Ovid’s Metamorphoses (Book 8:183-235)*

Daedalus and Icarus

Meanwhile Daedalus, hating Crete, and his long exile, and filled with a desire to stand on his
native soil, was imprisoned by the waves. ‘He may thwart our escape by land or sea’ he said ‘but the
sky is surely open to us: we will go that way: Minos rules everything but he does not rule the
heavens’. So saying he applied his thought to new invention and altered the natural order of things.
He laid down lines of feathers, beginning with the smallest, following the shorter with longer ones,
so that you might think they had grown like that, on a slant. In that way, long ago, the rustic pan-
pipes were graduated, with lengthening reeds. Then he fastened them together with thread at the
middle, and bees’-wax at the base, and, when he had arranged them, he flexed each one into a gentle
curve, so that they imitated real bird’s wings. His son, Icarus, stood next to him, and, not realising
that he was handling things that would endanger him, caught laughingly at the down that blew in the
passing breeze, and softened the yellow bees’-wax with his thumb, and, in his play, hindered his
father’s marvellous work.
When he had put the last touches to what he had begun, the artificer balanced his own body
between the two wings and hovered in the moving air. He instructed the boy as well, saying ‘Let me
warn you, Icarus, to take the middle way, in case the moisture weighs down your wings, if you fly
too low, or if you go too high, the sun scorches them. Travel between the extremes. And I order you
not to aim towards Bootes, the Herdsman, or Helice, the Great Bear, or towards the drawn sword of
Orion: take the course I show you!’ At the same time as he laid down the rules of flight, he fitted the
newly created wings on the boy’s shoulders. While he worked and issued his warnings the ageing
man’s cheeks were wet with tears: the father’s hands trembled.
He gave a never to be repeated kiss to his son, and lifting upwards on his wings, flew ahead,
anxious for his companion, like a bird, leading her fledglings out of a nest above, into the empty air.
He urged the boy to follow, and showed him the dangerous art of flying, moving his own wings, and
then looking back at his son. Some angler catching fish with a quivering rod, or a shepherd leaning
on his crook, or a ploughman resting on the handles of his plough, saw them, perhaps, and stood
there amazed, believing them to be gods able to travel the sky.
And now Samos, sacred to Juno, lay ahead to the left (Delos and Paros were behind them),
Lebinthos, and Calymne, rich in honey, to the right, when the boy began to delight in his daring
flight, and abandoning his guide, drawn by desire for the heavens, soared higher. His nearness to the
devouring sun softened the fragrant wax that held the wings: and the wax melted: he flailed with
bare arms, but losing his oar-like wings, could not ride the air. Even as his mouth was crying his
father’s name, it vanished into the dark blue sea, the Icarian Sea, called after him. The unhappy
father, now no longer a father, shouted ‘Icarus, Icarus where are you? Which way should I be
looking, to see you?’ ‘Icarus’ he called again. Then he caught sight of the feathers on the waves, and
cursed his inventions. He laid the body to rest, in a tomb, and the island was named Icaria after his
buried child.

*From the University of Virgina’s Digital Verion of A.S. Kline’s translation:

