killer”.
The man grabbed Sonny by his collar and started to yank him out.
“Let him go, “ yelled a man from behind the counter. “We’ll feed him
Sonny turned to see an unassuming Black man wearing a black cap, white shirt and dark tie. “Man’s hungry. Can’t you tell. Have him go outside and come in through the back door. We’ve got some ham and turkey leftovers from lunch yesterday. We’ve done made enough turkey chowder for tonight’s special. No sense throwing good food away.”
Sonny walked out and around towards the kitchen entrance at the back. He walked into the dimly-lit kitchen and stood there, unsure of what to do. Remnants of food, food shavings and other debris could be seen on the dirty tables and the unswept floor. The stale odors were fast dampening his desire for food. Sonny stood aside waiting, while the waitress rushed in and out of the kitchen, serving the white customers in the front dining area. Finally, after about 20 minutes, she came back to the kitchen, looked at Sonny and asked, “So, you want food? There is some turkey pie over yonder.” Sonny looked at the messed up congealed food with distaste. The waitress observed his expression with indifference. “Up to you. Take it or leave it.” The blatant discrimination stung badly, but Sonny was determined not to be provoked. He bought the food and walked out in silence. Yet, whenever Sonny drove south, he was on the lookout for eating houses for blacks. He would rather drive an extra hour than to spend two dealing with frustration and humiliation.
The next day, Sonny was once more at the wheel, and famished from hours upon hours of trucking. Coming to a halt in Macon at the first traffic light, Sonny could see out of the corner of his eye, an elderly black man limping along going somewhere but nowhere fast.
The black man held a cane and on the other dragged a bag of groceries.
Sonny rolled down his window. “Good afternoon sir. Need a lift?”
The man smiled and shook his head slightly. “I certainly would but your rig is too big to take me home. I’ll just find a bench and take the load off for a minute or two before I continue on. I’ll be OK son. Now go on and leave an old man alone.”
“You sure, pops”? I might be driving an 18-wheeler, but I know how to squeeze this rig into some of the tightest spots this side of the Mississippi. By the way, we’ve been driving day and night, and we havent’ stopped for food. Where in God's Country can we please find a warm, creamy bowl of soup and some pieces of bread to chew on?"
The man smiled brightly. He knew exactly what Sonny was talking about. Knew it so well that it brought him tears to his eyes. “The colored folks’ section is on the other side of town, a few miles down the road,” he said as he lifted his cane and pointed in that direction.
“Well hop onboard sir. We’re heading into town cuz that’s the only place a man of color can get a home cooked meal without slipping through the back kitchen door of some greasy spoon. So we might as well take you home so we can at least eat like we’re close to home.”
”Alright, if you insist,” the old man replied.
Jewel jumped out to lend him a hand and Sonny grabbed the bag of groceries. “Man, you’ve got enough food in here to feed a football team for a whole week.”
Soon, Sonny had steered his rig through all those narrow streets and arrived on the other side of town. The man asked to be dropped off a block away from his house, but Sonny insisted on taking him directly home. So Sonny parked the rig a block away and walked the elderly man to his front door. He rang the bell and waited patiently. Within a minute, a middle aged woman gave Sonny a suspicious look but then immediately was glad to see her father.
“There you are, sir. Thanks for the directions. Take care of that knee you hear,” Sonny waved goodbye and walked away. He had not felt this good since he helped out the two elderly ladies on a icy winter day finding a way to bring them fuel oil when their boiler had run dry and everyone else had given up.
Sonny drove his rig further outside of the main thoroughfare because he didn’t want to obstruct traffic. He found a shady spot to park a few blocks away and both men strode casually across the field to the restaurant tucked cozily away amongst humble homefronts and oak trees. As soon as, Sonny and Jewel walked in, they were pleasantly surprised by the elegant décor and the warm atmosphere. There were a few people sipping coffee, reading the local weekly and swapping stories about their community. The setting reminded Sonny of a diner he would visit in Laurel, MD., when he was stationed in Fort Meade. It looked almost identical except this time there were no men in uniform, not even a police officer or a postman.
