A Brownstone in Brooklyn

A Brownstone In Brooklyn chronicles the life-altering events that shape the future of Andy Michael Pilgrim, a young man growing up in the turbulent sixties.

                                   Chapter Six

Sister Love

From New Orleans she brought her distinctive personality to Brooklyn. Her friends called her Sister Love because she loved everything with passion. Her flavor spiced everything and everybody. She could also hate with passion. Her name was spontaneous, nobody put any thought in the name, and it just evolved. She was a passionate woman. Passion for her was love and love was her passion.

She knew every juicy incident that happened in the lives of everyone living in the four-hundred block of Gates Avenue. Some people said that as something unfolded, Sister Love was there recording every detail.

From her apartment window, which people called the “Eye That Knows All”, Sister Love observed her neighbors’ lives. She kept the big picture window clean so nothing cold diminish her view of the lives on Gates Avenue.

 Gates Avenue meandered through the middle of Bedford-Stuyvesant like a long strip of concrete ribbon that twisted and turned creating an avenue of change. Brownstones, separated by multiple story-reddish�"toned apartment buildings, bordered both sides of the street.

There were old-generation  Blacks left on the Four-Hundred block, who migrated in the forties and early fifties from the deep south, but now the northern-bred  sixties generation was transforming the residents’ static ideas in this Brooklyn neighborhood.

The four-story Brownstone at 423 Gates Avenue was located in the block where the Civil Rights movement, gangs and drugs were seeping into everyday existence. All these changes Sister Love noticed with a weary eye.

Sister Love reached for the window cleaning fluid. She sprayed the mist on the dirty window pane until the milky fluid formed droplets that rolled down the glass. She glanced back to see if Jon was awake.

“Get your lazy butt up and get ready to get outta here,” She continued wiping the window pane.

All morning she cleaned the apartment, the windows being last. Her eyes squinted in the sun as she watched Jesse Towns walk out the door and down Gates Avenue, “Keep walking you son-of-a…” She caught herself.  “Don’t look back or I’ll shoot you! You ain’t selling this building.” She hurried to get ready to catch the bus for her job at the A&S department store in downtown Brooklyn.

Sister Love walked to the kitchen and got a glass of water. She walked into the bedroom, threw the blanket off Jon and tossed the cold water in his face. “What the…” Jon leaned his body up, half asleep and put his bare feet on the cold wood floor.

