Evening star., 1938-01-23
A HHENEvER have a concert in WASH
n u ington, am not the great Negro
wv Baritone" ! am a lonely little
black bow, wandering about the


ders. always 60 past their old house, and the
syringas. where Claytie and used to play, have
grown rank and wild, the fine old pillars need
painting and there is furnished rooms sign
in the window of Miss Sally's drawing room
leone home to Washington, so the biboards
say, but am really coming home to that old
heartbreak, to that terrible night which little
boy had no right to understand, and yet some
how did.
s'There were some people here :. the
Burkwalders " said tentatively to my
manager the first time had Washington
concert.
"Oh, yes " he said, narrowing his eyes
to remember. "The woman went to prison,
didn't she .. ?"
II remember the name" said gently. 1T
happened when was little boy, living here.
Did she ever die in prison?" said casually.
Seems to me read ...'
Il don't know" he said. "She got lot of
years anyway
But she didn't die She didn't die and she
didn't forget, for tonight just before came
onto the stage, an usher brought me small
envelope.
Il suppose it would be too much to hope that
you are our little Sammy" the note said, and
it was signed with her name written in the
same old handwriting which is on the Christ
mas card have kept all these years.
ITO Sammy, and be a good boy" - the
Christmas card says
saw her in the audience, sitting tall and
slim, with her dark eyes excited, and her hair,
her long brown hair, white now She was the
same Miss Sally, gentle and sweet, who never
could harm anything living She was the same,
but of course not the same, for she had been IN
prison great many years for having killed
man.
Somehow sang; heard my voice swelling
through my body, sweeping across those silent
waiting listeners, on and on by itself, for had
left that hall, and had gone back to being little
eight-year- old boy living with the Burkwalders.
Claytie, had all sorts of other toys, but there
was one luxury his mother never would allow
him. That was temper. Claytie and would
play all morning, qua1eling and arguing as
children do, but at the first symptom of tenn
per, Miss Sally came out and stopped us.
Wherever she'd be, she'd hear him, if he was
angry. She'd come flying down from her bed
room, where she'd be sewing or buffing her long,
pearly fingernails; she'd put down her teacup
and excuse herself; she'd even wake up from her
afternoon nap and come running on her light
little feet out to the sycamore tree where Clay
tic was jumping up and down in tantrum.
A little ear in her mind seemed always to be
listening for Claytie's temper, no matter what
she was doing She never scolded him; she only
knelt down on his level, so his shamed, wrath
full eyes couldn't escape hers.
Nov, you know, Claytie, she'd say gently.
Even kaew knew that no matter what other
badness Claytie could enjoy, he was not to have
temper. Other people could be angry but
Clayte mustn't ever be-
"A temper always hurts somebody Mrs.
Burkwalder used to say to him brushing back
his hair with her cool hand, land most likely
it's somebody innocent who suffers, darling.
II want to be somebody innocent" Claytie
said, likin the sound of the long word, and
hoping to divert his mothers attention from
his immature wrath.
Il want you to be-" she'd say soothingly.
Innocent and gentle and patient"
My own mother would come to the door of
our kitchen, and call out freely with the privilege
of long service, "Um-hum, Miss Sally, at child
cerny has got mad! He's bad lax that, Claytie
is. He's pretty nearly as bad as his pappy.'