Sonny took the first table closest to the window that afforded him a view of his truck. As he sat down, his attention was immediately diverted by a different view. It had been such a long time since he had seen someone so young, so fresh so beautiful.
It may have been the color of her skin – chocolate hue with a flush of brown. Her bright round eyes, her long flowing hair, her voluptuous breast. All of a sudden, Sonny felt on top of the world. Felt young again – like he was still training boots for the 82nd, like he was still was boxing Curtis Rowe for the boxing championship in Panama.
“Good afternoon gentlemen. Welcome to Joe’s Diner. My name is Daisy. Can I get you something to drink, perhaps a pitcher of ice cold water or some sweet tea, sun tea or lemonade?”
“Nice to meet you. My name is Sonny and this is my friend Jewel. We have been on the road for practically the whole week, running up and down the Eastern Seaboard like we're some lawless bandits, and I swear, I haven’t laid eyes on anyone or anything as sweet and luscious as you.”
The young woman blushed. “Why thank you,” she said, trying her best to keep a straight face. “Tea, water or lemonade today. It’s fresh and homemade.”
”Sonny was mesmerized by Daisy’s bright smile and her full lips that unveiled a wide row of almost flawless white teeth.
“Wow, doesn’t get much better than that. Tea sweetheart with an extra dash of sugar please.”
She couldn’t help but smile as she felt the look – Deep and sincere penetrating deep into a place thin and clear, a place that no one had aroused since her father died, since her sister got married, since her boyfriend left for a better life in New York City, promised to write but never did.
“You’re mighty flattering, but you might be saying that to every female you come across, at every diner, every truck stop from Boston to Miami. ” Her voice shifted a serious tone as she handed over the menus. Take your time with these Hon. Know you’re hungry so we want to feed you real good.”
“What do you recommend?” Sonny asked.
“The fried catfish is on special and extra crispy. The pork ribs are extra juicy. Can I recommend a side of fried okra or collard greens?”
Sonny shook his head. “The specials look great. But I’ve got an appetite for steak and eggs and perhaps a hearty serving of grits,” Sonny sounded wistful and his eyes glowed softly at her.
Daisy shook her head vigorously. “You’ve been on the road too long, must have lost track of time. Don’t you know it’s dinner time now sweetie.”
“Ain’t no matter. Breakfast goes down good anytime of the day or night, especially when you’ve been driving through the entire night. It’s whatever the stomach says it wants, and right now I know exactly what it’s telling me,”
“I’ll second that. We’ve been eating steak and eggs during the wee hours of the morning, so I could definitely go for something hearty but not too heavy,” Jewel said.
“Well I normally wouldn’t do this for just anybody. But my trucker customers from out of town--now that is different. I’ll talk to the chef and see what we can do back there to special order your dinners exactly the way you like it.”
“Much obliged, sweet Daisy. You’re definitely making this trip to Joe’s Diner ‘s in Macon, Georgia worthwhile.”
The order took a while to prepare. The ice from the cold glass of tea started to melt, the glass sweating at the touch. Almost half an hour later, Daisy finally appeared with the food. Walking right behind her was another young waitress.. Daisy placed the dishes on the table and extended her hand in the direction of her friend. “Gentlemen, I would like you to meet my sidekick an best friend, Jeannette. We went to high school together and we both live just a couple doors away, not too far from this diner, in fact.”
Sonny rose from his seat, extending his hand. “Very nice to meet you . You’re just as pretty and sweet as your friend. I’m Sonny and this is my co-pilot, Jewel.”
Lynette put the dishes down and gave her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, too. When you guys wanted to order breakfast at dinner time, this caught us completely by surprise. But we’re here to please. We had to chase down a few chickens, shake loose a couple eggs, and skin a few potatoes, but in the end, we were able to manage. Then Daisy called me and said that she sure could use a hand. So here I am gentlemen – Lynette Brown at your service.
