The Sundisk

The Sundisk

Copyright © 2005 by Gail Logan

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CONTENTS

Foreword

Introductory Note Regarding

Colonel James Churchward

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Endnotes

Illustration Credits

Bibliography

About the Author

I would like to thank author Toni Leland,

and agent Debbie Fine for their support

and my brother George M. Logan

for his encouragement during the

preparation of this manuscript.

In memory of my parents:

Harold S. Logan

And

Marjorie D. Logan

1 John 2:9-10

He that saith he is in the

light and hateth his brother,

is in darkness even until now.

He that loveth his brother

abideth in the light, and there

is none occasion of stumbling in him.

Foreword

The writings of James Churchward are the inspiration for The Sundisk. Churchward spent the better part of his lifetime looking for Mu. It became an emotional and spiritual quest for him, but the place eluded him.

The characters of my novel are on a quest for this mythical lost utopia. They represent my quest, too, for this lost world where Eden-like splendor melds with the grandeur of a golden age. Through their quest for the forgotten island, a remnant of the fabulous continent of Mu, my characters reach deep within themselves to make a spiritual discovery of the place.

Although my novel does not attempt to do justice to the life work of a man like Churchward, my novel suggests that the fabulous lost continent may emerge again, when men mend their differences and live in peace with themselves, and respect the beauty of the natural world.

Gail Logan

January 2005

Introductory Note Regarding

Colonel James Churchward

Colonel James Churchward, who served with the British Army in India for thirty years, was in Western Tibet in 1883 and also in the eighties, was a member of an expedition to Mongolia and to Siberia. After he retired from the army, he spent considerable time in the field in the West in this country, and in Mexico and Central America before settling down near New York to work on his books.1

As Churchward presents his thesis that there was at one time a continent, now submerged in the Pacific—not the Lemuria adopted by the Theosophists but instead…Mu, you must also accept the possibility that what we think of the Garden of Eden was not located in the Valley of the Euphrates but instead in the selfsame Mu, ‘The Motherland of Man’. The evidence is conclusive: After extensive examination and study of tablets shown to him by a Rishi in a remote Indian monastery, and after he further corroborates this research with the study and examination of other ancient documents found elsewhere in the world, Churchward makes a persuasive case in his books for his interpretation of what may indeed have happened in the long gone past. What is needed in considering what he wrote, is both Faith and imagination, and also perhaps a Sense of Wonder not commonly found among those who find it disturbing enough to think of history in terms of hundreds of thousands of years but dismiss as impossible the suggestion that ours is not the ultimate civilization and that we have in fact all been down this road once before or more than once.2

From the foregoing, it is clear that Churchward did not accept the geological theory of a glacial period, which he considered to be a theory in opposition to all natural laws. He considered this last magnetic cataclysm to be the same as the Biblical ‘flood’. And the aftermath? To quote James Churchward ’Our orchardtrees with branches breaking down with fruit, our profusion of vegetables, our galaxy of flowers, and our fields of golden grain, were only made possible by this great preparation for the earth’s surface, a kindly provision made by nature for the benefit of future man. The last magnetic cataclysm was the great coping stone placed upon the house prepared for man by the great Creator.’3

Chapter 1

It was a cold rainy evening in February 1962 in rural Twiggs County, near Macon, Georgia. Two friends and colleagues from a local university, Tom Daudelier and Harry Worthy, both professional archeologists, sat by a warm fire in the living room of Tom’s farmhouse. Harry, the younger of the men, an independently wealthy Texas who’d inherited a fortune from his father’s oil empire, reached into his briefcase and produced a strange jade artifact he’d recently bought at auction in New York. Tom, who was smoking a pipe, placed it in an ashtray and leaned forward in his chair to get a better look at what Harry showed him. The delicately carved sculptured jade piece was a lotus blossom entwined with a serpent, and bore hieroglyphic inscriptions.

It was found near the prehistoric Tiahuanaco site in Bolivia, said Harry, casually handing over the artifact to his friend in the manner of a lonely man used to lending valuable objects to the few he trusted.

By contrast, Tom, a lonely widower who lived in genteel poverty with his young and eligible daughter, Jaime, accepted the opulent piece as if Harry had entrusted him with more than a valuable artifact. He gently ran his hand over the beautiful carving.

Harry said, The piece is designated Incan in origin.

