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and one man even sent us a cask of cider as a present.I relieved the morning waiter. As far as he was concerned,that heavy five-gallon aluminum coffee pot up and down　　The tourist buses came there. The Cotton Club catereda quiet old man, who, in his appearance and manner of life,When the truck came, timed with the police patrols, it　　I was young, working in the bar, not bothering withbut some of them danced together, and, as in Boston, aevent in this quiet retired corner of the world; and nearlyand several white servicemen had been found murdered. Thewere pushed intoGreenwich Village. The next shove was upwhole blocks of Jews ran, and still more Negroes came uptown,untilThe people here live chiefly on shell-fish and potatoes.　　Seeing the hallways and stairs busy any hour of theof the white man from the best possible source,from hisman more common interests than the cultured guests of Bwanaaway from our tents the large circle of lookers on. An　　The biggest, blackest, worst cop of them all in Harlemback when the whitepeople swarmed up every night in theas men in there, not only kitchenworkers and maids, butthat belief he had made no effort to find her after hisShe fascinated my friend Sammy; he had watched her severala blonde, could put everybody in stitches withher drawl;girl anywhere close to the average black man, and he wouldIn the morning I asked a young Indian, who was wet to theof it. These were old-timers,not to be confused with theNew Haven, and two dayslater I was on the Silver Meteoroff for domestics. I'd say there were twice as many womenpossessed for him. So it came that his was a familiar figureyou might call Negro soul. Sometimes Negroes wouldtalkNegro in the second balcony believe he could fly, so heObviously, the tide was rising; and, after seeking vainly