Sonny appeared mesmerized by the collective charm of the two females. “Well we’re really glad you’re here Lynette, you sure have one the prettiest hands this side of the Mason Dixon line.”
Lynette blushed. “How kind of you Mr. Sonny.” She carried on conversationally as she served them, “So I really admire your rig. I heard the loud roar of the big rig coming down the road earlier today and looked out the window and saw you and Jewel driving into town like you was the 3rd Calvary or something.”
Sonny chuckled. “Absolutely. I’m glad you got a chance to steal a glimpse. This eighteen wheeler of mine is as strong as Pittsburgh steel and as tough as New York City.. She’s been up and down the Eastern Seaboard all the way north to Pershal, Maine, where it gets below freezing by Halloween and down the coast through DC and all the way south to the tippy end of Key West – God’s Country. ”
Lynette stared in fascination. “Wow, I bet your rig is real powerful.”
“Yes her big engines do rumble and she can definitely coast as smooth as a V-8 on melted butter.”
“Would sure love to see her sometime,” Daisy added.
Sonny pounced at the opportunity. “Well what time do you girls get off?”
Daisy replied with an equally innocent expression on her face. “Well, Mondays are usually pretty slow, so we might be closing up shortly after you guys hit the road.”
Sonny pounded his fist on the flimsy table, the salt and pepper shakers spilled over. “Well what could be easier than that Ladies? , After dinner, we’ll treat ourselves to some of your homemade pecan pie. We’ll stick around while you girls clean up and finish up. ”
“What did you have in mind?” Daisy asked.
“Jewel and I can give you a personal tour and a ride of your lives on my 18-wheeler,” Sonny replied.
Daisy suddenly looked uncertain. “Weeell........ I really don’t know. I mean, we really don’t know you. Most truck drivers we know are kind of gross and mean.”
“What do you mean?” Jewel asked indignantly.
“I’ve seen truck drivers pick their nose on the table then lick their fingers afterwards like they were eating fried chicken,” Daisy shuddered. “We got the impression that you are all like that – Slimebags.”
“Nah, we’re not like the rest of them truckers. Jewel and I, we’re decent human beings.”
“Most of the time them truckers talk trash and say something like this, ‘Hey, if I was 20 years younger, I would take you home with me and make you feel so good that you’ll never go back.’”
A crack of laughter. Then Sonny added on a serious note, “Well, I ain’t that old, but I am not trying to be fresh, either. We sure am proud of our truck and we want you to see it for yourself, if you know what I mean.”
Sonny settled the bill and left the girls a copious tip.
As Daisy and Lynette cleared the table, their excitement was barely concealed. “Wow, we can’t wait. Let’s clean up, so we can go.”
Not long afterwards, the four of them hopped aboard Sonny’s rig. He proudly showed the girls the four spoke wood and leather steering wheel, the horn chain, the CB radio and all the instruments and gauges on the dashboard, enjoying the rapt expressions on their faces. He let Daisy step on the clutch and the brake. He allowed Lynette to turn the steering wheel. She loved the feel of the leather against her palm.
“I could be a trucker,” Daisy said.
“You would be a mighty fine trucker, Daisy. But even the best truckers need directions every now and then, so you’ll have to learn how to operate the CB radio.
Sonny flipped on channel 19, the Truckers Channel. “Ok, Daisy, I want you to come on and say ‘Breaker, breaker’,” Sonny said. “Always listen to what the other party has to say and always be polite when on the air.”
Daisy hesitated for a moment then picked up the receiver. “Breaker, Breaker.”
There was a long pause. Suddenly some random static.
“Breaker, breaker, what’s your handle?” the radio crackled.
“Your name,” Sonny whispered to her ear. “Tell him your name. Say your name is Silver Britches. Ask him if there’s any Smokies around.”
“This is Silver Britches. Umm, any Smokies in the area?” A shout of laughter from the back. Daily managed her best to keep a straight face but let it all go as soon as she released the mike.
“Daisy, this is Benny. There’s a Smokey Bear five miles south on Macon Highway. exit 10. Be careful, he’s catching all the speedsters as they enter their homestretch.”
”Ten four, Thank you Benny. checking out now.”
“Wow, that sure was exciting. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“You’re sure welcome. You’re a natural at this Daisy.”
“And this trucker gave you some valuable information that would be critical if you were hauling a load,” Jewel said.