Tom quickly glanced up at Harry and said, I don’t think the piece is Incan. I believe it to have predated the Incas’ arrival in the area by many thousands of years.

Tom squinted as he tried to make out the faded hieroglyphics. Usually reticent before others, Tom was ready to take a bold initiative. Harry was one of the few people Tom trusted, yet Harry was reserved and outwardly cautious inexpressing his own opinions about controversial topics. Like Tom, Harry secretly searched for a lost land, as depicted in the writings of the late James Churchward. In the late nineteenth century, Churchward had been shown strange tablets and maps in an Indian monastery near the Himalaya Mountains. The tablets documented the existence of the Pacific continent Mu, which flourished thousands of years ago alongside the Atlantic Ocean’s Atlantis. According to temple records, both lands were destroyed by earthquakes about 11,500 to 12,000 years ago.4

Tiahuanaco is a very ancient city, said Tom, drawing on his pipe. Even archeologists who don’t accept the validity of Churchward’s writing agree on that point. Since the artifact was found at the Tiahuanaco site, one might also assume that the artifact, like the site itself, is very old. Assuming that Churchward is correct in believing Tiahuanaco is connected with Mu, might one also assume that the artifact, like Tiahuanaco, might offer clues as to where Mu’s remnants might be found?

Harry didn’t answer, and Tom continued.

At the time ofMu’s colonization of it about 16,000 years ago, Tiahuanaco’s artificial canals, which Indian temple maps clearly showed, connected it with an inland sea. Today, that sea is nothing more than a great river, the Amazon. The ancient sea also flowed into the Atlantic Ocean. Since in ancient times, Tiahuan-aco was situated near the Pacific Ocean, the city must have been an important port. Ships from Mu, passing to and from Atlantis and beyond, perhaps as far away as Egypt and Asia Minor, would have come to Tiahuanaco. The sculptured piece you’ve shown me has symbols on it that are similar to those inscribed upon the ‘Gate of the Sun’ at Tiahuanaco.

Did I hear you correctly when you said the artifact was connected with the monolith, and possibly Mu? interrupted Harry.

Yes, said Tom, "the Tiahuanaco monolith is appropriately named the ‘Gate of the Sun.’ The sun was the symbol for Mu.

Harry turned his back on Tom momentarily, as if he were standing in an empty room and hadn’t heard a word his friend had said.

Tom continued talking. Before the mountains were raised, Tiahuanaco was the gateway to Mu.5

He drew on his pipe. Harry was about to say something in reply, but was interrupted when Jaime, a tall, slender, pretty redhead, entered the room and carried a tray. She set the tray on the table, and poured coffee for the two men.

She became distracted when she glanced up at Harry. Her glance then moved from Harry to the strange artifact in her father’s hands.

Oh, let me have a look at it, please, she said, taking the piece from her father.

She held the sculpture in front of the firelight, then turned to Harry. In an almost breathless voice, she said, It’s very strange and beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it before.

Nor have I, said Tom, taking the artifact back from Jaime’s hand.

Jaime’s gaze returned to Harry. She shyly circled his chair and, with a playful flick of the dishtowel she carried, said, I have to help Lillie clean up the kitchen. Those graduate students of yours really made a mess before they left this evening. The dishes are piled high in the sink. Care to help us out?

Harry grinned, with a mild look of self-satisfaction to think that Jaime would actually miss including him in the task of kitchen duty. He would never admit it, but he enjoyed the after-dinner routine with Lillie and Jaime, almost as much as he did Lillie’s delicious Saturday night suppers and the discussions that went with them.

He gave Tom an embarrassed tap on the shoulder. I must be going. I’ve got some early classes next week and I need to catch up on my sleep.

Jaime felt a pang of disappointment. She was used to Harry staying awhile to talk and laugh with her and Lillie. Tom wondered what he’d said that had brought the evening to such an abrupt end. He showed Harry to the door as Jaime returned to the kitchen.

Harry had to leave early, she said as Lillie put away some dishes in the cupboard.

Lillie turned and told Jaime there were scraps from dinner for Cookie, Jaime’s black Lab. The dog, lying under the kitchen table anticipated a handout, and wagged her tail slightly as Jaime got her bowl. Cookie wolfed down the bits of meat with gusto, licked her bowl clean, went over to Jaime and nuzzled her gently, as if to say Thank you.

Ain’t like Mr. Harry to rush off so early on a Saturday evening, said Lillie.

