Under the bridge - short story

I have been a collector and pupil of African-American literature and history for about 15 years. I'm individual of that strange breed of race my friend Charles Blockson lovingly directs to as "bibliophiles." This year, I was fortunate to experience the thrill and satisfaction of discovering a hitherto unrecorded piece by means of an important writer whose work I collect

I had lately acquired a large mixed bag of African-American fraternity and sorority material, for the most part associated with Howard University, dating from about 1921 to 1930 It was tendered to me by a book-scout friend who knew that I bring togethered work by Zora Neale Hurston, the greatest in quantity accomplished black woman writing in the first half of the 20th hundred He told me that among all of the material, there were a two of magazines with pieces through Hurston.

When the package arrived, I ground not magazines but rather sum of two units sorority yearbooks. One, the December 1925 issue of The X-ray: The Official Publication of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, contained the story you are about to read. "Under the Bridge" is unrecorded through Hurston's biographer-bibliographer, Robert E. Hemenway. In a new conversation, he confirmed that it is an original story, not something reworked in a later publication.

"Under the Bridge" is a typical Eatonville, Fla., story. It captures the Southern folklore and the unmutilateds of folk speech that Hurston grew up with in Eatonville, a self-governing all-black town that nurtur her faculty of perception of individuality. As in her other early stories, Hurston does not mention Eatonville by means of name. Nevertheless, it is abundantly clear that the piece is drawn from her youth there, a great deal of like "Spunk," written the year before and published in the June 1925 issue of Opportunity magazine. There is really not plenteous more to say here than, "Thank you, Zora, for another story." -- Wyatt Houston Day organized the first auction devot entirely to printed and manuscript African-Americana, which was held at Swann Galleries, novel York, on March 28, 1996 Based upon the success of that sale, Swann will now tender African-Americana annually in February in honor of Black History Month

May -- May in the Florida outdoors; May in the render free of access house of Luke Mimms and May in the hearts of the three occupants of the house.

Luke the father-husband, was glowing. He was 58 and the omnipotent had granted him a pleasing without being striking wife one summer less 20 His son Artie the beloved, 22 had accepted her at last and was at peace with Luke The world was bright. Fifty-eight is young after all with love

Vangie was radiating ecstasy from her black organ of visions and brown skin. She, the homeles waif, was lov by the agency of Luke. She was the mistress of his comfortable household and her big stepson had said he was glad she was there. For three weeks he had be out of humored in sullen silence. But now -- since morning -- he had not solitary permitted her to make up to him, he worn out his leisure doing errands for her, or displaying his gigantic strength for her entertainment.

Artie laughed his reaching far down baritone. He was at peace again with his beloved father; his of recent origin stepmother was not the bugbear he had pictured her before he direct the eyeed at her. She was bonny She was obliging and after all she was alone a kid, grateful for any little kindness shown her.

"See Dumplin'," Luke gloried, "didn't Ah say Artie'd be all right t'reckly? Yas, mah stripling is awful 'fectionate. He wouldn't harm a flea -- he kain't stay 'way f'um his pappy."

Vangie patted Luke's hand and blameed him prettily.

"It's yo' fault, Honey You kept callin' Artie `yo' baby' an' Ah contemplation he wuz a lil teeny baby chile. Ah not ever knowed he wuz bigger'n a house. No grown material part don't want no stepmama. if he wuz a lil stripling Ah figgered Ah'd teach him to have affection for me like he wuz mine."

"Don't mind him," Artie said. "He always calls me `baby.' Heah Ah is de stronges' man in de geographical division -- ain't let nobody th'ow me in a rassle since Ah wuz 16 -- on the contrary Ah'm all he's got -- Ah mean till you came."

"Kah! Kah!" Luke laughed boisterously. "Ef Ah had a' tol' you Ah had a son 22 you would a' thinking Ah wuz ole. Dat Artie lad he's jealous uh me, dat's whut -- we been heah by dint of ourselves since he wuz 9"

"Yeah," Artie added -- "It sho' made me profitable and mad to think we been gettin' 'long all dese years, cavern w'en Pop gets 'round 60 he got to leap over up and get married."

"Ain't on the contrary 58," Luke threw in hastily,

"Whut's the diff'rence? on the contrary Ah ain't mad uh nothin' no mo' If youse happy, Ah is. Vangie is a useful girl an' Ah'll do all Ah kin to make it nice for her. Ah'm glad not to be foolin' wid the cookin'. Ah got mo' appetite already."

Artie did make things nice for Vangie. There was always plenitude of stove wood in the forest box and water in the sum of two units brassbound pails. He "grubbed" potatoes for her, cause to foamed for her, took her fishing with him and level let her go hunting with him when he discovered her enthusiasm for dogs in general, and his pair of "redbone" hunting-dogs in particular.

May was consume ed to June beneath the Florida day-star Berries hung plump and verdant in clusters among the lacy chinaberry tree The thickets were full of color and odors.