The Old Black Guy

Periodically I re-post this short, true story from my time in Norfolk. Today; with nothing better to post; is one of those times.

I entered the Steak and Eggs for a bite on a slow summer night. It was one of those sultry, sticky, Southern nights - like an old movie loaded with intrigue and suspense.

The restaurant was empty with the exception of the one guy working the counter and mopping the floor. There was also an elderly black man pacing up and down the aisle between the counter and the row of tables by the window.

I was working on the USNS Sirius during the day and driving the cab at night to ward off the boredom of Norfolk. Late at night I would go to the Steak and Eggs place located off Granby Street at the Greyhound Terminal for a bite to eat. The following events took place there one night in July.

I ordered my steak and eggs and noticed that the elderly black guy was really agitated, pacing up and down while opening and closing his fists. He was also talking to himself. He was dressed in the typical fashion for older black men of that time. Suit trousers pulled up high, almost to his chest and a white dress shirt with no jacket. On his wrist was one of those hospital bracelets that indicated he had just come from an emergency room or been released from the hospital after a stay.

His ranting was repetitive and consisted of one or two points- mainly that “Lord, Lord, I cain’t go home- no suh! They watching me- I tol’ dem I weren’t saying nuthin’- but Lord, Lord, they don’t believe me….” He was sweating profusely as he continued his pacing. The cook and I were beginning to get nervous.

Slipping from behind the counter the cook sidled over to the pay phone on the wall and I heard him call the police. The old man was too busy to notice this and kept on pacing and talking.

Within 3 minutes an unmarked car pulled up and 2 white men got out. They were dressed in suits- minus the jackets. They had what appeared to be some kind of walkie-talkie with them.

Walking up to the old man and with a nod to the cook and myself they addressed him, “Okay old man- time to go.” They put their hands on his shoulder and started to guide him to the door and their vehicle. The old man protested loudly, “I ain’t gonna say nutthin’- no sir- I swear!” The reply, delivered gently, in retrospect was chilling. “We know that old man, just come with us.” They steered him out into the parking lot and the waiting car.

It all seemed so natural- 2 detectives picking up this old man in response to a call from the cook…

As they loaded him into the car a marked Police cruiser pulled in and 2 uniformed cops entered the restaurant. “What’s the trouble?” they asked.

The cook and I exchanged horrified glances and began to yell, “Stop that car! Stop that car!” The 2 cops ran outside just as the unmarked car had pulled out of the parking lot and were stopping for the red light.

One cop ran toward the vehicle while the other got in the squad car. The driver of the unmarked vehicle took off through the red light with the cop car now in pursuit- lights and siren splitting the heavy air. The unmarked car headed straight for the tunnel to Portsmouth with the Norfolk Police car close behind. When they emerged from the tunnel in Portsmouth the unmarked car had vanished.

The police returned to the Steak and Eggs where they interviewed the cook and I. It was impossible for me to finish eating so I left and hit the streets for a couple of hours before returning the cab and heading back to ship.

The following evening I was watching the local news in the ships lounge when a story came on that chilled me to the bone.

“An elderly African-American man was found in Portsmouth this morning. He was pronounced dead at the scene. The body was located at the edge of the river near the entrance to the Portsmouth tunnel. No clues and no suspects have been located. Anyone with information on the identity of this man please contact the Portsmouth Police Department.”

Surrender at Yorktown - 1781

Unlike Vietnam; where we won just about every battle, but lost the war; the American Revolution was the complete opposite. We managed to lose almost every battle, and still win the War for Independence. There is a lesson in that. When people fight; on their own soil; for their own freedom; it is virtually impossible to beat them.

John Trumbull’s painting “Surrender at Yorktown” epitomizes the strength inherent in a just cause. Had the Americans lost the war, England would have faced a hostile colony for centuries; much in the same way that Indo-China was a “thorn in the side” to the Koreans, French and eventually the Americans who tried to rule it. But that’s another discussion.

The subject of this post is the surrender of the British at Yorktown in 1781. In spite of a lack of adequate provisions, George Washington was able to lead the Continental Army to a decisive victory over the British forces for the simple reason that they were fighting on “home turf”, for their families as well as their own futures.