Jaime scratched the dog’s ears, and her heart sank at the suggestion that Harry might have something important to do, or someone more important to see than them.

Jaime was no fool. She knew Harry was handsome, rich, and important. She also knew he was lonely and had made her home his home. Like her father, Harry struggled to remain connected with the outward world, but had found himself slipping away from the reality which brought stability and sanity to his life. The serious young man who’d graduated from Princeton less than ten years earlier was haunted by his dreams of discovering a lost civilization. It was the world

Churchward had seen through the eyes of the old Rishi in the Indian monastery, so many years earlier. Tom was becoming Harry’s Rishi. Harry needed Tom. Discoveries could be made under Tom’s direction. As for Tom, he saw Harry as a man who could make things happen. An expedition could be launched, research done, and the end to a career made brilliant, with Harry’s financial backing. Jaime knew that Harry had recognized her father’s increasing isolation from life and from others. The prospect of becoming a man like Tom had frightened

Harry, and Jaime sensed it.

* * * *

Lillie put a comforting arm around the girl’s shoulder, and said, I know when you’re sad, Child. Ever since before your Mama died, I could tell when you were going through bad times. I think you’re lonesome. Being without your Mama all these years hasn’t made things any easier for you and your daddy.

Lillie Joyner knew that neither Tom nor Jaime had ever gotten over the loss of a wife and mother to a tragic automobile accident. The rooms she’d decorated, and the curtains she’d made, were constant reminders. Lillie took it upon herself to ease the Daudelier’s burden. She cared for Jaime when she was sick, and stopped by the Daudelier home on weekends, just to make certain there was enough cooked food in the house, and that everything was neat and orderly. Lillie also knew that Jaime had a secret crush on Harry, although the girl would say not so when Lillie teased her about it. And so, it was with a certain air of transparent personal knowledge that Lillie was able to maneuver herself so deftly through the Daudelier’s sometimes complicated world.

Mr. Harry’s a good friend, said Lillie, who looked at Jaime, who appeared on the verge of tears. Listen, Child, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with letting a fellow know you find him nice, especially if he makes you feel good, she said, as she reached for her tote bag.

Goodnight, called Jaime, watching Lillie head out the door for her car.

Jaime was followed by Cookie into the living room to fetch the tray and carafe. She stared down at the almost-uneaten piece of chocolate cake that Harry had left in his haste to leave. Jaime plumped up a chair cushion, then returned the tray to the kitchen. She rinsed the few remaining dishes, placed them in the cupboard turned out the light, and left the room. Cookie followed at her heels as Jaime made her way across the hardwood floor toward her father’s closed office door. Inside, she knew he sat alone in the semi-darkness.

Goodnight, she whispered, staring at the door. She hesitated a moment before she climbed the stairs which led to her room. She thought of the many sleepless nights her father had spent, alone at his desk. She knew it was no use to coax him to go up to his room and get some sleep. Tom’s office was a haven from the world, and Jaime knew it.

Cookie usually liked to spend the evenings outside in the yard or in the barn, but tonight, as if she sensed Jaime’s need for her, the dog chose to remain inside with her. She settled herself on a rug at the foot of Jaime’s bed as the girl washed up, changed into night clothes, turned off the light, and settled into bed.

The sounds of the rain beating on the roof had subsided and, outside, the air was still and quiet, and the moon cast its pale reflection on the bedroom floor as Jaime drifted off to sleep.

Below Jaime’s room, Tom painstakingly examined the artifact that Harry had left behind. He studied the piece from every possible angle. Finally, he fell asleep at his desk, his hand still clutching the artifact. He had a strange dream, but it was more than a dream really. It was as if the walls of the room had disappeared and he’d stepped back into another world. Before him lay a lush countryside, where flowers and trees grew abundantly. Colorful birds of every imaginable species flew overhead, or darted into leafy tree branches and thick brush. Evidence of human life was prominent here, too. It was if Tom had stepped into another time and dimension. Pyramidal structures and temples appeared in the distance. Opposite these structures stood a city and a plain with a river that meandered to the sea. Tom wanted to walk through the scene that enveloped him. Instead, the vision slowly disappeared.