http://ovid.lib.virginia.edu/trans/Ovhome.htm
 ...I.PID BOT I.EABK m E rs l l t ^ « R a lp h E llis o n
I t was c h i l l y up on to p . He were r id l n * up t o S t . ia>uls on a
^Ijgpnlfeat, c lin g in g t o th e to p o f a b o x c s r. I t was dank and s p a rk s
1
f ry ti th o englno fle w hack t e where we w ere r i d i n g . Boffietliies c in d e r s
fle w i n our f a c e s and th e t h i c k , tu m b lin g p a r t o f th e b la c k n e s s was
smoke. The f r e i g h t jM k e d and bumped and th e s p a rk s flo w p a s t,
, , . . B jh ir U n f a b la c k n e s s 1
d a n c in g r e d I n th e ^ T f f = f r ^ s - e h I I T y a s h e l l and we were tr a w e llh g
f a s t . The S an ta Pe f r e i g h t was h i g h - b a lli n g down ^ g rad e I n th e
FLYING HOME
.r v * l t th e n i g h t .
Ififhe c ln d e rs ~ ^ tr n c ic - « a f fa c e s lik e - s i^ n a K h lr ia ® i n th e w ind, and Other Stories
” How s o o n 'l l we make to S t. t b S s ? " I y e l le d to Sdorcle,
" TomtaoiT^ n y n , I f she d o n t Jump th e t r a c k . S h e 's ru n n in g l i k e
b i t c h ,w lth ^ ^ t c h , ” ho y e l le d In fay e a r .
M orrle' was my buddy, I had w et 'him in tiiu s^Ulflower Ju n g le o u i l ^ .
an Oklahoma tow n. He eU m bed o f f wherd t h t . ffc c lg h t sto p p ed a a ^ s a t
n e a r, me on the^ embankment. I t had g iv e n me a q u e e r f e e l in g aS
> a tc h d d ilia r o l l up h is tr o u s e r s and ta k e o f f h i s le g . The a r t j f l c i f i .1 Edited and with an Introduction by
le g had been f le s h - w h ite and th e stump rod* and raw . . fie h ad l o s t
h is ^ l e g to h e knee b e n e a th th e w heels o f a f r e i g h t and th e
J o h n F. C^allahan
a r t i f i c i a l le g had been g iv e n him by on in s u ra n c e company, fie t o l d
me he hod been on thv bum f o r f i v e y e a r s . The n e x t day he had sav ed
me from f a l l i n g betw een two o a rs t o feh© w heels below 'and he r e c ie v e d
/
qu^ig^^a k ic k from having a Negro f o r a buddy.
i»n o ld co u p le was riding^^ln th o c o r below us;. I h i^ d 'seen them
clim b q u i e t l y I n to th e boxcar when th e f r e i g h t had made i t s l e s t
s to p " a t dusk.

V I N T A G E I N T E R N A T I O N A L

Vintage Books
A Division of Random House, Inc.:
New York
 !

Contents
FIRST VINTAGE INTERNATIONAL EDITION, JANUARY 1998
if

Copyright © 1996 by Fanny Ellison

Introduction copyright © 1996 by John F. Callahan

All rights reselved under International and Pan-American Copyright

Conventions.'Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a divi­
sion of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada
by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published
in hardcover in the United States by Random House, Inc., New York, Introduction by John F. Callahan ix
in 1996.

Editor’s Note; \
The version of "Hymie’s Bull” published herein has been edited from
both Ellison's manuscripts and the galleys from New Challenge, where A ,P a r t y D o w n a t t h e S q u a r e 3
it was originally scheduled fo r publication in 1937; hence the differ­
ences between the story here and the version in the Random House B oy o n a T r a i n 12
hardcover first edition of Flying Home and Other Stories.
M iste r T o u s s a n 2^
Reproduction of a typescript page on page 175 from Ralph Ellison's
unpublished, untitled reminiscence on becoming a writer, fleproduced A ftern o o n 33
from the Collections of the Library of Congress. Photos on pages,iv and
175 courtesy of Fanny Ellisop. T h a t I H a d t h e W in g s 45
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publiqation Data A C o u p la S c a lp e d I n d ia n s 63
Ellison, Ralph.
Flying home and other stories / Ralph Ellison edited and with an in­ H y m i e ’s B u l l 82
troduction by John F. Callahan.—1st Vintage International ed.
p. cm.
I D id N ot L e a rn T h e ir N a m e s 89
ISBN .0-679-77661-3 (pbk.)
1. Afro-Americans—Social life and customs—Fiction.
I. Callahan, John F., 1940- . II. Title. A H a r d T i m e K e e p i n g Up 97
PS3555.L625F58 1997
813'.54—dc21 97-12393 , < T he B la c k B all 110
CIP
K in g o f th e B in g o G am e 123
Random House Web address: http://www.randomhouse.com
In a S tra n g e C o u n try 137
Printed ifa the United States of America
10 9 8 F ly in g H o m e , 147
146 .Ralph Ellison

vast new meaning which that part of him that wanted to'
sing' could not fit with the old familiar words. And beyond
the music he kept hearing the soldiers’ voices, yelling as
they had when the light struck his eye. He saw the singers
sftill staring, and as though to betray him he heard his own
voice singing put like a suddenly amplified radio:

". . . Gave proof through the night Flying Home

That our flag was still there .'. ."

