Living in the Middle

Chapter 3: The Letter

The LetterOnce outside, Jimmy raised his hand, but Benjy pulled it down. “We ain’t taking no taxi all the way uptown. This way.” They turned the corner and descended the stairs into the subway—a new experience for Jimmy. The two men found places to stand a few feet apart on the packed rush-hour train and Jimmy lost his balance when the car departed with a jolt. He fell into an older Black woman standing at his side. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Benjy called out, “You too large to be falling on people. Hold on tight.”

The woman raised her eyebrows after hearing Benjy’s tone and whispered, “He didn’t mean nothing by that, young man. Just grab ahold like this.”

They exited at 125th Street and walked the few blocks to Benjy’s two-bedroom apartment. People gawked at the oversized White boy walking next to their neighbor. The greetings were numerous and consistent.

“Evening, Benjamin.”

“How are you, Mr. Benjamin?”

“Pleasant evening to you, Benjamin.”

Benjy shook a few hands as they made their way to the apartment.

“My son’s bedroom has been empty for a long time. You can stay there. Check it out first and come back here so we can talk.” Jimmy found his school trunk against the wall and his other possessions in the dresser or closet. He rushed back to the kitchen. “Why are all of my things in your son’s room like I’ve been here for years? What’s going on?”

“Sit, Jimmy. Your dad wanted to explain all of this himself.” Benjamin pointed to an envelope sitting prominently on the table. “I helped him put it together. Open it and have a peek at the date in the upper left-hand corner. Your father wrote this two years ago. He wanted to tell you then, but you didn’t seem curious at all, so he decided to wait until you graduated high school. Read the letter.”

Jimmy sat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table and stirred his coffee as he began to read.

March 1913

Dear Jimmy,

I dedicated the last sixteen years of my life to making sure you had the best chance for happiness and a successful future, but before I write about you, I need to start with me.

I wanted for nothing as a child. My family stopped working two generations ago. In school, I developed a love for music and the arts in general and, as an adult, I dedicated my time to those activities. I also had a weakness for women and, to be fair, I must admit I spent a bit of time in the pursuit of feminine company. My father gave me a generous allowance every month and I lived without any financial concerns.

When my father passed, I was in charge of the estate and after settling all debts, I realized my sense of wealth was a sham. Our income was insufficient for our expenses, so we took out loans and sold property to keep up appearances and stay within the higher echelons of New York society. Our supposed millions were reduced to a grand total of $30,000, a sum to be sure, but nowhere near what I expected.

I had the finest of educations and considered myself to be an intelligent man. In my estimation, the proper investment of this $30,000 might restore me to financial health. I ventured out to Tulsa, Oklahoma, in 1896 to become an oil prospector. I didn’t realize I was being swindled at the time and lost all my money plus what I borrowed from one of my father’s old New York connections, Chester Van Kleve.

During my time in Tulsa, I rented a house downtown and hired a local woman by the name of Gloria (she liked to be called Glory) to help keep order. She was about ten years younger than my thirty-eight years and such a beautiful light-skinned woman. We began innocently enough with cleaning and chitchat. Things progressed to cooking and, of course, I couldn’t eat alone. Soon after that Glory joined me in bed and I fell in love with her. After a few months, you were on the way.

Around the same time your mother became pregnant, I realized I’d been cheated, but I took several months to tell Mr. Van Kleve I wouldn’t be able to repay the debt right away. He telegrammed me with news—he planned to come out to Tulsa for a conversation.

Your mother was about to give birth any day. Tulsa in 1897 was no place for a White man and a Colored women to start a life together—we both came to that realization, but we did seriously discuss the possibility. In the end, we concluded that the world wasn’t ready for mixed marriages.

Chester Van Kleve arrived in Tulsa soon after his telegram and said he appreciated the financial troubles of my family and wanted to work with me to ensure the longevity and value of the Montgomery name. He got right to the point and explained he was willing to forgive the loan and bring me into his business, which would provide me with income for life, if I married his daughter, Dorothy. At the age of forty, she needed to settle down as well. The rules of New York society would bless the union of a Montgomery and a Van Kleve. Mr. Van Kleve actually told me my name still had value, not financial, but social. I accepted his proposition and let him publicly announce the engagement.

You were born a few days after this meeting and when Glory and I saw your light skin color, we both had the same thought: we knew you could pass. Glory was heartbroken at the prospect of letting go, but she made your welfare the priority.

Mr. Van Kleve was boxed into a corner after the announcement and appalled at my poor judgment and self-control. After giving it some thought, he agreed to proceed with the arrangement. As punishment for my deception, I would never be in charge of the finances. The family fortune would always be controlled by his daughter and whether you would ever inherit anything would be her choice. I think Dorothy hated me from the beginning and her hatred increased with time. We went on a yearlong trip after the marriage ceremony and stopped in Tulsa to pick you up before returning to New York as a newlywed couple with a child. No one knew the truth and we kept the secret all these years.

Dorothy never displayed any affection for you, but you seemed oblivious to it all. I hope you make arrangements to meet your real mother one day. I’ve written to her over the years and sent her updates and pictures. I’m sorry it took so long to tell you all of this. It was time for you to know.

Dad

Jimmy paused and took several sips of his coffee before resting the paper on the table. He picked up a napkin to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I see why he waited.”

“Didn’t you ever suspect anything?”

“I guess I haven’t been as inquisitive as I should have been. Just busy being a kid.”

“Fine, but now it is time to be a man. I’m the closest thing to family you have and I want to help. You can stay here or you can get your own apartment. I’d like you to stay, Jimmy, for lots of reasons, but it’s your decision. You’ll be with Mrs. Montgomery at the funeral over the weekend, then you won’t see her much, if at all. I’ll be the go-between moving forward.”

“Thanks. I would like to stay. I really appreciate all the help, Benjamin.”

“Ah, so you noticed that no one in the whole city, other than the Montgomerys, call me Benjy. This is a good step—you’re starting to pay attention. Now let’s get some dinner and some rest.”

Jimmy watched Benjamin as he prepared a simple meal of chicken and potatoes, and reflected on how his entire life had been disrupted during the course of one action-packed day. He looked down at the letter and wondered if his father and mother had made the right decision. Their plan provided him with everything he could want, but he had never felt maternal love and, with the passing of his father, he had nothing. The familiar sounds of Benjamin’s pan clanking made him smile and question his last conclusion.

Chapter 4