The dream lasted only a few minutes, but it seemed much longer. It was as if the professor had traveled somewhere, while, in truth, he’d never left his desk or the room in which he sat. When he awoke, he still clutched the strange artifact in his hand. He glanced down at his desk. On a piece of paper lying there was the translation he’d made from the artifact’s inscription: The serpent coils in the sun where Mother Earth opens to the sea. Tom was puzzled by what he’d written., The words made no sense at all. The translation conveyed no sense of direction, only the vague hope of finding something quite lost.

He rose from his desk and went to the window where first light was beginning to envelope the sky, bringing on a strange purple hue as the sun rose higher, and daylight replaced the darkness of night’s vigil. Tom felt strangely rejuvenated as he gazed at the morning sky. A new day, a new beginning heralded hope for this weary, beleaguered man who saw his unfulfilled dreams slipping away from him as each day passed. He turned from the window and returned to the desk, wherehis gaze fell once more on the strange and beautiful sculpture. He picked it up and held it before setting it down on a corner of the desk where the early morning light touched it, and made the carving appear almost transparent.

Tom said nothing about the artifact’s translation to Harry, who was busy teaching undergraduate classes in natural history at the university, and didn’t ask. As for the dream, Tom found it unsettling, but passed it off as something that had happened as a result of overwork and fatigue. Questions about the strange artifact haunted him day and night. Was the artifact part of a puzzle, the solving of which might lead to proof that Mu once existed?

The idea was outrageous. Who would believe him? Certainly not Tom’s colleagues in the archeology department at Morton University. They already found him a little strange, slighting him at social events, laughing at him from behind his back, and referring to him as the man from Mu among themselves.

Even Harry now had seemed embarrassed and skeptical. After he’d given Tom the jade artifact to study, he’d behaved as if the whole idea regarding the artifact’s connection with Mu must simply be an outrageous figment of Tom’s overactive imagination.

For awhile, Harry avoided Tom. He ignored him in the faculty cafeteria at lunchtime, and begged off any conversations with him, saying he had papers to grade, or other obligations to fulfill. Tom wasn’t fooled by Harry’s behavior. The reception he was getting wasn’t unlike the freeze Tom had felt after he’d published the paper dealing with the migration of ancient people to America.

Tom had maintained that certain Indian tribes had come to America over the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and had not used the Bering Land Bridge.6 Since Tom’s paper on the subject was not well received by his colleagues at the time, seven years ago to be precise, Tom had simply disappeared for several years. He’d taken his wife and child with him to the Society Islands, where he lived and worked as a caretaker on a copra plantation situated on an atoll about eighty miles from Tahiti. The small plantation became a refuge from the world. Nature’s closeness made him reflect upon his existence, and that of the entire world. The small volcanic island, so vulnerable to the winds and rains that beat upon it, was a place of enormous beauty. The clarity of sea and sky, and the movement of sea creatures struggling for life in the iridescent lagoon waters, showed him how fleeting life could be.

Tom thought nothing was more important to man’s well-being than nature. The grandeur of great cities, or the achievement of technology, none of it mattered as much as preserving the beauty of God’s creation. How easily it could be erased, either by man’s arrogance, or by nature itself, perhaps in revenge forman’s pretense in thinking that his creation was more important than the one that already existed.

* * * *

After several weeks, the jade artifact still sat on Tom’s desk at home. Harry hadn’t bothered to stop by and collect the piece, and Tom was too proud to tell Harry about the translation he’d made from the inscription. Susan, Tom’s wife of nearly twenty years, would have known how to handle the situation. He could almost hear her talking to him as he bent over his desk: Tom, you are much too proud and sensitive. Harry has always been a good and loyal friend to you. Why don’t you call him and invite him over for supper? Tom really missed Susan. She’d always been there for him when he felt alone and isolated from others, and her sense of humor at faculty gatherings had made the slights less noticeable. With her gone now, things were different. Never an extrovert, Tom retreated more than ever into his inner shell, and engrossed himself in his work and study. Thank God, Jaime has her mother’s sense of humor and personality, he thought.

Lillie, and especially Jaime, missed the noisy weekends when Harry would bring a group of his student friends with him. He would talk about archeological digs he’d joined in various parts of the world. Some anecdotes were humorous, such as the time a howler monkey at the Tikal site in Guatemala had made off with his outdoor lunch.

He also told of more serious times, when excavation work at Tikal had to be halted because revolutionaries made work in the area too dangerous. Yes, those were the good evenings, spent with friends in front of a comfortable fire.

Tom also had a few stories of his own to tell, and nothing delighted Jaime more than to see her father’s face light up as he told them.