It was like the voice of another, oVer whom he had no

control. His eye throbbed. A wave of guilt shook him, fol­
lowed by a burst of relief. For the first time in yopr whole
life, he thought with dreamlike wonder, the words are not
ironic. He stood in confusion as the song ended, staring
into the men’s Welsh faces, not knowing whether to curse
them or to return their good-natured smiles. Then the con­
ductor was before him, and Mr. Catti was saying, "You’re hen Todd came to, he saw two faces suspended
not such a bad singer yourself, Mr. Parker. Is he now, Mr.
Morcan?’’
W above him in a sun so hot and blinding that he
could not tell if they were black or white. He stirred, feeling
“Why, if he’d stay in Wales, I wouldn’t rest until he joined a pain that burned as though his whole body had been laid
the club,” Mr. Morcan said. "What about it, Mr. Parker?*’ open to the sun, which glared into his eyes. For a moment
But Mr. Parker,could not reply. He held Mr. Catti’s'flash­ an old fear of being touched by white hands seized him.
light like a club and hoped his black eye. would hold back Then the very sharpness of the pain began slowly to clear
the tears. his head. Sounds came to him dimly. He done come to. Who
are they? he thought. Naw he ain't, I coulda sworn he was
white. Then he heard clearly:
"You hurt bad?"
Something within him uncoiled. It was a Negro sound.

From Cross.Section, 1944

147
 t

148 Ralph Ellison ' c Bfying Home 149

"He’s Still out,” he heard. "Help me up," he said. "Into the ship,”
“Give ’im time. . . . Say, son, you hurt bad?" “But it’s broke too'bad . . . ”
Was he? There was that awful pain. He lay ngid, hearing "Give me your arm!"
their breathing and trying to weave a meaning between "But, s o n . . . ”
them and his being stretched paihfully upon the ground. He Clutching the old man’s arm, he pulled himself up, keep­
watched them warily, his mind graveling back over a painful ing his left leg clear, thinking, I’d never make him under­
distance. Jagged scenes, swiftly unfolding as in a movie stand, as the leather-smooth face came parallel witK his
trailer, reeled through his mind, and he saw himself piloting own.
a tailspinning plane and landing and falling from the cock­ "Now, let’s see.”
pit and tt*ying to stand. Then, as in a.great silence, he re­ He pushed'the old mart back, hearing a bird’s insistent
membered the sound of crunching bone and, now, looking shrill. He swayed, giddily. Blackness washed over him, like
up into the anxious faces of an old Negro man and a boy infinity.
from where he lay in the same field, the memory sickened "You best sit down.”
him and he wanted to remember no more. "No, I’m okay.”
"How you feel, son?" "But, son. You jus gonna make it worse . . . ’’
Todd hesitated, as though to answer would be ta admit an It was a fact that everything in him cried out to deny, even
unacceptable weakness. Then, "It’s my ankle," he said. against the flaming pain in his ankle. He would have to try
"Which one?” again.
"The left."' “You mess with that ankle they have to cut your foot off,”
With a sense of remoteness he watched the old man bend he heard.
and remove his boot, feeling the pressure ease. Holding his breath; he started up again. It pained so
“That any better?” badly that he had to bite his lips to keep from crying out
"A lot. Thank you.” and he allowed them to help him down with pang of de­
He had the sensation of discussing someone else, that his spair.
concern was with some far more important thing, which for "It’s best you take it easy. We gon git you a doctor"
some reason escaped him. Of all the luck, he thought. Of all’the rotten luck, now I
"You done broke it bad," the old man said. "We haVe to have done it. The fumes of high-octane gasoline clung in
get you to a doctor." the heat, taunting him.
He felt that he had been thrown into a tailspin. He looked "We kin ride him into town on old Ned,” the.boy said.
at his watch; how long had he been here? He knew there Ned? He turned, seeing the boy point toward an ox team,
was but one important thing in the world, to get, the plane browsing wfiere the buried blade of a plow marked the end
back to the field before his officers were displeased. of a furrow. Thoughts of himself riding an ox through the
150 Ralph Ellison
Flying Home 151

