The manager seemed startled by my question. “Why? You know as well as I do the answer to that. You want to see this movie, you’ll have to move upstairs.”
Moe and I just sat there, staring straight ahead.
The manager’s voice rose. “Are you going to leave?”
Without turning to him, I repeated, “We paid to see this movie. We should be able to sit where we want.”
“Then you give me no choice,” said the manager. “I’ll have to call the police.” The manager left with the usher behind him. Murmuring rose throughout the theater.
Moe took my hand. “Cassie . . .”
“You’d better leave,” I said.
“I need to speak to Henry,” said Moe. “I’ll be right back.” Without giving me a chance to say anything else, Moe got up. I held the box of popcorn and my drink and gazed at the screen. The murmuring subsided and all grew quiet again, except for the action on the screen.
Moe did not come right back. He was gone so long I began to worry that maybe the police had already been called before the manager spoke to us and maybe they were arresting Moe. I hadn’t been afraid before. Now I was. This had been a stupid thing for me to do. I knew it. I already knew too what would happen if we sat here and so did Moe, yet he had come with me anyway. I figured I needed to go see about him, but before I made up my mind to do just that he came back and sat down beside me. The moviegoers took notice with renewed mutterings.
“What took you so long?” I whispered.
“Wanted to ask Henry to call his father. He already had.”
“Attorney Tate’s coming?”
“If there’s going to be trouble, maybe he can get us out of it.”
“They didn’t try to stop you from coming back in?”
“No,” Moe said. “They didn’t lay a hand on me. They’ve called the police.”
“Then you’d better go.”
“No.” He looked at me and again took my hand. “Not without you.”
As I looked at Moe I knew I needed to swallow my pride and not put Moe through this. He had too much to lose. I knew we had to leave, but still I sat there. I sat there too long. Light flooded the theater and the movie was stopped. The crowd reacted with a noisy swell, including a sudden rise of voices from the balcony. Heads turned as four men walked down the aisle toward Moe and me. The manager was one of the men, accompanied by two policemen. The fourth man was Stacey. The manager and the policemen stood back and it was Stacey who approached us. He stopped at our row, looked at me, and quietly said, “All right, Cassie, let’s go.”
I looked at Stacey, took a moment, then got up. So did Moe. “You call him?” I asked softly of Moe.
“Figured he was the only one who could talk sense to you.”
Moe stepped into the aisle and I followed, and together we left with Stacey. The manager and the police walked behind us. As we passed down the aisle, someone said, not in a shout, but loud enough to be heard, “Damn niggers! Think they can do anything they want!” I turned, but Stacey, not stopping and not turning, took me by the elbow and led me out. We stepped into the lobby and the lights dimmed behind us and the movie resumed. All was calm now. The moviegoers could see their film in peace.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Attorney Charles Tate stood at the far end of the lobby talking to two white police officers. Brenda and Henry stood apart from them, watching the group as Henry’s father did most of the talking. Other than the two groups, the lobby was deserted except for three people behind the concession counter, who looked on curiously as they awaited the next wave of moviegoers. The manager headed straight for Attorney Tate and the other policemen. The policemen who had escorted us into the lobby, after warning Moe and me not to leave, went with him. Stacey followed, joining Lawyer Tate and the police. Brenda and Henry joined Moe and me.
The police talked only a few minutes to Lawyer Tate and Stacey, then, with only a glance at Moe and me, left the building. Through the glass doors of the theater we could see them standing outside, but they did not get into their cars. Attorney Tate and Stacey came over to us. “Enjoy the movie?” asked Attorney Tate with all seriousness. Then he smiled and waved us toward the doors. “Come on,” he said, “we need to talk.”
The manager watched us leave.
Outside, Attorney Tate herded us down the street. I looked back. The police had not moved. “What about them?” I asked.
“My car’s around the corner,” said Lawyer Tate. “Just keep walking.” I glanced back once more as we rounded the corner. The police were still standing there. When we reached Attorney Tate’s car, he said, “Miss Logan, I understand you’re the instigator of all this.” He set his lawyer eyes on me and waited for me to respond.
“Well . . . I suppose I am.”
“Now, for my own understanding, I would like to know why you thought sitting down on the main floor of that theater was so important? Couldn’t you see the screen just as well from the balcony?”
“Probably better,” I admitted.
“Then what was so important about the main floor?”
I glanced at Stacey and Moe, then looked again at Lawyer Tate. I was finally getting a chance to explain myself. “It’s the principle of the thing, Mr. Tate. All my life, living in Mississippi, it was understood everything was separate. Up here, this was supposed to be like the promised land.”
The lawyer smiled. “And it’s not?”
“It’s a false promise, Mr. Tate. The signs aren’t there, but the rules are there just the same. I wanted to sit downstairs, just because I wanted to have the choice to do so.”
Lawyer Tate fixed his eyes on me. “And was it worth it?”
“Well, I didn’t get to see the movie.”
“None of us did,” grumbled Henry.
“You do understand,” said Attorney Tate, “if Henry hadn’t called me and if I did not have an ongoing working relationship with these white people, you two would most likely have been arrested. You do understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I understand.”
“I’ve worked with two of those particular officers before. As policemen go, they’re okay. They listen to reason, and they allowed your brother to go in to get you. They didn’t want a racial incident any more than we did. But you do something like this again, it might not turn out so well. Take seriously what I am saying to you, Cassie. You go up against the system again, you could wind up in jail. Is that clear to you?”
“It’s clear, Mr. Tate, but segregation is segregation, that’s the plain fact of the matter, and the fact that there are no signs still doesn’t make it right. It’s the same, with or without the signs.”