UNDERGRADUATE PAGE

Coloured Boys-

By OLIVER JACKMAN (Magdalene College, Cambridge) TEY, bud ! "

Turning in the direction of this incisive trans- atlantic greeting, I half expected to see some flashily dressed gum-chewing bop-addict of the English variety; instead, I was confronted by the genuine article—the real McCoy—in the persons of three negroes wearing American Air Force uniform. After -introductions all round we began talking, and I learned that Alvin was from New York. Dex, who spoke so softly was from Philadelphia, and Hal (the silent) from Virginia.

" You in school here ? " asked Dex.

Yes, I was at school here, and I was " majoring " in law. This brought a wistful look to Dees eyes, but did not seem to find favour with Alvin and Hal, who asked where they could have " some real fun." I thought their question over carefully, and doubtfully suggested one or two pubs, with the reservation that in a small town like this the wishes of visitors were catered for -only in so far as they coincided with those of the students.

Alvin seemed to have been struck with an idea. He turned to me and said, " Say, Oliver, do you live near-by ? "

" Yes," I replied, " just a few hundred yards away." " Look, man." Dexter took me by the shoulder in a confidential man- ner. " Whaddya say we buy ourselves a bottle of-something good, and take it back to your place ? If you've got some records we could have ourselves a nice little ball."

" Aw, come on Alvin," cut in Dex. " We can't just hoist ourselves down on the man like this. Suppose he's got exams or something ? "

" Or a chick waiting in his room," added Hal, without a trace of humour in his voice.

I protested my utter freedom from all commitments, official or otherwise, and insisted that they were very welcome. Soon we were on our way through the narrow gas-lit streets of the town, stopping once -while my guests-to-be admired the drape (and approved the price) of some suits in a shop-window. Dex and I were walking ahead of the other two when suddenly we noticed that they had stopped and seemed to be having an _argument of some sort.

" Nobody's gonna say that to me and get away with it," Hal was saying with quite unusual vehemence, while Alvin was trying to calm him down. " Take it easy, Hal," he was saying. " You can't fight everybody." " Ill fight that bastard any time, specially now," replied Hal fiercely. We tried to discover what had happened, but Hal would say only, " Come on. Let's get along and get the drink."

I was extremely curious, the more so since I imagined that some of Hal's new truculence was aimed at me, but I could learn nothing. Alvin was saying nothing, either, because Hal had asked him not to, or because he was impressed by the sudden intensity the latter had shown. Whatever the cause of the outburst, it certainly acquired a certain significance from the grim silence with which its origin was guarded.

As we walked along, Dex told me of his life in the States, of his light-skinned grandmother who had come from North Carolina in the first decade of the century, who told him that he was an " uppity nigger " when he first mentioned his ambi- tion of going to college. She had deplored, too, the unfortunate fact that he was so dark, and looked no different from the ordinary niggers who hung around the saloon. At this point our conversation was interrupted by Alvin, who asked whether he should stop at the pub we•were then passing to 4S, -buy the drink. We had a conference to which Hal's sole contribution was his insistence that the expense should be theirs only; after which Hal and Alvin entered the pub while Dex and I continued talking outside. I was just giving the classic explanation of the invariable unattractiveness of the undergraduettes we had seen during our walk, wfien Dex's laugh was cut short by an even louder laugh from the heletofore grim Hal. He seemed to be almost stagger- ing out of the pub laughing loudly and with perhaps a touch of hysteria in his voice. Alvin was laughing too, but more restrainedly, and concentrating on trying to calm Hal for the second time that night.

" What's the matter, Hal ? " asked Dex, himself overcome with involuntary laughter. " What's killing you, man ? " had joined in the laughter, although I didn't know what it was all about, but the mere sight of Hal leaning against the wall of the pub laughing convulsively and uncontrollably was enough to oust considerations of reasonableness. It was the sort of laughter that is genuinely infectious; it even arrested the interest of two staid old ladies waiting for a bus near-by, and their faces creased into reluctant smiles. Hal was recover- ing slowly; Dex and I were now irresistibly curious, and Alvin began to explain.

"Remember when Hal blew his top up the street awhile ago ? " We certainly did. " Well, we were walking along chatting, and a coupla guys looking like stateside hicks pass us, and one of them says, Hiya, darkie ! ' Well, I didn't like it, but I wasn't worried. But Hal ! Gee, you saw how he blew up ! He wanted to bust the character one. Well we go into this pub, and the barman is real nice; he helps us with the money, and while we're waiting for the change a coupla old guys talk to us real nice. We were feeling really good again, and even -Hal says quiet to me that these limeys are all right. Well, we get ready to leave, and everybody says goodnight to us, the barman says thanks for the tip but that we don't need to give him one; everybody's smiling and saying goodnight, and when we reach the door one of the friendly old guys says, Goodnight darkie ! ' Can you beat that ? '

We walked back to my room all four abreast, and I tried to explain that most people in Cambridge didn't look twice at a negro; they had got accustomed to seeing them over a number of years. I told them of an African I knew who shared a room in college with an English student without causing many raised eyebrows. They thought this quite remarkable, although Dex conceded that he-was once friendly with two white boys at his high school, but one of them was the son of a strong union man so that perhaps he didn't count.

In my room we found a friend of mine who is normally very cynical and forthrightly Lancashire. He immediately took to Alvin, who had been restored to his normal perkiness by his first drink, and was talking with unabashed animation about his conquests and potential conquests on both sides of the Atlantic. Hal was calm and silent again, playing records and drinking neat gin with every sign of contentment. Dex and I chatted, or rather I encouraged him to talk about him- self. He told me more about Philadelphia and about the grandmother who was the most positive personality at home.

" You know," he said, " in a way I hate her, although it was she who persuaded Grandad to come up North. In fact, she practically dragged him up there ! She is really a character, that old dame. Even now she always nags him, and says she should never have married a no-good nigger like him, when she could have had a real light-skinned husband."

" Are you married ? " I asked him.

" Sure," he said, " and she is real cute. She's lighter than you or me."

" You know, Oliver," cut in Hal thickly from his corner by the radio, " there's only one thing worse than marrying a vV woman.'[ "What's that Hal ? " I asked him with a smile.

" It's marrying a coloured girl who is lighter than yourself," he replied.

" But my mother's lighter-skinned than my father," I said. " Let the dead bury their dead," he quoted with drunken sententiousness. " Don't forget it, coloured boy," he added as he slumped into his chair. • " I won't, coloured boy," I replied rather more distinctly.