“Yes, maybe one day. If I ever get out of here, serving customers and making tea,” Daisy replied.
Daisy and Lynette exchanged glances. “What ‘s next? Perhaps we can all go to my place for some drinks,” Daisy offered.
Sonny was relieved. “Sounds like a fantastic idea,” he replied, turning to Jewel, who nodded in agreement, showing absolute excitement and pleasure.
Sonny drove to Daisy’s house as she directed him. He parked the rig a couple blocks away and pulled in slowly his engines on idle. They walked quietly at first, almost on tip-toes, but then began to giggle with a burst of laughter here and there. The neighbors looked through windows, heard the gentle roar of the truck, the couples holding hands. Thought they were whispering but now everyone knew. Even Uncle Jack ,as he looked out from his back bedroom window.
As soon as they entered the house, everyone plopped down cozily in a couch in a darkened room laughing their hearts out.
“So this is quite a lovely place. We are really fortunate that you invited us here,” Sonny said as he looked around the living room, admiring the array of beautiful landscapes in watercolor paintings and other décor adding color on the wall.
“Yes, it’s because of Uncle Jack,” Daisy replied.
“What you mean?”
“We saw you two drive Uncle Jack into town and acted like such a gentleman that you even walked him all the way home.
“Yeah, Uncle Jack is not just family, he’s the local war hero. He served his country as an infantryman in Germany during World War I. So our hope is to return the favor and Sonny since you served in the Army, you know what I’m talking about.”
Sonny smiled and looked into her eyes. War hero during the First world war – what a significant accomplishment. Sonny had served but he had never gone overseas; the only one trip outside the US was to Puerto Rico for the boxing championship.
Lynette opened up a bottle of Whiskey and within minutes the pungent aroma of Jack Daniels permeated the air. They drank hard, swilled down the entire contents of the bottle as if it was raspberry juice.
It tasted great. It had been a long time since he drank this hard. And now with the company of two beautiful woman and a night of rest and not having to drive all night or having to sleep in the back of the truck—nothing could be better.
Then the lights went out.
It didn’t take long for Sonny to find Daisy’s hand on his lap. Didn’t take long before Sonny felt the soothing touch of Daisy’s full, warm lips all over his rough, unshaven face. Her fingers brushed like butterfly wings over his face Then is lips touched her hair, so warm and unruly to his shoulders. Her sweet fragance invaded his heart and smelled like fresh flowers, light as a spring rain.
It became awfully quiet and seemed almost an infinity. Sonny turned around and noticed they were now alone. From upstairs, suddenly a rhythmic back and forth sound of bedsprings creaking, headboard banging.
Daisy ran upstairs. She pushed open the door to her bedroom and was aghast at the sight of two naked bodies wrapped tightly into one, not even pausing to see who had come in, not even caring for that matter.
“That’s not fair,” Daisy fumed. “This is my house. My bed. My mattress. Now get out!”
“Never mind, we can make do with the sofa downstairs,” Sonny insisted.
Suddenly, Daisy rushed towards the bed, almost tripping on a pair of shoes that was lying on the floor and started pushing hard against the two bodies until they were completely off the mattress. A loud thunk on the floor.
“Give me a hand!” she yelled as she pulled the mattress off the bed. “Stop it!” Lynette whimpered. Then almost immediately they continued without missing a beat, but this time on the wooden floor and a comforter that Daisy was kind enough to leave behind. Sonny couldn’t help but smile to see the petite girl floundering as she struggled with the mattress down the stairs,,and in no time, they had a makeshift bed in the living room. Sonny’s passion for the woman overwhelmed him. Earlier, he had felt exhausted to the bones. Now his weariness was replaced by heightened sexual desire. He felt a twinge of guilt as he thought of Anne waiting patiently for him at home. But for tonight he would erase her from his mind, wipe her from his subconscious. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that he spent a lot of time on the road and was lonely. He was being dishonest, but it was part of doing business. The job brought good money, fed he kids and he liked working for Phillip. That was enough for now. There was no more explaining or rationalizing.
However, disillusionment came soon enough for Sonny.

