From the Tales of Saint Anthony, the Johnny Holiday Mysteries
These short stories follow the lives of people who populate the fictional city of Saint Anthony (Minneapolis, Minnesota), and make their appearance in the first Johnny Holiday novel, The...
Aaronsyre Lord was the lead valet at the National Hotel; he worked the mid-shift from late morning to early evening and spent his nights at the free Masonic Lodge on Franklin Avenue, between Hennepin and Dupont, on top of Lowry Hill.
His friends called him Jackie.
He worked six days a week in the hotel lobby, opening doors and carrying packages for wealthy people, while at the Scottish Rite Temple he was a leader of men, a Son of the Revolution and an advisor in high demand.
Jackie was a black man, as black as strong coffee.
He had the high cheekbones and straight hair that whispered of native blood. His family had been in Minnesota for more than two-hundred years, having arrived in the lake lands with the French when the land was still wild and free.
Jackie's grandmother was a Lakota woman, his grandfather had fought in the War Between the States. He was among those Minnesota Volunteers who helped put a decisive end to the conflict with victories at Bull Run, Antietam and the Battle of Gettysburg.
Like Jackie, his grandfather had been a leader of men, he was instrumental in negotiating the peace that ended the Lakota uprising and led to the recognition of the Lakota Confederacy as a sovereign nation, a free land for native peoples, north and west of the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers, west of the Minnesota and Red River valleys and north of the snake.
Nevertheless, as a black man in the United States, Jackie was treated like a a second-class citizen, even in Minnesota it was nearly impossible to get a fair shake.
However that might be, in the lodge Jackie was chief, he was the first among equals.
It was 5:00 in the morning when he left the temple and locked the door behind him; as usual he was the last man to leave.
Walking east from Lowry Hill on Franklin, Jackie had about a mile in front of him before he would get to his apartment in the square across the street from St. Steven's church.
He saw blind Arnie setting up his newsstand with the help of a tall young man who seemed vaguely familiar to him. He stopped at the paper shack with a nickel in his hand, picked up a paper and said "good morning" to the white-haired old man.
"Good morning Jackie," he replied.
He might only see Arnie at this hour once a month, but Arnie never failed to recognize him. Whether by the sound of his voice, the shuffle of his feet or by some other sixth sense, Arnie "knew" what was going on in the world around him, and he could talk at length about the headlines, about all the news of the day...more than what was in print; Arnie knew what was happening in the city, he was a living cipher, and sharp as a tack.
The tall fellow who took his nickel was dressed in a fairly decent suit, and though he smelled faintly of whiskey, his hands were steady.
There was a slight wobble in his knees.
He wasn't drunk but Jackie knew that he had been drinking.
Arnie introduced him as Johnny Holiday, proclaiming that the lad was his protégé at The Star, a writer who was about to take on a serious assignment for a significant patron.
It was clear to Jackie that Arnie was proud of him, and if he was good in Arnie's esteem, then he was likely a good person indeed.
He extended his hand, and they shook; Jackie looked him in the eye as they did, and could see that the Johnny was not as confident in himself as his friend was.
Jackie thought this spoke well of him too.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
