El Coyote, the Rebel Page 18

  “Señorita Smith, I don’t sing.”

  “Can you read? You may take this Bible if you like.”

  “Thank you, señorita, but I do not know how to read.”

  “Oh, how sad! What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “I do not know—I think I will have to go out and look for work.”

  “If you don’t find a job, will you come to see me?”

  “I guess so,” I said.

  She extended her hand. “I’ll be waiting for you, and don’t worry, Brother Pérez. ‘All things work together for good for them that love God.’”

  “I am not worrying, Miss Smith.”

  “I’m glad, Mr. Pérez—good night.”

  “Hasta la vista, Miss Smith.”

  The next day after I came back from job hunting, I went to the mission, and Miss Smith asked me a lot of questions about my past. When I had told her some of my experiences in Mexico, she asked, “Brother Pérez—and now that you are in the United States, what do you intend to do? What seems to be your greatest ambition?”

  “I do not know what I will do, Miss Smith, but my greatest desire is to save my money and go to a school somewhere. I want to learn something, and I want to do useful things.”

  “Brother Pérez, if you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, you will be able to go to a school.” After pausing for a second, she asked, “Are you baptized?”

  “I guess I am—I think I was baptized as a child.”

  “Well, except a man be baptized in the name of the Lord he cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven. You have to be converted from paganism and heresy to Christianity. Will you be baptized?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Yes, Brother—be saved! Today is Tuesday and next Sunday some of our brethren are going to be baptized. Will you be one of them?”

  “Perhaps,” I said, as she extended her hand to tell me good-by.

  The following Monday I was suffering from a terrific cold which I caught as the result of having been submerged in a tank of cold water. As the minister held the end of my nose while I was being thrown backward into the tank of icy water, he said, “I baptize thee, Brother Pérez, ‘In the name of the Father, the Son, and of the Holy Ghost’—Amen!” So from that day on I was a baptized Christian.

  One day during the month of August of the same year, while I was at the mission, Miss Smith said, “Brother Luis, I have some good news for you.”

  “What is it, Miss Smith?”

  “I found a very good school in Albuquerque, New Mexico; the rates are very reasonable. You can go there for only seventy-five dollars for nine months. That includes tuition, board, and room.”

  “But I don’t have the seventy-five dollars—I have only sixty-five.”

  “Don’t worry, Brother Luis. The church and a lady—that is, a teacher who teaches in one of the Oklahoma high schools—are going to help you to pay the tuition for the first year. The money you have will be enough to pay your train fare. You must leave here by the first of next month. I have already made reservations for you in the school. Somebody will come to meet you there.”

  “Thank you, señorita, you are very kind. May I kiss your hand?”

  “No, Christian people should never kiss.”

  I thanked Miss Smith again, and by the second of September I was on my way to the school in Albuquerque.

  33

  I arrived at Albuquerque the fifth day of September at about three in the afternoon. When I got off the train, an old man greeted me in Spanish, saying, “How do you do—are you Mr. Pérez?”

  “Yes, señor, I am Luis—Luis Pérez,” I replied.

  “My name is George Williams—Dr. Williams. I am the dean of the school. We have a very nice private institution. Did you enjoy your long trip?”

  “Yes, señor, I did.”

  “Miss Smith wrote me that you have no parents. Is that right?”

  “That is true, Dr. Williams.”

  “Well—I hope you will have a good time here with us. We are just like one big happy family. The school is three miles south of the city. I don’t mind driving from the place to town because this is a good horse. We will be there in no time. Classes will start tomorrow morning.” Thus he rumbled, and eventually he asked, “Have you ever been in school before?”

  “Yes, señor, about a week when I was nine years old.”

  “Well, I think we will have to give you an entrance examination to determine the grade you should be in now. How old are you?”

  “I was sixteen the twenty-fifth of last month.”

  “Do you see those white buildings over there?” Pointing toward the south, he explained, “That is our college. We are going to have a big crowd this year.”

  “How many pupils do you usually have, Dr. Williams?”

  “It varies. The year before last we had seventy-five. Last year we had only forty-nine. This year I expect we will have about eighty boys, besides a few girl day students. That is a good number.”

  “What else do pupils do other than study?”

  “There is always a great deal to be done around the school. Since the parents of the pupils don’t pay us enough to hire someone to do the work, the children usually have to help in the kitchen. Some of the older boys take care of the horses and cows. The pupils also sweep the school rooms and do various jobs around the place. Quite often some of the students are able to get work after school hours or on Saturdays, in private homes.”

  “I hope I will be able to do something like that because I am short of money.”

  “I hope so. I will see that you get a job, but don’t neglect your school work because that is the most important thing.” Suddenly he shouted, “Whoa, Betsy! Here we are, Luis. This is our home. I will take you to your room and introduce some of the boys to you.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Williams,” I said. Then I was taken to my room where I met a lot of little and big boys. They were very pleasant and friendly, and every one of them wanted me to go to see his room. The bigger fellows wanted me to go out to try to make the basketball team, the baseball team, and the many other ball teams they had in the school.

