Ding, the bell rang as some more customers walked in the Johnson Café, the best eatery in Birmingham. I shouted at Mark the cook
“number 12 with a side of salad.” It was one o'clock, the busiest time of day in a bustling restaurant. I already had too many tables to wait for so two more hungry people were quite a bit of trouble. I saw a couple reading a newspaper headlined “1963 year of trouble” and yet it was only march. ”Miranda, 12 ’s ready”.
”Thanks Mark”. Just as the fifty year old man got his piping hot sandwich the trouble arrived.
Three Negro college students walked in. The room fell silent. I politely walked up to the group and asked them to leave, after they said no I figured that our manager Mr. Johnson would deal with it so I …show more content…
”We have Negroes in our restaurant, Johnson’s café ,and they’re not willing to leave.”
He understood and said he would come down right away.
After another wait with the only sound of cars whizzing past and Mark frying some bacon, the screech of rubber on tarmac shattered the room’s ominous silence. Two men in police attire walked in and approached the imposters,”If you do not leave the premise now you will be arrested” he boomed. Like I thought no one moved an inch, as if they didn’t know he existed. The girl asked me can I at least have a coke? The policemen pulled out their batons and started hitting.
The Negroes handled the pain much better than I would have. They braved through repeated kicking and nigger insults.Then, after eons of beating, the policemen got bored. They just hauled the profusely bruised people to their feet and slapped a pair of handcuffs on them. Then they just walked away; they joked and laughed like a couple of 15 year olds who just got released from school. As if nothing had happened.
The rest of the day went as normal, new cheery customers came asked for food, unaware of what had happened earlier that day. I got soda and thirsty teens slurped it right up naive and innocent. It continued in a sort of dreamlike state
“number 12 with a side of salad.” It was one o'clock, the busiest time of day in a bustling restaurant. I already had too many tables to wait for so two more hungry people were quite a bit of trouble. I saw a couple reading a newspaper headlined “1963 year of trouble” and yet it was only march. ”Miranda, 12 ’s ready”.
”Thanks Mark”. Just as the fifty year old man got his piping hot sandwich the trouble arrived.
Three Negro college students walked in. The room fell silent. I politely walked up to the group and asked them to leave, after they said no I figured that our manager Mr. Johnson would deal with it so I …show more content…
”We have Negroes in our restaurant, Johnson’s café ,and they’re not willing to leave.”
He understood and said he would come down right away.
After another wait with the only sound of cars whizzing past and Mark frying some bacon, the screech of rubber on tarmac shattered the room’s ominous silence. Two men in police attire walked in and approached the imposters,”If you do not leave the premise now you will be arrested” he boomed. Like I thought no one moved an inch, as if they didn’t know he existed. The girl asked me can I at least have a coke? The policemen pulled out their batons and started hitting.
The Negroes handled the pain much better than I would have. They braved through repeated kicking and nigger insults.Then, after eons of beating, the policemen got bored. They just hauled the profusely bruised people to their feet and slapped a pair of handcuffs on them. Then they just walked away; they joked and laughed like a couple of 15 year olds who just got released from school. As if nothing had happened.
The rest of the day went as normal, new cheery customers came asked for food, unaware of what had happened earlier that day. I got soda and thirsty teens slurped it right up naive and innocent. It continued in a sort of dreamlike state