In September, Lord Cornwallis had been reinforced with about 7,000 new troops in a last ditch effort to stamp out the revolutionaries. He took these troops to Yorktown, where he established a fort, hoping for relief from the British Navy, which never arrived.  Washington deployed more troops and artillery, with the result that by October; with the help of the French fleet, under the command of Admiral Compte de Grasse; Cornwallis found himself caught between the land forces of the Continental Army, and the French Navy; which had come to our aid through the efforts of Benjamin Franklin in Paris. Those vessels repelled the British fleet, keeping them from rescuing Lord Cornwallis and his men. With all hope of escape gone, he had no choice but to surrender.

The British, and the Germans fighting with them, were eventually forced from their fort under threat of further bombardment, and instructed to bring their colors with them. The British military band played "The World Turned Upside Down"; a popular song of the era; as a way of displaying their disbelief in their loss to the colonies. Cornwallis elected to remain indoors, rather than face his adversary in defeat. Even his second in command, General O’Hara, tried to surrender to the French rather than to the Americans, but he was rebuffed in this effort, leaving him no choice but to surrender to the Continental Army, thus recognizing the new nation it represented. This was the reason which compelled General Washington in his decision to have General O’Hara surrender his sword to General Lincoln instead of himself. He was merely returning the snub by Cornwallis.

So, the painting of the surrender is not exactly what many Americans think of it as being. That is not General Washington mounted on his horse accepting the sword of surrender. It is, rather, General Benjamin Lincoln who is extending his right hand toward that sword, which is not carried by Lord Cornwallis, but is borne by General O’Hara instead.

Depicted in Trumball’s painting, the British troops are in a line which extends into the background. The troops on the left are the French officers, mustered under the banner of the Bourbon family. To the right are the American officers with the flag of their new republic. In that group are the Marquis de Lafayette and Colonel Jonathan Trumbull, who is the brother of the artist who captured it all on canvas. General Washington is in the background, astride a brown horse, keeping an ever watchful eye on the events, just as he had guided the colonies to victory over the course of the war.

But, in spite of these proceedings, the war did not come to a formal end until sometime later, when the British and Americans signed the Treaty of Paris in 1783. The painting itself was not completed until 1820 and hangs in the Rotunda of the capitol in Washington, D.C. today.

"Grandma Moses" by Herself (1948)

I must confess to having been entirely ignorant on the subject of Grandma Moses until I found this old treasure in the “stacks” at the Mooresville Town Library. I had heard the name , but for some reason I have always associated it with being a slave narrative, of which I have read several. So, I just never got around to it until last week.

Imagine my surprise to find out that Grandma Moses was an elderly white woman who began to paint landscapes at the age of 80! Born in New York State in 1860, she recalls the Civil War, and her family’s move to Virginia after the war had ended. Her father worked at several different trades, including farming, and the author recalls all the hardships, and rewards, of that bygone era.

Candid in every respect, the manuscript was actually pieced together from several different interviews and magazine articles written by the author over the course of several decades. There is nothing written here which was not proof read by Grandma Moses, and her family, before its release.

What you get is an unpretentious look at a woman who worked hard for many years, raising 5 of the 10 children born to her. The other 5 died. The book serves as a window into a time when you didn’t name your kid right away; you first waited to see if it lived. With her nimble mind, and capable husband, the two forged out a living in Chicago, Upstate New York and even Virginia, which was her first love. Most of her paintings are evocations of life in her beloved Shenandoah Valley.

A very quick read, with full color illustrations of some her best known paintings, this book will introduce you to a unique American woman. That she was unafraid to completely change the course of her life at such a late age, and have such great impact upon the art scene; so far removed from the life she had lived; should serve as an inspiration to us all that it is possible to live your dream. You have only to discover what that dream is…

"Midnight Rising" by Tony Horwitz

The best way to begin a review of this book is to quote, as the author has at the beginning of Chapter 3, from Henry David Thoreau, who, in remarks contained in his "A Plea for Captain Brown", said that "He (John Brown) could not have been tried by a jury of his peers, because his peers did not exist." After reading this account of John Brown and his remarkable life, I could not agree more.

Most of us were taught a very simplistic version of the John Brown saga, almost all of what many of us know is contained in the lyrics of that famous song, "John Brown's Body". But there is so much more to the life of this man. He was, at times, what we would today call a manic-depressive. Indeed, some of his family members had been confined to asylums, and some had even committed suicide. Many people, even after a visit to Harper's Ferry, come away with the impression that John Brown was killed that day in October of 1859 when he stormed the Federal Armory there. He was wounded, and lived to face trial for treason, murder and inciting rebellion. He was found guilty within 2 weeks of the crimes for which he was accused. In that time he had 5 different lawyers.