  After dinner the registrar of the college came to my room and asked, “Well, sir—do you speak English?”

  “No, señor, I don’t.”

  “In that case we will have to do all our talking in Spanish.”

  “I think so, señor,” I replied.

  “Did you enjoy your trip?”

  “Yes, señor, I did.”

  “Fine, fine! What school did you attend last, and when?”

  “I haven’t attended any school—that is, I—I went to a Mexican parochial school for a week when I was nine years old.”

  “Is that all the education you have had?”

  “Yes, señor.”

  “Do you know how to read and write?”

  “No, señor.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Where were you born?”

  “In San Luis Potosí, Mexico.”

  “Are your father and mother living?”

  “No, señor, they are dead.”

  “Can you spell ‘college’?”

  “I think so—let me see—c-o-l-e-g-e.”

  “No, college has two l’s. Can you spell school?”

  “I think not, señor.”

  “Well, Luis—Luis is your name, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, señor, Luis Pérez is my name.”

  “I think you will have to start from the beginning. That is, you have to start in the first grade. There you will have to learn to read, write, and do some simple problems in arithmetic. It is too bad that you have to be with the little children, but it is necessary that you know your a-b-c’s before entering into higher learning Well, tonight we are having a community sing. It is compulsory—you better be there.”

  “Yes, señor, I will be there.”

  “Do you sing?”

  “No, señor, I don’t.”

  “What can you d
o, anyway?”

  “Nothing, I guess.”

  “Do you like music?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “All right, you come to the community singing—I am the leader of it.”

  He went out and left me alone wondering whether I should have come to the school. When he was away from the building, some of the older boys came in and one of them asked, “What did the old crank tell yuh?”

  “He is mean,” said another boy. “Sometimes he sends us to bed without supper. Ain’t it the truth, fellows?”

  “Yeah, he is mean,” shouted the crowd of boys.

  A third boy remarked, “His wife left him because he sleeps with his mouth open and snores.”

  “Nyeah,” said still another kid, talking through his nose. “He teaches history and he expects us fellows to read a chapter in the red history book in ten minutes. He is a lousy teacher. He was a garbage collector before he was hired by the school to teach history. Ain’t it so, fellows?”

  “Yeah,” cried the boys.

  “The Bull!” shouted one of the boys, and at that all of them ran out. In a few minutes another teacher, known to the boys as “The Bull,” stuck his head into my room and asked, “Is it warm enough for you?”

  “Yes, sir,” I answered, and he went away.

  At a quarter to eight that night we were singing patriotic and religious songs. The principal of the school delivered a speech in Spanish; then it was translated into English. The college was an American school, but two thirds of the pupils were Mexicans. Our studies were in English, but we spoke Spanish on the campus.

  Somewhere about a quarter to nine we were in our rooms, and at nine o’clock a boy rang a large bell.

  “What is that for?” I asked one of my roommates.

  “Every night at nine that bell is rung, and that means that we should kneel and say our prayers. Five minutes from now the bell is rung again, and that means to undress and go to bed. At nine-thirty the bell rings and the lights go out. At six tomorrow morning the principal of the school pulls the rope of the bell, and that means to get up. We do everything here by bells. You have to get used to it.”

  Soon the nine-thirty bell was ringing and the boy continued, “Good night, Luis. In the morning I shall tell you more about the different school rules and class regulations. I have been here nine years.”

  “Nyeah,” snuffled the other roommate, “he has been here nine years and he is still in the sixth grade.”

  “Shut up, snuffler!” said the boy who had explained the rules; and just then the teacher in charge of the dormitories came by and said, “No more talking, boys—nine-thirty already.”

  “Good night, Luis,” whispered one of the boys, and after that everything was silent.

  34

  During the summer vacation following my second year in school, I received a letter from Miss Smith, the missionary. She informed me that she was going to move to Los Angeles, California. She said that she was going to teach music in a Spanish seminary and also she added, “Brother Luis, if you still have the intention of becoming a minister of the Lord, as you said you did, you should come and enter the seminary. I have already talked to the dean, and he tells me that he can find work for you to do while attending school. It is a fine place; the teachers and the students are all fine Christian people. I hope you will come. I will be there in the school and once near you I could help you with your English—particularly letter writing—your Spanish, and your music. Think it over and let me know. I shall send you my Los Angeles address as soon as I can.”

  I had not answered Miss Smith’s letter when I received another urging me to come, sending me her new address and instructions as to how to get there.

  I wrote Miss Smith as soon as I could and told her that I was more than glad to come to Los Angeles, to enter the seminary and become a minister of the Lord to preach the Gospel to the Mexican people.

  On the thirteenth of September, 1922, I arrived in Los Angeles. I followed Miss Smith’s directions to the letter. On the train I wore my black suit, red tie, and tan button shoes. By this time my one and only suit was a pitiful sight. I had outgrown it. The coat sleeves barely covered my elbows. The legs of the trousers were also very short, but worst of all, the seat had been patched several times. The whole suit looked awful and I was aware of the fact, but there was nothing that I could do to improve it. When I wore it around people, I had to sit down or find a way to walk backwards, or behind the crowd, in order to keep them from criticizing my antiquated pantaloons.