He stopped thinking about the past, and returned to grading papers.

At that moment, Jaime burst into the room and said, Harry’s here!

Harry followed Jaime into her father’s study. He’d been feeling guilty about the way he’d ignored his friend after their last meeting.

I hope you don’t mind my stopping by at such short notice. I was in the area and thought I’d drop by for a visit.

Not at all, said Tom, rising from his desk and extending a hand in greeting.

He picked his pipe up from his desk and knocked it against the wastebasket. The late afternoon sun streamed in from the window behind him, and created a welcoming sense of warmth as he adjusted the window shades.

Good to see you, Harry, he said, and moved back to his desk and picked up the artifact. We’ve missed you lately.

Jaime smiled at Harry, and left the room, leaving the door ajar so she could hear what the two men had to say. Harry began the conversation by apologizing for neglecting to stop by earlier.

I’m afraid I’ve been rather busy grading student term papers and assignments, he said.

Tom motioned Harry to sit down in a chair opposite him. Once seated, Harry asked Tom if he’d made any sense of the hieroglyphic writing on the artifact.

I did, was the reply. But, I’m not going to tell you what I came up with, at least not yet.

Tom then handed the carving back to Harry. Staying for dinner? Lillie made a pecan pie today. As usual, she cooked enough for several days, too. What do you say?

Don’t mind if I do, said Harry, feeling a little offended and disappointed.

Why can’t Tom be a little less reluctant to let me in on what he’s gleanedform the artifact? It can’t be that important, he thought.

Jaime had already set three places at the table, seating her father at the head, and herself and Harry opposite each other. Lillie had left for the day, and wasn’tthere to supervise the meal, or to dish out the delicious pecan pie for dessert.

* * * *

Lillie’s son, Edgar, had picked up his mother earlier to take her to a civil rights meeting at a nearby church in Macon. Edgar’s father had died several years ago, and Edgar, who was about eighteen, had recently decided he wanted to become a lawyer and become involved in the Civil Rights Movement. He wanted his mother to become involved in civil rights, too. Edgar had seen his father work as a janitor at Morton University for many years and, although the university had paid his father generously and was sympathetic to African Americans, speaking up for them, often against discrimination, that was not enough. Like many young Blacks in Middle Georgia and elsewhere, Edgar wanted something better. More-house College, the all-Black college he attended in Atlanta, was a rallying ground for change. Among some of the prominent speakers for civil rights, whom Edgar had come to know and listen to, was a man known as the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. His father, Daddy King, as he was affectionately called, had often been a guest speaker at a local church in Macon. It was to that church that Edgar took his mother for the meeting.

Local Black community leaders in Macon wanted change for themselves and their children in many ways. They wanted not just integrated schools, but basic privileges, such as being able to sit anywhere on a city bus. Since Blacks were forced to sit in the back on all city buses, that day’s meeting involved a planning strategy, which would change that restriction. When Lillie and Edgar entered the church, the meeting was already underway. Lillie and Edgar sat in pews across from Pastor Fowler as he spoke.

Brothers and Sisters, now is the time for change.

One man in the crowd shouted, Amen, Reverend!

Thank you, Brother, he replied. I know you folks are going to support our bus demonstration next Thursday.

Many local Black women had to work outside the home, mostly as domestics, and the bus was their only form of transportation. Lillie lived in Gray, about ten miles from Macon, and she had a car, a late model one, but it got her to and from places.

You’re going to join us aren’t you, Mama? said Edgar softly.

Fowler overheard what Edgar said and he smiled at Lillie, but she didn’t smile back. Instead, she tugged at Edgar’s arm and told him she wanted to leave.

The reverend saw it. Aren’t you two staying for refreshments? he asked.

Not tonight, replied Lillie as she and Edgar headed for the door.

See you at the demonstration next Thursday, said Reverend Fowler as they hurried past him.

Lillie didn’t say anything to Edgar until they’d left the church, but, once they were inside her car and driving home, she gave Edgar an earful.

Edgar, you know I work for them white folks, the Daudeliers. You must know the professor has problems. You may not know it, but he ain’t too popular at the university where he teaches. If I take part in that bus demonstration next Thursday, the university might think he had a hand in it, and fire him.

Mama, you know that’s silly. The university isn’t going to care if you take part in a bus demonstration, and the professor isn’t either. The university is open-minded about civil rights.

