“I graduated high school in May 1937 with a full academic scholarship to study English literature at Spelman College. For the first time in my life, I would be independent, including financially. Sheriff Ortega was sad I would leave but tried to hide it. He said he would drive me to Atlanta in the fall, that he had never been to Atlanta. Summer crawled along. We still read together, and we both knew our relationship was proceeding to a different chapter. I heard him say to himself a few times that it was good he taught me Portuguese, because I wouldn’t find that at Spelman.
Then we got to July 20, and that’s when it all happened. That evening, I had supper with Sheriff Ortega as usual. Funny thing, I can’t remember what we had. But it was summer, so we probably had fresh tomatoes, butter beans, and white rice with butter. Back in those days people ate everything with butter. That’s why they call them butter beans. But what we had that day is just a guess.
“Most black people who served white people would stand to the side of the table while people ate, probably wearing a white apron, and waiting for their next serving duty. But from the time me and my mother moved in, Sheriff Ortega would not have any of that. He insisted that we all eat at the table together and he wouldn’t start until we all sat down. I don’t think we ever said grace including when my mother and Mrs. Ortega were alive, even though all four of us were well-versed in the Bible. From a young age I saw the Bible as a historical book or a literary work, and it never had a religious impact on me.
“While I was clearing the table, Sheriff Ortega said he had police business later that night but to please go ahead and go to bed early and get some rest. He said it was possible that he would have a breakfast meeting in the morning and said if I were able to make my famous biscuits, eggs, grits, and coffee, that would be great.
“I slept soundly and as usual woke up around six when it was still dark. The sheriff’s car was gone, and I decided I would wait until he came back to cook so the food would be hot and fresh, but I did prepare the biscuit dough in advance and had all the eggs, grits, and coffee ready to go.
“At about seven o’clock Sheriff Ortega was back, and soon after I think three other cars pulled up. Some men came into the kitchen, and I served coffee while I started to get the food ready. I knew one of them was the mayor but wasn’t sure who the other ones were. They all seemed happy and were joking. I wasn’t paying attention to their conversation but went to refill coffee for them. When I turned around to walk back towards the stove, I heard the mayor say, ‘Now, Sheriff Ortega, we are all friends here. I just wanna say you have one of the finest pieces of young black ass I’ve ever seen.’
“When I heard that I dropped the coffeepot. It was metal so it didn’t break, but the noise was loud enough that everyone just looked in my direction and got quiet. But not for long. Sheriff Ortega was boiling mad. He stood up and slammed his fist on the table and shouted, ‘Now, Mayor, that is no way to talk around a young lady. You stand up and apologize to her right now or I’m going to tan your hide!’
“By this time, I had turned around and was looking straight at the mayor. He cowered, and didn’t speak, just a blank look on his face. Sheriff Ortega slammed his fist on the table again and shouted, ‘Goddammit! I told you to stand up and apologize to her! And you’d better mean it if you plan to go home alive!’
“I was shocked. I had never heard the sheriff utter one swear word. I once heard him say that swearing was undignified and uneducated. I was young, but I was aware of the birds and the bees. I knew men could be randy, and I knew that white people could say the nastiest things they wanted about black people with no repercussion. And here was the sheriff telling the mayor he’d better apologize, goddammit! The other men were slack-jawed, astonished that the sheriff cared what the mayor had said about me. But the mayor stood up and started to stammer, ‘Um, Miss, Miss…’
“Apparently, he didn’t know my name.
“‘It’s Jasmine. Miss Jasmine, you fool!’ Sheriff Ortega looked like he just might burst. And then the mayor said, ‘Miss Jasmine. What I said. That was rude. I should never have said what I did. I was joking, but it was wrong. Please forgive me.’
“Sheriff Ortega softened. The mayor just stood there. I don’t know if he was sincere or just scared, but he looked sincere. Then one of the other men stood up and said, ‘You know, maybe we should just go. We shouldn’t impose on…on Miss Jasmine. She probably has work to do. So, Miss Jasmine, thank you for the coffee—that really hit the spot. Maybe we’ll have breakfast another time. Thank you again.’
“He really knew how to be polite. As they left, I noticed he had something green on the sleeve of his shirt. It looked like paint. Then I remembered he owned the construction supply store. The men all left except the mayor, who just stood there shaking. Until Sheriff Ortega said, ‘That’s it, Leonard. No breakfast today. Get out of my house, you reprobate. Goddammit!’
“With his tail between his legs, so to speak, the mayor left, and then Sheriff Ortega said, ‘Miss Jasmine. I am so sorry. That man is such a pig. He’s made me lose my appetite, but the coffee was exceptional as always. I think I’ll just go take a morning nap.’
“Of course, he said that all in Portuguese, and I just said ‘tudo bem’ as he walked down the hall to his room.”
Whale ran to the front door. She wanted another break, so Larry stood up and said, “Let’s all take a break. I’ll let Whale out.”