  Miss Smith had instructed me to come to the seminary as soon as I arrived in Los Angeles. She assured me that she would be at the institution when I came. When I got off the train I called a taxi and told the driver where I wanted to go. In less than three minutes the cab stopped in front of the seminary, and the driver said, “Here we are, and here is your ticket. Thirty cents, please.”

  “Thirty cents for this short ride?” I asked.

  “That is what the meter shows.”

  After I had paid my fare, I went to the door and found it locked. Then I went next door, which was the missionaries’ residence, and after I had knocked, there came a whizz from a little unfamiliar funnel-shaped pipe that was next to the door frame. After the whizzing sound I heard a voice which asked, “Who is it?”

  I was so surprised by this contraption that I did not answer the question. Again I heard the whizzing and a second, “Who is it?” This time I gained a little courage and came closer to the pipe and said, “Eet ees I.”

  After a few seconds a blue-eyed, Amazon-type young woman came to the door and questioned me, “What can I do for you?”

  “Ees Mees Esmeeth, shee reeves here, yes, no?”

  “No Mees Esmeeth, shee no reeves here,” she answered, mimicking my broken English. Then she laughed and asked, “Are you Luis?”

  “Yes, señorita, I am Luis,” I answered, smiling.

  “Miss Smith asked me to tell you that she had to go to a faculty meeting, and that she wants you to wait for her. in the next building. She has been telling me a lot of nice things about you. Did you enjoy your trip?”

  “Yes, señorita, I did.”

  “Wait for me here. I am going to get the key to open the seminary door,” she said, letting me in and pointing to a chair in the waiting room.

  When my hostess returned with the keys we went to the seminary. And while we were in the main hall of the institution, she said, “Luis, you may wait here for Miss Smith. She’ll be in shortly. My name is Caroline Olson. I’m one of the missionaries on the faculty. I live next door and I am in charge of the clinic and the commissary of the seminary. Every year we give a lot of baskets of food to the needy.” After a short pause she continued, “I hope you will enjoy your school work here. We will be very glad to help you in every way we can. Now I must go; I have to fix my dinner and after that I have to call on the sick. Good-by, Luis, I will see you later.”

  “Good-by, Miss Olson, I hope that I will see you often,” I said, as she was going out of the building. She was so charming that I fell in love with her at first sight.

  That night the men at the dormitories told me that Miss Olson was the best-looking missionary in Los Angeles. They said that many of the students had been trying to make a date with her, but not one of them had had any luck.

  My first semester in the seminary was the hardest, but Miss Olson, who was my inspiration, made me forget my troubles. In fact, I was the fortunate man who won her affections.

  One bright afternoon, while I was alone in the seminary library, she tiptoed her way to me, and when I noticed her, she asked, “Will it be possible for a lady to visit a man who is alone?”

  “Why not? Especially when the man who is alone is in love with the señorita who comes to visit him.”

  “But what if we are seen together?”

  “Don’t be afraid, señorita. I can always say that you are a beautiful Christian missionary who came to bring good tidings of great joy to a lonely pagan.”<
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  “That is enough out of you, ‘Lonely Pagan.’ I came to ask if you would like to go to a concert with me tonight.”

  “And will you take me to dinner also?” I asked, jokingly.

  “Of course, it is understood—I expect you to feed me and entertain me whenever you take me out, but this is my treat tonight.”

  When I heard her statement I stood close to her and said, “Señorita Olson, you are certainly kind and beautiful. Your eyes are so blue and tempting that I wish I could kiss them.”

  “You must not say that. When temptation comes to you, you should say, ‘Get behind me, Satan.’”

  “Oh, no, señorita, I can never say that. I always say, ‘Come close to me, you little devil,’” and as I said that I embraced her and kissed her lips. That was the beginning of a romance, and after that we went together to many interesting places.

  One night during the Christmas vacation of 1923, I was with Miss Olson in the seminary storeroom, helping her to put up the baskets of food for charity. While we were there I kissed her. Miss Olson and I never thought anything of our kiss. But it so happened that Mr. Mingles, who taught logic in the seminary, was also in love with Miss Olson, and at the moment when I kissed her, Mr. Mingles went by the outside of the building and saw our silhouettes through the frosted glass window. He managed to call the dean’s attention to his observation of our lovemaking.

  Three days after I had kissed my blue-eyed missionary, I was summoned into the dean’s office.

  35

  When I entered the dean’s office I noticed that he was sitting in the center of the room, surrounded by the faculty of the seminary, with the exception of Miss Smith. The dean ordered me to sit down and as I was doing so, he said, “Mr. Pérez, we have a very grave matter to discuss with you. I have reports that you have misbehaved and that your conduct has been shameful.”

  “Is that right?” I asked.

  “Yes, that is right. Three weeks ago I saw you in Westlake Park walking arm in arm with Miss Olson.”

  “That is true; and last week I saw you on Fifth Street walking arm in arm with—”

  “That is no concern of yours,” he interrupted me.