Sons by Evan Hunter Page A

me money.”
    “No, no,” I said, “no.” I cleared my throat again. “You see, these arc, you know, changing times in America, and I thought, you see, I didn’t want to just lay around on some beach all summer, though that would be nice, still...”
    “You don’t want to come to Fire Island, is that it?”
    “I love Fire Island, it isn’t that.”
    “It’s some girl.”
    “No, no, I’m not serious about anybody right now. But the idea of just laying around all summer isn’t too appealing to me right now. I want to
do
something.”
    “Like what?”
    “You agree these are changing times?” I said, figuring I’d start my buildup now, get him to agree in principle the way I’d planned it, and
then
ask him for permission.
    “Yes, these are changing times,” he agreed.
    “Okay,” I said, “I want to go south this summer and help with voter registration. Negro voter registration.”
    My father puffed on his cigar.
    “A guy I know from school is going,” I said, “and I want to go with him. They pay a salary. I can earn between fifteen and twenty-five dollars a week.”
    “Is he colored or white?” my father asked.
    “He’s colored,” I said. “His name is Larry Peters, I think you met him once.”
    “I don’t remember meeting him,” my father said.
    “After one of the dances. He was helping us load the wagon.”
    “I don’t remember.”
    “Well, that’s who, anyway. He’s leaving for Mississippi in July. If I’m going with him, I’ve got to sign up as a task force worker right away. That’s why I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
    “A task forcer worker, huh?”
    “That’s right.”
    “And that’s why you came into the city today?”
    “No, I looked at a new amp at Manny’s, too. But while I was in, I figured I’d call you and we could talk about it here. I haven’t told Mom yet, I wanted to dear it with you first.”
    “She’ll say no.”
    “Well, not if you’ve already given permission.”
    “She’ll say no because it’s dangerous down there. You can get hurt down there.”
    “Pop, you can get hurt crossing the street right here in New York.”
    “Why do you want to go down there, anyway?”
    “I already told you. These are changing times...”
    “Yes, yes...”
    “... and I want to help.”
    “You can help right here. If you want to do something for the Negro, why don’t you get a job in Harlem this summer? At a playground or a youth center. Help them start a band, coach them in some sport, you’re good at those things, Wat, you could be very useful in an area like Harlem.”
    “I can be more useful in the South.”
    “Your friend can be more useful there.”
    “No, I think it’s important that some
while
people go down there.”
    “Why?”
    “To show them we’re interested. I mean, Pop, this isn’t just
their
problem, it’s
our
problem, too. If we care enough about what the hell’s going
on
in this country.”
    “All right, don’t get excited,” my father said.
    “Well, this means a lot to me.”
    “Did I say no?”
    “You’re
going
to say no, I can tell.”
    “I didn’t know you were a mind reader.”
    “Anyway, I think I ought to tell you I’ll be eighteen in October...”
    “July isn’t October. When did you say? You said July, didn’t you?”
    “Well, when school ends.”
    “That’s not October.”
    “I
know
it’s not October. Anyway, I may not even
need
your 7 0 permission. I haven’t really looked into the requirements yet, but I think...”
    “I would imagine you’d have to be eighteen,” my father said.
    “Maybe and maybe not,” I said. “Larry has all the information, I’ll have to check...”
    “If you’re so serious about this, why haven’t you checked already?”
    “I am serious about it. I didn’t think I was going to get such static here, that’s all.”
    “I wasn’t aware...”
    “I’m not asking for your permission because I
need
it, Pop.”
    “No? Then why are you asking?”
    “As a