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113 f o u r t e e n June 1965 two work-shirted youngsters placing colored pins in a wall map looked curiously at me as I entered the MFDP headquarters in Jackson. A third was talking excitedly into a phone. “Tractor drivers! Yeah. You’re sure they were tractor drivers? Great! We’ll check you later.” He scribbled on a pad and called across to the others. “Five tractor drivers in Indianola are out. Jesus!” As he hurried across the room to the map, the boy noticed me for the first time. “Can I help you?” he asked shortly. When I told him I was headed back to the Delta after being north almost a year, and was simply “reporting in,” he leaned against the battered desk and grinned. “You were here for the ‘long, hot summer,’ huh? Well, we don’t have the same security setup as last summer. It really isn’t necessary. If you’ve got Mississippi plates on your car, that’s enough. You should have no problems.” He handed me a form to fill out stating where I would be staying “for the records.” When I finished, I joined the three young men at the map. The area near Shaw held clusters of pins. Pins at Tribett, a few at Cleveland, a scattering of pins at Indianola. “What do they mean?” I asked. “Blue pins stand for cotton choppers,” one replied. “White pins for truck drivers, and red pins for tractor drivers who have walked off the plantations.” I stared at him. “What do you mean, ‘walked off’? On strike?” He nodded. “On strike.” He waved his hand at the Delta. “Almost a thousand of them. And it looks like it’s just starting.” “But are they organized? They’ll get clobbered if they’re not organized . Do they have a union?” 114   |   Return to the Delta He nodded again. “They organized it in Shaw. Months ago. Before the planting started. They call it the Mississippi Freedom Labor Union.” The week before I returned to the Delta, a hundred people, the families of members of the new union, had been thrown off the Andrews plantation in Washington County. The union members, who had twice before requested$1.25perhour,confrontedAndrewsatfivethirtyonthemorning of May 31, and informed him that they were striking. He had responded by summoning the police, ordering the families off the plantation, and dumping their household goods along the highway. It was the beginning of an unwinnable struggle that would continue in the months ahead. When I returned to Ruleville, I headed directly to Fannie Lou Hamer’s home. I knew that my old friend would be in the thick of this latest struggle. I found her sitting in the shade of the pecan tree in her front yard. Her face was wet and shining with perspiration, but she reached out and embraced me with a great hug. A grin lit her mahogany face, and she examined me at arm’s length. “Connecticut ain’t spoiled you much,” she said. “I’m real glad to see you here again!” She silently handed me the chilled bottle of water at her side. “You look like you can use this.” Almost a year had passed since last we sat together in Ruleville. The frame house seemed wearier, and she, too, seemed more melancholy than I remembered. Perhaps it was the contrast. Last summer this yard had echoed to the racket of young people. The screen door would bang against the warped frame, and Mrs. Hamer’s deep contralto voice would be calling out urgent organizing orders to the students, or impatient rallying calls to the neighbors. It seemed then that Dale Gronemeier’s typewriter was always clacking on the sagging porch, and the only phone was constantly ringing in the kitchen. Now we sat alone, and the house drowsed in the afternoon sun. Here in the deep shade of the pecan, the color of the zinnias was vibrant, mocking the painful white glare that shimmered in the quarter. I squinted at the heavy, damp figure of Mrs. Hamer. Her face in repose seemed sadder, and the lines between her heavy brows deeper than I recalled. I recognized Joe McDonald’s truck as it bumped its way up the rutted road, and a long brown arm waved from the dusty cab. Fannie Lou’s face lightened. She smiled and shouted a greeting. “Hi, Mr. Mac!” [3.145.15.205] Project MUSE (2024-04-25 06:53...

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