Chapt 22 Sonny Meets Jim Crow




Oklahoma City, OK, 1939


     Sonny’s days at Exxon were coming to an end, and he knew that if he didn’t act soon enough, his bills would continue to stack up with red ink written all over them. Normally, he would walk right by the bulletin boards outside the locker room at work, on the way to the breakroom, or on the way for his daily run. But not today. He had a fairly light schedule ahead, and a flyer on the wall caught his eye. “Driver Needed” it read in bold, obstrusive letters. “Work for Owner Operator” it continued. “Work Immediately”. Sonny’s eyes lit up.


 
Though this was new and risky business, it appealed to his entrepreneurial spirit, his love of taking risks. It sounded fun and exciting and reminded him of the time, he drove street cars up and down the streets of Baltimore, seeing new faces and making friends along the way.



Sonny intuitively felt this was a good opportunity to test his capabilities. In addition, he was rather disillusioned with the lack of appreciation for hardworking employees in large businesses. He would take a dive an agree to drive the rig for the owner, deliver large loads in short periods and receive a sizeable percentage of the revenue. Perhaps, one day, he would have his own rig, Sonny thought dreamily. Then he could spend more time at home helping Anne watch the house and take care of the kids and the St E’s patients that were like family.

 
    A week later, Sonny began working for Phillip, a black entrepreneur. Sonny found him an affable person and immediately trusted him with his family’s name. Sonny’s job took him from the sunny Keys to the beautiful Maine coastlines and back to Washington DC. He enjoyed traveling, which stimulated his sense of adventure and heightened his awareness of the atmosphere and culture of new places. He worked with a sense of dedication and drove many hours all through the night.His religious economizing paid off with the receipt of a handsome turnover which he presented to Phillip over the few months he worked for him. Sonny was smoking. He made a profit of at least 15 cents per mile. Sonny also benefited through higher remuneration that made a significant difference towardspaying off his mortgage. The biggest drawback of the job, however, was the strain it placed on his marriage, for Sonny and Anne were compelled to spend many days and many more nights away from each other. While Anne toiled hard taking care of the St E’s patients single-handedly,
Sonny logged long hours on the road -- it all started to take a toll on their relationship, on their marriage, on their well being.  
Wherever he drove, Sonny heard rile and revolting stories of runaway discrimination all over the Deep South, and and towards the northern edges of Richmond, VA. Sonny hoped that there would never be a day when he would himself become a victim of harsh racial discrimination that was not prevalent in the Army.


He saw too much separation at dining establishments, washrooms, public transportation; there were even separate water coolers.
Sonny could not believe such discrimination was mandated by the state governments.



From Wikipedia: "Jim Crow Laws"
The Jim Crow laws were state and local laws in the United States enacted between 1876 and 1965. They mandated de jure racial segregation in all public facilities, with a supposedly "separate but equal" status forblack Americans. In reality, this led to treatment and accommodations that were usually inferior to those provided for white Americans, systematizing a number of economic, educational and social disadvantages.
Some examples of Jim Crow laws are the segregation of public schools, public places and public transportation, and the segregation of restrooms and restaurants for whites and blacks. The U.S. military was also segregated. These Jim Crow Laws were separate from the 1800-66 Black Codes, which had also restricted the civil rights and civil liberties of African Americans. State-sponsored school segregation was declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court of the United States in 1954 in Brown v. Board of Education. Generally, the remaining Jim Crow laws were overruled by the Civil Rights Act of 1964[1] and the Voting Rights Act of 1965.


It had been a grueling day of hard work. Sonny had just hauled a truckload of furniture and Serta mattresses at a local warehouse, and he was more than ready to finally sleep soundly under his own comforter next to the woman he loved.