Yes, she said. I agree. They are also dependent upon financial support from a lot of white folks around here who ain’t. Edgar, Honey, I don’t want to change the subject, but I wish you’d go back to wanting to become a park ranger, instead of a lawyer. I know you think lawyering is a good profession, but a lot of white folks, and I don’t mean all of them, Honey, are bent out of shape these days about civil rights. You don’t want to have to run for cover. It’s smart to work atsomething safe these days. If your daddy were alive, God rest his soul, he’d say the same thing.

The law and civil rights go hand in hand. That’s where all the action is, protested Edgar.

Lillie didn’t reply, she just stared defiantly straight ahead as they drove.

Look, said Edgar, If you’re feeling so worried about everything, let’s drop by the professor’s house and ask him what he thinks.

Alright, said Lillie, Let’s do that.

Harry had just left when Lillie and Edgar drove up the driveway of the Daude-lier home. Lillie didn’t wait for Edgar to open the door for her, she just got out of the car, walked up the porch steps to the house and knocked on the door. Edgar stood just behind his mother, and waited patiently for the professor to come to the door. The porch light came on and Tom opened the door for them.

I hope you don’t mind us coming by so late, said Lillie.

Not at all. Won’t you come inside? invited Tom. What can I do for you?

Edgar and I need to ask your advice about something.

I was working late in my office and was just making some coffee. Won’t you both sit down and we can talk? replied Tom.

Lillie and Edgar sat down at the kitchen table while Tom poured three cups of coffee, and then sat down, too. Lillie took a sip, then set her cup down before telling Tom that she’d be taking part in a civil rights demonstration in a couple of days and, that since she worked for him, she wanted him to know about it.

You don’t need to tell me about that, he said.

But I do, said Lillie. I want you to tell Edgar that it’s a bad idea for us to demonstrate. I’m only doing it because Edgar wants me to.

Tom took a sip of coffee and studied Lillie’s face before he said anything.

What’s the real reason you’re telling me this? he asked.

Edgar answered, Mama doesn’t want me to become a civil rights lawyer. She says it’s too dangerous.

"Do you think it’s too dangerous?" asked Tom.

No, but I know Mama has never given up on the idea of me becoming a park ranger.

Tom smiled and took a sip of coffee. Haven’t you always wanted to be a park ranger?

Ever since Edgar had been a young boy, he’d loved animals and the outdoors. Ever since Tom had helped the boy win a summer scholarship to study natural history in British Honduras, Edgar’s dream had been to study biological scienceand to become a park ranger. With the Civil Rights Movement in full swing, apparently, his career plans had taken a sudden change of direction.

If you’re sure you’re not being caught up in the emotional pull of the times, said Tom, I’d say go to law school and become a lawyer. It’s your life and you have to choose what you want to do with it. Your mother just wants you to be happy and to do the right thing.

With that, the subject was closed. Lillie thanked Tom for his advice, and she and Edgar got up to leave. Tom watched them drive off. He then closed the door and switched off the porch light. Removing a pipe from his jacket pocket, he sat down at the kitchen table. Tom lit his pipe and thought how strange Lillie’s visit had been. Why should she want his advice regarding her son’s career plans? Tom thought of the time Edgar had helped him excavate an archeological site near Eatonton. The boy had done a pretty good job, and Tom remembered telling Lillie so. Could it be that Lillie found his work so worthwhile that she wanted her son to do likewise? He rinsed the coffee cups, turned out the kitchen light, and headed down the hall toward his study.

Jaime called to her father from the living room. Harry forgot to take the artifact with him.

Tom smiled, and thought to himself, Harry probably thinks I still need to come up with a translation for it. He can wait. Everyone, including Harry, needs to practice patience.

* * * *

Thursday afternoon, the day of the planned civil rights bus demonstration, arrived almost without notice. The sky was clear, the air cool and crisp, and the pear and tulip trees on Mulberry Street bloomed in profusion. The little group had met at the church, and now waited patiently at the bus stop.

Edgar shuffled nervously while his mother told the group, I know this is a bad idea. It will only land us in a lot of hot water.

Reverend Fowler looked at her and said, Have a little faith of a grain of mustard seed. Change and integration must come to middle Georgia, as it does everywhere these days.

That’s fine, Reverend, she replied, You can go and board them white folk’s buses, and sit at their lunch counters, if you want, but I’m going.