Although mental problems ran in his family, John Brown was considered to be merely a fanatic, with views of grandiosity. In that sense, he was not legally insane. He had none of the hallucinations, or other problems which met the criteria for Virginia to judge him "non compos, or deranged", thus enabling him to avoid a trial for his crimes. He was found guilty and promptly hung.

This book gives the reader a fascinating look at the final year and a half leading to the Civil War. With such characters as Robert E. Lee, then a Union Colonel in charge of putting down the insurrection at Harper's Ferry, and Governor Wise, the author is able to paint a clear and unvarnished picture of one of the most compelling adventures to come out of the Abolitionist Movement.

In the aftermath of the attack, while he lay bleeding, and possibly dying from wounds received during the brief skirmish, John Brown, in great pain, parried with his interrogators, sparring with them, most times to a draw. Governor Wise proclaimed him "the gamest man I have ever met." Senator Mason, who was also present in the immediate aftermath of the fight, had the following exchange with the wounded man;

"How do you justify your actions?" queried the Senator. Brown replied, "I think, my friend you are guilty of a great wrong against God and Humanity. I say that without wishing to be offensive. It would be perfectly right for anyone to interfere with you, so far as to free those you willfully and wickedly hold in bondage. I do not say this insultingly."

Realizing that he would surely be hung for his crimes, he said, "You may dispose of me very easily; I am nearly disposed of now; but this question is to be settled - this Negro question I mean - the end of that is not yet."

In addition to exploring all the details of John Brown's early life, and his plans for the attack on Harper's Ferry, the author delves into the history of the "insanity" plea, which was just coming into its own in American criminal justice. Only months before John Brown's trial began, New York Congressman Daniel Sickles shot his wife’s lover in Washington, DC. He argued, successfully, that he was deranged at the moment of the shooting. He was found not guilty.

This is not the story we were all fed in grammar school. It is, at once, an account of the incident, and attendant crime, as well as a look into ourselves as a people, and our history as a nation. In his essay "Civil Disobedience", Henry David Thoreau pondered these questions; "Is it possible that an individual may be right and a government wrong? .....Are laws to be enforced simply because they are made?" These are pertinent questions, even today.

The Ghost Fleets

This is one of the "Ghost Fleets" which are scattered about the United States. They consist of older naval ships in need of extensive repair, and in some cases, modernization of the operating systems aboard them. My old ship, the USS Milwaukee, was part of the ghost fleet in the James River until it was sold for scrap and dismantled about 2 years ago.

The Ghost Fleet pictured above, which is administered by the U.S. Maritime Administration, sits off Fort Eustis in Newport News, Virginia, right across from the Norfolk Naval Station, which is where the USS Milwaukee was homeported during my time aboard her. It was begun in 1919, after the hostilities of the First World War were over, and the troops shipped home. With so many ships idled there was nothing else to do but "mothball" them for future use, or sale as scrap. Some of those ships were used in the earliest days of the Second World War, when the United States was supplying the British with the materials of war under the "Lend Lease Act." We were actually buying time until we could build newer ships of our own to ferry men and supplies to Europe. England, with the aid of the Ghost Fleet, bought us that time.

By the end of World War Two, when the problem of too many ships presented itself once again, the Ghost Fleet numbered well over 700 ships. And that was just in Virginia! There were other Ghost Fleets, most memorably for me the one near Philadelphia, which my parents took us to see when I was about 10 years old.

During the Korean War some of the ships were actually used in atomic bomb testing in the Pacific. Others were used for target practice, which, once sunk, were turned into artificial reefs. Some of the other vessels were sold for scrap, while in 1964, 120 of the old Liberty Ships became "silos" for the surplus wheat our government had bought as a means of price control.

When Vietnam became a major conflict some of the older ships were pressed back into service for a bit before being sold off. By the end of the war there were only about 300 ships left. Today there are only 23 of these vessels left, nested together in groups of 2 and 3. Since 2001, more than 800 ships have been sold to keep pace with the goal of getting rid of the ones that leaked, or were about to start leaking, oil and PCB's into the James River. Obviously, that goal has been met.

I'm not sure how I feel about the demise of the Ghost Fleets. The past is always present, and history repeats itself much too often for my tastes. If it were up to me these ships would have remained in place, with appropriate maintenance to ensure their avalability in the future, should the need arise. But then again, there are "experts" who know more about this than I. I just read a lot of history. And of course, I'm not that objective, I just really loved those old ships.

Photo coutesy of kitsune @

http://www.kitsune.addr.com/