With no load to carry he was planning to drive straight home to be back in DC by sunset. Sonny had just left town and was cruising easily on the highway, when he saw in the rear view mirror, a state trooper advancing on him, sirens blasting as if the Governor was in town.
That’s weird, Sonny thought. He quickly glanced at the dashboard. Cruising at a comfortable 45 mph, he was well within speed limits. The trooper couldn’t be stopping him. Nothing seemed to be happening on the road either -- everything seemed in order. He pulled over to let the trooper pass him. Incredibly, the trooper pulled right behind him and when he got out of his cruiser, Sonny could see from his rear view mirror, a tall, lanky man wearing a wide-brimmed hat hanging low just over his eyebrows. Sonny rolled down the window.
“Good Morning sir. What seems to be the problem, officer?”
“You were speeding—going 60 in a 45 mph zone.”
“I’m afraid, this is a huge mistake. Don’t think I was going any faster than 40 since I left Warner Robbins.”
The officer gazed hard at Sonny. His eyes strained upwards under his thick eyebrows. “Get out,” he shouted. His eyes all of a sudden turned dark and sinister.

Sonny stepped out and gently closed the door behind him.
“What are you carrying in here,” the officer asked. “Anything I should know?”
”Nothing officer. I just offloaded my entire load—all the furniture I carried down from upstate New York and now I’m heading back home to DC to spend some quality time with family.”
The officer’s expression was one of utter disbelief. “By the way, you were speeding, I could tell you were definitely on the way home. Has it been that long since you’ve had a piece of ass? But let me see for myself whether or not you’re going home with a full load of whatever you’re carrying or whether you’re going home empty handed.”

Sonny was surprised at this turn of events, but he remained unperturbed. He opened the back of the rig and allowed the officer inside, showing him an empty rig that only had piles and piles of furniture pads and skins, straps and a bucket full of tie downs.

The officer surveyed the scene. He went over to the piles of pads, kicked them hard and said brazenly, “I believe I could use some of these.” He then grabbed the best-looking pads, opened the trunk of his cruiser and shoved them all in.

What next, Sonny thought. Did the officer see all he needed to see. Would he be allowed to go? He waited patiently as the officer seemed to contemplate the next step.

He then beckoned Sonny and pointed to the back seat of his cruiser. “Get in,” he shouted. 

Oh, Lawd, what is this now, Sonny thought. This doesn’t look good at all. He wasn’t under arrest, yet he would be under the custody of a police officer who was at racist as it gets. What was the offense? Did he even dare to ask?



Sonny got in and wondered what would happen next. As he sat down, gruesome scenes raced through his mind. Particularly, the memory of Medgar Evers, an African American civil rights activist, gunned down just outside his Mississippi home.



Or the images of the three civil rights workers who journeyed to Mississippi to investigate the murder but became tragic victims instead.
Photography of Medgar Evers' funeral (1963)
He wouldn’t hurt me. There are too many truckers out on the road today. Besides, it’s broad daylight. Sonny was too engrossed with fear that it took him a while to notice what was lying next to him -- a mint Remington 12-gauge shotgun, semi-automatic with a gold trigger.




He had handled one of these before, in the Army at the shooting range. His good friend in the infantry had his own personal gun and would show Sonny how to take it apart and clean it like it was his own pride and joy. A primitive and instinctual part of him wanted to pick it up and feel the cold steel on his hand. Wanted to look inside the bore and see how clean it was. But then reality set in. He was no longer in Ft. Bragg with the 82nd Airborne.

View Larger Map
He was just outside Warner Robbins, Georgia, in the custody of a Smoky Bear who would enjoy nothing more than to put him behind bars.

He thought about his boss, Phillip, who was relying on him to bring back the workhorse that meant more to him than a roof over his head. Of Anne and his newborn kids who relied on his income to put food on the table and to pay the utilities and the house payments. He couldn’t do any of these inside a cold, musty, Georgia prison cell. Or worse, shot and dead and lying on the side of a backwoods road while buzzards circled above and cars ocassionally zipped by like you were dead possum roadkill or something.