Please, Mama, said Edgar, taking his mother’s arm, Don’t leave. And stop making a scene!

Just as Edgar got his words out, an empty bus rounded the corner of Cherry Street and made its first stop in front of them. Lillie took a deep breath as Edgar tightened his hold on her arm. Reverend Fowler and the church deacons preceded them, and stopped to put their change in the bus meter, before seating themselves up front, as planned. Lillie and Edgar followed behind them and did the same. Just as they settled themselves in seats opposite Reverend Fowler, the white bus driver said, You folks are going to have to move to the back.

We aren’t moving, said Fowler.

Lillie and Edgar listened to the conversation, but said nothing.

A moment later, Lillie whispered in Edgar’s ear. I told you this was a bad idea.

Mama, please, not now, said Edgar.

The bus driver leaned out the bus window and flagged down a passing city police car.

The officer got out of the car. Is anything wrong?

Yes, replied the bus driver. These black folks refuse to move to the back of the bus where they belong. I warned them, but they wouldn’t listen to me. I want you to arrest them.

The policeman’s white partner stood behind his co-worker, listening.

Let’s cuff these black folks, he said, And take them to City Hall to jail.

A second squad car arrived on the scene.

An officer began cuffing Reverend Fowler, then forced him into one of the waiting squad cars.

You can’t take us to jail, said Fowler. We’re free citizens with equal rights, the same as white folks. We can sit anywhere we want on a city bus.

Oh, no you can’t, said the cop. According to a city ordinance, we can arrest Blacks for not moving to the rear of a bus.

In the meantime, the other officer tried to handcuff Lillie. She resisted arrest, hitting him over the head with her pocketbook. Edgar grabbed his mother’s arm.

As the two squad cars pulled away from the curb, Reverend Fowler shouted, I have a right to a lawyer!

That’s right, said the hand-cuffed deacons sitting next to the reverend.

As for Edgar, he said nothing to anyone. His face told it all, a look of total horror and disbelief.

Once the group arrived at City Hall, Lillie was in tears, and Edgar tried to console her.

Honestly, Mama, I didn’t know this would happen. None of us did.

Well, I did, said Lillie. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen.

What are we going to do now? asked Edgar, turning to Reverend Fowler, who just shook his head.

Lillie said, We need to call a lawyer.

That’s right, agreed the deacons, but none of them could decide whom to call.

Edgar thought of something. Mama, why don’t we ask permission to use the phone so you can call Professor Daudelier? Maybe he could help us.

Lillie wiped her eyes and blew her nose. I hate to get him involved, but I suppose it’s our only hope. I sure don’t know no lawyers.

Edgar called across the room to the desk sergeant’s secretary, who was busy painting her nails in between talking with her boyfriend on the phone.

Please, Miss, my mother needs to call her employer and explain to him why she won’t be showing up for work today.

The secretary was blonde, pretty, and twenty. She looked up from painting her nails, and then put her boyfriend on hold for a moment.

I’ll have to ask my boss.

Edgar looked at Reverend Fowler and took a deep breath. Nobody, not even Lillie, said anything until the secretary returned.

Okay, your mother can make one call, but she can’t stay on the phone long. We have a lot of incoming calls.

Edgar asked the secretary if the handcuffs could be removed from Lillie’s wrists while she talked on the phone. The desk sergeant had come into the room, and the girl looked at him and asked the same question. He nodded in approval.

I just hope the professor’s home, said Lillie.

The phone rang several times before Tom answered, and Lillie told him what had happened.

You’re where? he asked.

At City Hall, she replied. They’re gonna put us in jail unless someone does something right away, Mr. Daudelier.

Tom listened to Lillie while trying to think of an idea that would set her and her companions free. Tell Edgar and everybody with you not to worry. I’ve got a few phone calls to make. You won’t go to jail, he said.

Lillie hung up the phone, thanked the desk sergeant and his secretary for allowing her to make the call, and returned to her seat next to Edgar. Reverend Fowler’s head was bowed in prayer, and Lillie closed her eyes to do likewise.

* * * *

After Tom finished talking to Lillie, he called an old friend. Bob Collins was a lawyer in Macon, and served on Macon’s city council. He and Tom had gone to high school together. Tom told his friend how Lillie and those with her were at City Hall, waited to be jailed for taking part in a bus demonstration. Bob said he wasn’t sure what he could do, other than to call the mayor