The Black Fury

The Haves and the Have Nots

MY NAME IS JAMES

Before I was six years old I knew nothing of my old man, but I knew who he was soon as Ma pointed him out. Ya sort of couldn't miss the obvious clue, even if we didn't have the same features, which we did - "my handsome boys" Ma called us once on a picnic in Central Park around 1907.

Except of course he wasn't hers and the way the old man acted, the time he gave us, it was like I was barely his.

Still, ya gotta give Assembleyman Anthony "Blonde Tony" Marley credit where credit was due. Mebbe it was his ongoing lust for Ma (she had kept up her showgirl looks) or mebbe he really did love his oldest son ... I dunno. Fer years I went on that theory, even when I saw less n less of the guy.

Now I ain't sayin' it's all Tony's fault - the guy had a wife and a legit offspring, Robbie. Robert Marley, my lil brother, dark haired as his own mother, ya could see the Italian in Robbie. Me, they called me all sortsa names growin' up on the streets of New Jersey. The Swede, Yellow Kid, Whitey ... that last one stuck, an later I sorta owned it.

Platinum blonde Ma called it, just like my old man's ... so pale it verged on silver white hence the moniker. Trouble is, the first time Mrs Mary (born Maria) Marley laid eyes on ten year old James Whitfield with his mama's slender arms wrapped around my upper body, that was when things hit the fan.

It was the occasion of Tony's elevation to New Jersey Senator and the big man was giving a speech out by the Palisades. He was accompanied by Mary, fashionably but plainly dressed, her thighs and her waist thickening with childbirth and the passing of years. The kid was there too ... the only legitimate Marley child to survive past infancy. He was four years old then, my little brother. 

Ma had sneaked us inta the crowd ta see my "Pops" as she called him. Aside: on those nights Tony came visiting, after dispatching me off with some funny book, wooden soldier or other trinket, he quickly took a gigglin' Ma off ta her room. They called each other names in there - sweetheart, baby, sugarlips ... Ma'd always let out a shriek and through the walls I'd hear her yell "Swear ta gawd, Tony, ya gettin' more handsome every time." He'd reply "Ya ain't so bad yerself, sugarlips.' Then them other noises'd start n Ma's voice would go all breathy, calling him baby, or Oh Tony! Tony, honey! Then ohmigawd, ohmigawd! While the old man'd just make these grunts n groans ... I always covered my ears by this point.

Recently though, Tony was showin' up less n less an now more often than not, there were other kinds of shouts through the walls.

"Gawan, getta outta here n go back ta ya whores, ya bum ..." followed by ... "Tony ... Tony baby! I dint mean it. Swear ta gawd I dint mean nuthin by it, baby. Marla loves ya, Tony baby. Ya knows that, right?"

I'd hear his voice raised too, tellin her she was a fadin' pearl, how that was that ... credit to the old man though, he only ever knocked Ma around a few times, an that was when she got his goat.

My name was invoked back then too. "What about the boy! Ya can't leave us! Jimmy needs ya, Tony!" One time I was on the stoop when Tony came out, Ma was in her slip, her mascara runnin' and her arms tight round his legs - he literally dragged her with him when he went down the steps.

"Tony, baby! I'm sorry ... I won't sass ya again, Tony, swear ta gawd!"

Sometimes he'd get in his limo, door opened by the discreet driver. Other times he'd go back inside. One time he looked down at me and shook his head. "Kid, don't ..." He never finished.

Summer of 1910 we hadn't seen Tony for two months, but Ma had her plan - showin' up at his event had worked four years ago, same day I first set eyes on baby Robbie. It would work now.

Course, this was when Mary chose ta turn her attention on the crowd - she saw Tony see us n go pale - she saw Ma, dolled up in her Sunday best ... Stork Club best more like. And she looked direct at me ... she saw my mop of hair and she knew! 

That knowledge was ta have a profound effect on my life goin' forwards. Things was out in the open an Tony had ta fess up, acknowledge me an what he did.

Respect ta Mary, she never did like me, but slowly over time, bein' a decent woman, her rage gave way ta ... well, ya might call it a charitable urge, or a desire ta do right. Fer a time at least.

I had ta wait til two more years had passed, but change was on the horizon. I was gonna get a chance ta do something I'd dreamt of since that day in 1906. I was going ta meet my brother.

A dream come true ya might say.

But ya know what things are like with those who Have and those who can only look in from the outside, longing fer a time outta the cold.

An sometimes the cold feels that much more bitter, after a brief respite in the warm!

TBC