“So I guess no juicy part for me.”
“Well, if your interview makes the cut, then yes, you’ll be in it. We’ll come back and film you at that point. I’m just doing preliminary research now.”
“No, honey, I mean is this a paid engagement?”
“Oh, no, no it’s not. Limited budget.”
“Too bad. Not too many jobs ’round here, you see.”
“I expect not.”
“Not used to be that way.”
“Like when the hotel was open?”
Baldwin nodded and rocked slowly in the gathering breeze. The weather had turned chilly, and Michelle wished more for a hot cup of coffee than a glass of iced tea.
“Who you talked to so far?” When Michelle told her, Baldwin smiled and then chuckled. “Them gals have no clue, you understand me, no clue about nothing. Did little Miss Julie tell you she was there when Martin Luther King Jr. was shot?”
“Yes, she mentioned that. She actually looked a little young for that.?
??
“I’ll say. She knows Martin Luther King like I know the pope.”
“So what can you tell me about that day at the hotel?”
“A day like any other. Except we knew he was coming, of course. I mean Clyde Ritter. I knew about him, from the TV and all, and I read my newspaper, every day I do. The man’s thinking was more in line with George Wallace before he found the light, but he seemed to be doing okay, which tells you all you need to know about this country.” Then she stared at Michelle, a look of mirth in her eye. “Is your memory that good? Or maybe I ain’t saying nothing you think is important enough to write down.”
Michelle started and then pulled out a notepad and began scribbling. She also set a small recorder down on the table next to the woman. “Do you mind?”
“Hell no. Anybody sues me I ain’t got no money. See, that’s the poor person’s best insurance policy: no assets.”
“What were you doing that day?”
“Just like any other day, cleaning rooms.”
“Which floor did you have?”
“Floors. Always had people calling in sick. Most time I had two floors all by myself. Had it that day, second and third. By the time I finished, seemed like it was time to start over again.”
Michelle tensed at this. King had stayed on the third floor. “So you weren’t on the main floor when the shooting occurred?”
“Now, did I say that?”
Michelle looked confused. “But you said you were cleaning.”
“Is there a law against coming down and seeing what all the hoopla was about?”
“Were you in the room where the shooting happened?”
“I was right outside the door. There was a supply closet down that hall, and I had to get some things, you understand.” Michelle nodded. “Management didn’t like us maids to show ourselves in the main area, you see. Like they don’t want the guests to know we’re even there. Now, how do they think the place stays clean, you see my point?” Yes, Michelle said, she did. “Well, the room where Ritter was shot was called the Stonewall Jackson Room. It’s not like down here we have us any Abraham Lincoln or Ulysses S. Grant Rooms.”
“I can understand that.”
“Well, I poked my head in and I saw that man shaking hands and talking real slick and smooth and his eyes would hold anybody’s he was talking to. I read where he was a TV preacher too. I could see how that man could get dollars and votes, yes indeed. He just had that way. But from a person of color’s perspective I think Clyde Ritter was right at home in the Stonewall Jackson Room and was probably sleeping in the Jefferson Davis Penthouse Suite and loving that too, and damn if he was going to get my vote.”
“I can understand that too. Besides Ritter, did you notice anyone else?”