town, past streets full of white faces, down the concrete He saw the boy leave, running.
runways of the airfield, made swift images of humiliation in "How far does he have to go?"
his mind. With a pang he remembered his girl’s last letter. "Might’ nigh a mile."
“Todd," she had written, "I don't need the papers to tell me He rested back, looking at the dusty face of his watch. By
you had the intelligence to fly. And I have always known you now they know something has happened, he thought. In the
to be as brave as anyone else. The' papers annoy me. Don’t ship there Was a perfectly good radio, but it was useless.
you be contented to prove over and over again that you’re The old fellow would neyer operate it. That buzzard
brave or skillful just because you’re black, Todd. I think knocked me back a hundred years, he thought. Irony
they keep beating that dead horse because they don’t want danced within hirp like the gnats circling the old man’s
to say why you boys are not yet fighting. I’m really disap­ head. With all I've learned. I'm dependent upon this "peas­
pointed, Todd. Anyone with brains can learn to fly, but then ants sense of time and space. His leg throbbed; In the
what. What about using it, and who will you use it for?' I plane, instead of time being measured by the rhythms of
wish, dear, you’d write about this'. I sometimes think they’re pain and a kid's legs, the instruments would have told him
playing a trick on us. It’s very hum iliating.. . . ” He whipped at a glance. Twisting upon his elbows, he saw where dust
cold Sweat from his face, thinking. What does she know of had powdered the plane's fuselage, feeling the lump form in
humiliation? She’s never been down South. Now the humil­ his throat that was always there when he thought of flight.
iation would come. When you niust have them judge you, It's crouched there, he thought, like the abandoned shell of
knowing that they never accept your fnistakes as your own a locust. Im naked without it. Not a machine, a suit of
but hold it against your whole race—that was humiliation. clothes you wear. And with a sudden embarrassment and
Yes, and humiliation was when you could never be simply wonder he whispered, "It's the only dignity I have. •..."
yourself; when you were always a part of this old black ig­ He saw the old man watching, his torn overalls clinging
norant man. Sure, he’s all right. Nice and kind and helpful. limply to him in the heat. He felt a sharp need to tell the old
But he’s not you. Well, there’s one humiliation I can spare man what he felt. But that would be meaningless. If I tried
myself. to explain why I need to fly back, he’d think I was simply
"No," he said. “I have orders not to leave the ship. .. .’’ afraid of white officers. But it’s more than fear . . . a sense
"Aw,"' the old man sdid. Then turning to the boy, "Teddy, of anguish clung to him like the veil of sweat that hugged
then you better hustle down to Mister Graves and get him his face. He watched the old man, hearing him humming
to com e.. . . ’’ snatches of a tune as he admired the plane. He felt a furtive
"No, wait!" he protested before he was fully aware. sense of resentment. Such old men often camd to the field
Graves might be white. "Just have him ge,t word to the field, to watch the pilots with childish eyes. At first it had made
please. The'y’ll take care of the rest." him proud; they had been a meaningful part of a new expe-
152 Ralph Ellison
Flying Home 153