“I said get up and outta here! If I have to work, then you’d better find some of your old cronies to be with because you ain’t staying in this apartment while I have to work that A&S lunch counter.” She walked back to the window and saw Towns enter the barbershop. As a nine-year old kid Towns was called a fidget, which was considered a half a midget. At 5-2, you don’t get much respect. When you look at Towns you see two ears sticking out from a head positioned a miniature frame. Now, he owned 423 and wanted to clean out the residents to make room for efficiency apartments. Towns was in deep thought. Towns rubbed his chin and pondered if I can’t make efficiency apartments, then I’ll sell to urban renewal and get rid of the problem and ease his money strapped condition. If only those urban renewal people hadn’t alerted the residents. Damn, I would’ve been free to do what I wanted with the building. Now, those families are getting so they hate me and sometimes I don’t want to go back to my basement office. That Pilgrim boy, Andy, knows too much. He’s s smart one. I could’ve sworn I heard him listening in on my conversation. Well, guess what, I’m going to make sure he doesn’t do that again. I’ve got a few surprises for him.  The Yellow Cab’s brakes squeaked, making a loud racket that brought him back to reality and caused Towns to search for the noise. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a pair of eyes staring from the second floor window. He thought I’d better get outta that crazy woman’s sight. Towns turned, walked toward the Hair is Art Barbershop. At the center of the block, next to Mr. Possum’s Candy Store and Yang’s Chinese Laundry, stood the barber shop where people talked politics and  who was sleeping with whom, the latest gambling daily number and the current news from the civil rights front. Steward’s Music Exchange stood at the corner of the block where you could buy the latest hit song on a 45 record and play your illegal daily number. The four-hundred block of Gates Avenue had everything from fast-food places, to places to find the body of a person before they went to their final resting place. People lived next to the two funeral homes, across the street from each other.without feeling squeamish. It was as natural as living next to the fish market, Chinese laundry or the candy store. Towns walked into the barbershop, just as James Randall turned the corner from Nostrand Avenue. Randall’s light-brown eyes were in stark contrast to his dark skin that seemed to come from all the time spent working under the hot sun in the tobacco fields of southern Virginia. His skin was in contrast to the light tint of his eyes. His eyes scanned the block to see if there was anybody watching as he walked toward the apartment. A scowl was a permanent fixture on his face. He grunted to Sister Love as she came out of the building. “Stop looking ugly,” Sister Love smiled at Randall, who unlocked the door to his apartment, almost slamming the door in her face. “And a good morning to you...” She greeted him as she was walking out the door. Sister Love learned from her common-law husband Jon, who is from Richmond, Virginia, that he suspected Randall of being the prime suspect in a murder case. Two men fought in a bar and Randall was the one still living. Sister Love made the walk to the bus stop, for the fifteen-minute wait for the B-52 bus. She passed the barber shop and gave Towns a dirty look. He pulled the newspaper in front of his face. She knew Towns had broken some laws involving taxes. He was in trouble and trying to get money to keep the government from taking the brownstone. If pushed, Towns knew she could call and get in put in jail. Sister Love’s light-brown skin and gray eyes gave her a look you found in the Creole’s of New Orleans. She still had a slight Louisiana accent. Today, she sported a brown wig, one of the many from her varied collection, which included a blonde, brunette and multi-colored. She never had much natural hair, so Sister Love always wore wigs. From her teenage years she developed her wig collection. Jon teased her about her wig collection and how she had enough of other people’s hair. She always yelled back, “I bought it, so it’s my hair.” Sister Love leaned against the bus pole. Al Green’s latest hit “How Can You Mend A Broken Heart” could be heard from the loud speakers outside Steward’s Music Exchange. She leaned forward to see if the bus was coming and there was a glimpse of it about three blocks down Gates toward Broadway. Then her gaze moved to the apartment building and thought that James is really worried about something and anything could set him off. Randall slid the backpack off his shoulder and onto the floor. He walked to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, then back went back to the living room and found a chair. He opened the beer and took a big gulp. The cool beer washed the grit down his throat. Cleaning the classrooms at Brooklyn Boys High all night and into the morning made him thirsty, but he knew better than to drink on the job, that was one of the reasons he left Virginia. At least the Richmond authorities didn’t know where he was hiding. This block, in the heart of Brooklyn, was a nice resting spot. He may have to move soon, but for now this was home. Randall slid into deep thought, I hope this deal with Peter Paterson works out, and if it does, I’ll have some big bucks and get out of Brooklyn. Randall stopped smiling when he lost one tooth on the left side of his mouth, from a fight, and one on the right side from an encounter with his girl friend’s fist. He wouldn’t be a smiley face model. He felt people were always looking at him to be critical. He felt if people couldn’t get close to him, then he didn’t have to reveal a lot about himself. Randall leaned further back in the chair, closed his eyes, but not his mind to his thoughts. Fear of discovery can make you do strange things. Sister Love found a comfortable seat in the middle of the bus, across from the exit door. As the B-52 bus headed downtown, she leaned back and watched the various city blocks pass. Towns waited his turn. He pulled his New York Daily News down from in front his face and watched as Sister Love3 got on the bus.  He figured Randall was in his apartment and after getting his haircut; he’d get in his car and drive to Jamaica, Queens. He didn’t want to stay in this area, because he thought living in Queens made him superior to these folks in Brooklyn.

---

Author's Note

"Sister Love" a character introduced in Chapter Six of A Brownstone in Brooklyn will capture your interest and then your heart!