If He Hollers Let Him Go by Chester Himes Read Free Book Online

know,’ I said.
    His face got a swollen look and his eyes filled up. ‘I’m not going to have you or any other coloured boy in this department who can’t maintain a courteous and respectful manner toward the white men and women you have to work with,’ he said. His voice shook with anger. He unhooked his hands and shook his fist at me. ‘I’m not going to have it, goddamnit, that’s all!’
    ‘I’m not going to have nobody call me a nigger either,” I said. I wasn’t angry; I was just telling him.
    He was through with it. ‘You stay on through Saturday. Monday you start in as a mechanic.’ He jerked his head toward the fellow sitting at the end of the desk. ‘This is Dan Tebbel. Danny’s going to work with you this week and beginning Monday he takes your place.’
    I’d known Mac was going to give me hell; but I didn’t think he’d downgrade me and put a white boy in my place. I thought he’d be afraid of the coloured workers making trouble. It shocked me to find out he didn’t give a goddamn about the coloured workers, one way or the other. I looked at Tebbel sort of vacantly. He was a thin, undernourished man with a beaked nose, pale blue eyes, and reddish hair.
    But I didn’t really begin to feel it until Mac said, ‘You’ll lose your job deferment too. You’re a single boy and they’ll put you in 1A.’
    All of a sudden I got that crazy, scared feeling I’d waked up with that morning. It had happened in a second; my job was gone and I was facing the draft; like the Japanese getting pulled up by the roots. But I couldn’t find a thing to say in my defence. I had to say something, so I said, ‘What’s Tebbel going to do? My gang’s a Jim Crow gang. Maybe they won’t work for Tebbel.’
    Mac reddened. ‘That’s all, Bob,’ he said, dismissing me.
    ‘What about Ben for my job?’ I kept on; I couldn’t let it go like that. ‘He’s a college graduate—U.C.L.A. Just as smart as —’
    The phone rang. Mac picked it up. He wasn’t listening to me. I stood there for a moment, listening to him talk over the phone, not knowing what to do. When I should have challenged him was when he said, ‘Monday you start in as a mechanic.’ But I had let it pass. Now with the bastard not even listening it was too late to quit. I turned and walked off.
    Outside, I stood for a time, feeling cheated, trapped. I couldn’t decide whether I’d been a coward or a fool. I debated whether to go back and split him. I’d get a fine and some days, perhaps. Probably a sapping at police headquarters. I’d lose my car. I think that was what made me decide that my pride wasn’t worth it. My car was proof of something to me, a symbol. But at the time I didn’t analyse the feeling; I just knew I couldn’t lose my car even if I lost my job.
    The whistle blew for lunch but I couldn’t eat. The taste of bile was in my mouth, tart, brackish, bitter as gall. I wanted something to do with my hands, action. I began looking for a crap game. Finally I found one over between the plate racks. A dozen or so white fellows and two coloured were ringed on the concrete. There was money in the centre and two big green white-eyed dice were rolling.
    I took out six ones and a ten and two of the white fellows made room for me. A big, seamed-faced, bald-headed welder with gnarled hands was shooting eight bucks. I tossed in a ten to fade him and a thin, sallow-faced man gave me a cursing look.
    ‘He done hit me twice,’ he snarled in an Okie voice. ‘Think I’m gonna let you have him now?’
    I took down my ten. He took his time, counted out eight ones, tossed them in the pot. He kept grumbling under his breath. ‘Comin’ in here tryna bull de game.’ He gave me another hard, hostile look. ‘One of these slick guys, think you gonna grab the gravy. Goddamn smart—’ He was working himself up to call me a nigger and I figured I’d better stop him.
    ‘If you say another word I’ll knock your eyes out,’ I grated in a low