A cold fear swept through him as he stared speechlessly at the officer as he wrote the ticket, taking his time as if there were no other traffic on the road and Sonny was his one prized kill. As the minutes ticked on, Sonny became more and more apprehensive. Wondered if he would ever see Anne again. Finally, the officer lifted his head and gave Sonny an icy stare.

“What’s a nigger boy like you driving such a fast rig like this. It sure is fast, but is it hot as in hot wheel, hot?”

Sonny looked aghast. This couldn’t be happening to him. “No way officer, the rig belongs to my associate, Phillip Johnson. I’ve got the Title and all the requisite paperwork inside my glove compartment. Would you like to see for yourself?”

The officer stared at Sonny incredulously. “Well, my, we’ve got here a smart ass niggar who also knows how to read. Don’t show me no dumbass title. You best instead listen closely and read what I’m about to hand you – that is if you value your life.”

Sonny looked long and hard at the piece of paper in front of his eyes. $25 was the only figure that popped up, the only thing that caught his attention.

“But, you know what? Since you’re going back to DC, there’s no sense in me issuing this ticket today. Why don’t you just give me $50 cash right now and I’ll rip up this ticket to little bitty pieces. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll even mix it with my fresh Virginia tobacco and smoke it in my pipe. That way you don’t have to come back to God’s country just to show up for court. And you’ll be guaranteed not to spend a night in jail.”


Sonny sighed. “I’ll see how much I got.” He had fifty dollars! That was nearly all the money he had to his name.

Sonny reached for his wallet, counted up his money. Two fives, a ten and 10 singles -- “$25 is all I got to offer. Plus, I need a little money to top off the fuel tank and perhaps a cup of coffee and a sandwich.”
The officer looked at Sonny with indifference and suddenly noticed his bright, shiny watch. “Let me see that,” he yelled.
Sonny took off his watch and handed it reluctantly to the officer.
“Nice watch, I see it’s a Benrus, gold, waterproof.”
“Well it does tell time,” Sonny replied. “It’s 17 jewels and it’s taken me to over a dozen states and back without ever missing a beat. “



“I tell you what. Why don’t I keep this watch. I see it means a lot to you. When you get back to DC, send me the money and I’ll return the watch. That a deal?”
“But officer, this is my vintage Benrus,” Sonny pleaded. “It is a special gift from my mother when I joined the Army. It’s reliable and trustworthy and took me to muster on time throughout my tours at Ft Meade and Ft Bragg. Anything but my Benrus, officer, please.”



Did you serve in Korea?”






“No sir. I wanted to go, but I stayed home and trained others to go instead. I joined in 48, straight out of high school and got out in 53, after Truman gave everyone another year of service.”

“Well, I tell you what. I’ve never been nice to a nigger, but I do have respect for any man who serves our country and is willing to put his life on line for what this country stands for.”
The officer rubbed the face of the watch then rubbed his chin methodically. He silently admired the beautifully etched dial, the gold face with antique finish and the dark leather band.
“Alright Mister. You served my country. You paid your dues. You go home. But don’t let me ever catch you in this neck of the woods again unless you want to become a permanent resident of the jail house or you’re coming back to pay your dues.”
“Thank you very much sir. You've been extremely kind and gracious. God Bless You and your family! From the bottom of my heart, I sincerely appreciate you letting me go and also keep my prized watch.”



Sonny swore never to visit Warner Robbins again, even if he had to drive an extra 100 miles to return home. In the end, the officer appealed to patriotism and turned nominally sympathetic. But it was a close call and any option including going to locked up or getting shot up were distinct and real possibilities -- terrifying enough for Sonny to never ever come back.

Oklahoma City, OK, 1939, Courtesy of Wikipedia, Photograph by Russell Lee,



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Sonny Williams is the main character, protagonist and the primary reason why I chose to write this story. Through Sonny's lucid tales and narration, the readers are offered a candid synopsis of the history of Anacostia depicting how and to what extent the area dramatically declined and degenerated over the last 30 plus years. Towards the end of the story, we see vivid glimmers of a turnaround, but is it too late for Sonny and company to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

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