Private Eye
When I graduated from Fisk University, I felt ready for the world. Just before commencement a classmate stirred my interest by mentioning a position in his hometown of Houston with a nationally known detective agency. Before this opportunity came along, the thought of being a private eye never crossed my mind. But as I explored it, I became increasingly excited about the possibility of being an undercover agent. My assignment would be to investigate use of illegally coded materials being shipped from Nashville to Houston through the mail. It sounded thrilling, and would give me a chance to see Texas, a whole new part of the country. Since the assignment would last less than a year, I gladly accepted the position.
With visions of cowboys and oilrigs, I made a quick trip home to see my family and my wife, and tell them about my good fortune. Margaret and I had not yet resolved our differences, so she suitably understood that because my assignment dictated that I be a loner --a streetwalker seeking any kind of employment --she would not go along. Also, as previously arranged, the salary I earned was being sent home to her and my parents. Consequently, My livelihood had to come by my own efforts on the street.
While at home, in figuring out how I would get to Houston, Providence stepped in again. A couple of cousins, soon leaving to drive to San Angelo in west Texas, unselfishly assured me that they would be glad to give me a free ride --all the way to Dallas. With a thankful heart, I shared the ride and the driving. My only travel expense was for a bus ride from Dallas to Houston.
When I started my new job, I learned almost immediately that I would be closely supervised, without much independence. My assignment contact took me to a specific house that had a room for rent. He told me that it was necessary that I live there for my undercover duties. I don't know whether he knew it or not, but by that twist of fate, I was to live in a household of homosexual men. Though intimidating at first, living there turned out to be an enlightening experience, because I learned to dismiss many preconceived notions I had about gay people. There was surprisingly little blatant sexual activity, and I was able to ignore most of that. I realized that I had a job to do, and that I couldn't keep myself locked up in my room, so I made myself at home. In reality, I was in and out of there just as though I was renting from any other people. I was there to seek out sources of illegal activities. Fortunately, only rarely was I attractive to any of their guests. By the grace of God, I was able to ward off advances, and at the same time, made some pretty good friends.
The first out- in-the-open job I found was to help assemble elevators in an Otis Elevator factory. After two weeks I was laid off, because the factory was closing down for the summer. Two more weeks at the Houston Star, the black newspaper publishing company, kept me in food bus fare and rent money, but that took me away from the people with whom I was supposed to associate. When I left there, the menial jobs I was able to get in the neighborhood paid barely enough for rent and food. Hunger became a major concern for me. While I knew many people --Fisk friends, who lived in Houston --I couldn't contact them. My covert activities prevented me from doing so, because they weren't supposed to know that I was even in town. When I later ran into some of them unexpectedly, I alienated myself further, because I couldn't explain my presence or my reason for being there.
These were the times when I grew desperate. I had never faced this kind of deprivation before. Adversity was maturing me, and in those times I remembered Dad's old affirmation that, “The Lord will provide.” On one particularly lonely night, I was in the nightclub district, aimlessly walking the street with only fifty cents in my pocket, and no idea where any more was coming from. Even though it was nearly three o'clock in the morning the streets were still full of partying people --none of them paying any attention to me. Lonesome, tired and hungry, I started toward a dilapidated sidewalk bench to rest. Just then, I noticed a group of about five people walking along, busily engaged in hilarity. As they moseyed along toward a light colored spot in the sidewalk, I spied something interesting on the ground right in front of them. They must have been smashed, because they walked right over it. I almost ran to the spot, because then I could see it was money. Gratefully, and with a happy bound, I picked up what turned out to be a twenty-dollar bill.
The Lord did provide! That night was the turning point of my fortunes. The very next day, through a want ad, I found a clerical job, which providentially happened to be in a suspect nightclub-hotel complex located on the other side of the city. There, I would eventually find the information for which I had come to Houston.
On my new job, I needed to be at the office at least by 10:30 in the morning, depending on how late I had worked the night before. My new job required a long tiring bus ride across town from where I was living. Fortunately after about a month, I was Okayed to find a room much better suited to me both in location and in lifestyle. I had a really comfortable room where I didn't have to worry that I would get an unwelcome knock on my door. Could this whole episode have happened by chance? I don't think so!