![]() ![]() ![]() Louis catches him with a short left to the jaw.”Ī tide of murmuring assent poured out the doors and into the yard. The contender is hanging on, now he’s backing away. “The referee is moving in to break them up, but Louis finally pushed the contender away and it’s an uppercut to the chin. Some bitter comedian on the porch said, “That white man don’t mind hugging that niggah now, I betcha.” “They’re in a clench, Louis is trying to fight his way out.” One of the listeners cackled like a hen and was quieted. “A left to the head and a right and another left.” “He gone whip him till that white boy call him Momma.”Īt last the talking was finished and the string-along songs about razor blades were over and the fight began. ![]() Joe’s gonna whip that cracker like it’s open season.” The apprehensive mood was shot through with shafts of gaiety, as a black sky is streaked with lightning. Small children and babies perched on every lap available and men leaned on the shelves or on each other. Women sat on kitchen chairs, dining-room chairs, stools and upturned wooden boxes. Uncle Willie had turned the radio up to its last notch so that youngsters on the porch wouldn’t miss a word. The last inch of space was filled, yet people continued to wedge themselves along the walls of the Store. ![]()
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