The Tallest Tree Chapter One As things turned out, it was the only tree left on the streetâ€"the one Odell Davis said he stood under when he had his picture taken with Paul Robeson. "With who ?" one of the younger boys asked. "Some dude ain't nobody heard of," one of the older boys answered. Hearing that, Odell Davis shook his head and looked up at the tree. The only one left. Of course, it hadn't always been that way. The older folks remembered when trees lined the entire street. On both sides. "Grand and beautiful, those trees." That's how Pike Howard at the barbershop described the now-gone trees. "Made a body feel proud just standing in their shade." "Beautiful trees on this street?" the younger boy wondered. Little Catfish, they called him. The older boy heard this as he watched Hambone Kelly lurching and weaving down the street, filled to the top as usual with too much party making. "Ain't never been nothing beautiful on this street," the boy sneered. Lamar. The trees weren't the only things that had vanished from the street. The Lakeside Bank had closed. The building was still there, but nothing was inside and most of the windows were boarded up. All the windows and doors were boarded up in the bread factory. Every kneader, baker, and packager who worked there had been laid off. Like old Maurice. Nowadays the short bald man who had been in charge of the huge ovens was often found just sitting on the curb, holding a sax nobody but him could see, making music nobody but him could hear. When those ovens were shut down for good, the delicious baking-bread smells old Maurice loved most vanished like his job had. It was the same up and down the street. The clothes shop had closed. The one called the Quality Shop before Mr. Pickus sold it. Slim's Shoe Salon took over that spot, but it had closed too. So had Waddell's Jewelry, although its gate of black iron diamonds was still locked tight. Nelson's Cafe on the corner was still open, but not for dinner anymore. Charlie Nelson shut off his deep-fry grill by three o'clock. After that there was only the smell of those crispy, sweet catfish filets he was famous for. For many, the saddest leaving of all was the dancing marquee at the Regal Theater. In its heyday the Regal had been a beautiful city palace. The brilliant square of its marquee was a crown of twinkling lights, skipping around the names of the famous musicians and actors who appeared there. Roland Hayes. Marian Anderson. Lena Horne. Josephine Baker. Count Basie. Ethel Waters. Duke Ellington. Paul Robeson. People had come to the Regal from miles and miles to see these stars. To hear them. But times got toughâ€"lost jobs, small money. The Regal could no longer afford to bring big stars to town. For a while the owners showed movies on the grand stage, announcing the titles on the marquee where the names of stars had been. But then the crown of lights skipped into darkness, and all the music that had filled the street with promise became silence. These days the Regal was a community center. There were yoga classes most Mondays and tai chi classes on Thursdays. Lamar kept waiting for a karate class to get started. His fourteen-year-old self decided karate was the only ancient art he needed to bother about knowing. Little Catfish came to the center every Wednesday after school and on Saturday mornings for chess classes. He was quite good at the game, especially having started only a year ago when he was seven. There were classes for adults, too. Little Catfish's grandmother signed up for a pottery class every time one was offered. Said it kept her fingers nimble. Once in a while the New Bethel A.M.E. Church would have something in what had been the Regal's main auditorium. Events to raise money, like recitals and concerts. But lately these events happened less and less. "Humph! This neighborhood has changed too much for them fancy church ladies," Sugar Johnson said. "Like that Mrs. Taylor-Jones woman. You know the one I'm talking about. Used to drive a big green car. Her husband's law office was down the street." Sugar Johnson had lived on that street for many years and knew it well. She spent long, alone hours on her front stoop. "Yeah, everything's changed 'round here," she would say, looking left and right while her eyes shifted into narrow. Especially when she saw Lamar and his pals strolling past on their way to nowhere in particular. "And it sure ain't changed for the better. Humph!" For Little Catfish, the neighborhood hadn't changed much at all. It was pretty much the way it had been for as long as he had lived thereâ€"which was all his life. He had never seen anybody pass through the bread factory doors to go to work. He had never gone to Nelson's for dinner. Just for lunch. As far as he knew, his mama had never shopped at Slim's or Waddell's. Or any other place in the neighborhood. She even took two buses to get to the store where she liked to buy groceries. "Prices at that corner store are too high," she said to Little Catfish when he grumbled about the long ride they had to take to the supermarket. "Plus, the fruits and vegetables they have aren't all that fresh." But there were times Little Catfish knew in the deep part of him that something was missing. Like just before dark when the streets seemed too still. Not filled with noises like the ones in those family stories on TV. And right after bedtime when it was never quite quiet enough. Little Catfish tried not to think about what might be missing. Instead, he decided that everything he needed was there: his mama and grandma and their small apartment above Mr. Pike Howard's barbershop. And, of course, there was Mr. Odell. The Tallest Tree . Copyright © by Sandra Belton . Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from The Tallest Tree by Sandra Belton All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