rience, But soon he realized they did not understand his ac- "I can wait," he said.
cofnplishments and they came to shame and enibarrass "What kinda airplane you call this here’n?’’
him, like the distasteful praise of an idiot. A part of the "An Advanced Trainer," he said, seeing the old man smile.
meaning of flying had gone, theri, and he had not been able His fingers were like gnarled dark wood against the metal
to regain it. If I were a prize-fighter I would be more as he touched the’low-slung wing.
human, he thought. Not a monkey doing tricks, but a man. " ’Bout how fast can she fly?"
They were pleased simply that he was a Negro who could "Over two hundred an hour."
fly, and that was not enough? He felt cut off from them by Lawd! Thats so fast I bet it don’t,seem like you moving!”
age, by understanding, by sensibility, by technology, and by Holding himself rigid, Todd opened his flying suit. The
his need to measure himself against the m irror of other shade had gone and he lay in a ball of fire.
men’s appreciation. Somehow he felt betrayed, as he had You mind if I take a look inside? I was always curious to
when as a child he grew to discover that his father was see. . .
dead. Now, for him, any real appreciation'lay with his white "Help yourself. Just don’t touch anything."
officers; and with them he could never be sure. Between ig­ He heard him climb .upon the, metal wing, grunting. Now
norant black men and condescending whites, his course of the questions would start. Well, so you don’t have, to think
flight seemed mapped by the nature of things away from all tb answer.. . .
needed and natural landmarks. Under some sealed orders, He saw the old man looking over into the cockpit, his
couched in ever more technical and mysterious terms, his eyes bright as a child’s.
path curved swiftly away from both the shame the old man You must have to know a lot to work all these, here
symbolized and the cloudy terrain of white man’s regard. things."
Flying blind, he knew but 6ne point of landing and there he Todd was silent, seeing him step down and kneel beside
would receive his wings. After that the enemy would appre­ him.
ciate his skill and he would assume his deepest meaning,- he "Son, how come you want to fly way up there in the air?"
thought sadly, neither from those who condescended nor Because it’s the most meaningful act in the world . . . be­
from those who praised without understanding, but from cause it makes me less like you, he thought.
the enemy who would recognize his manhood and skill in But he said: Because I like it, I guess. It’s as good a way
terms of hate. . . . to fight and die as I know."
He sighed, seeing the oxen making queer, prehistoric "Yeah? I guess you right," the old man said. "But how
shadows against the dry brown earth. long you think before they'gonna let you all fight?”
“You just take it easy, son," the old man soothed. "That He tensed. This was the question all Negroes asked, put
boy won’t take long. Crazy as he is about airplanes.” with the same timid hopefulness and longing that always
 154 Ralph Ellison Flying Home 155

opened a greater void within him than that he had felt be­ Todd’s thoughts like air flowing over the fuselage of a flying
neath the plane the first time he had flown. He felt light­ plane. You were a fool, he thought, remembering how be-
headed. It came to him suddenly that there was something fpre the spin the sun had blazed, bright against the bill­
sinister about the conversation, that he was flying, unwill­ board signs beyond the town, and how a boy’s blue kite had
ingly into unsafe and uncharted regions. If he could only be bloomed beneath him, tugging gently in the wind like a
insulting and tell this old man who was trying to help him strange, odd-shaped flower. He had once flown such kites
to shut up! himself and tried to find the boy at the end of the invisible
“I bet you one thing .. cord. But he had been flying too high and too fast. He had
"Yes?" climbed steeply away in exultation. Too steeply, he thought.
“That you was plenty scared coming down.” And one of the first rules you learn is that if the angle of
He did not answer. Like a dog on a trail the old m an thrust is too steep the plane goes into a spin. And then, in­
seemed to smell out his fears, and he felt anger bubble stead of pulling out of it and going into a dive you let a buz­
within him. zard panic you. A lousy buzzard!
"You sho scared me. When I seen you coming down in "Son, what made all that blood on the glass?"
that thing with it a-rollin’ and a-jumpin’iike a pitchin’ boss, "A buzzard,” he said, remembering how the blood and
I thought sho you was a goner. T almost had me a stroke!” feathers had sprayed back against the hatch. It had been as
He saw the old man grinning. "Ever'thin’s been happen­ though he had flown into a storm of blood and blackness.
ing round here this moniing, come to think of it.” "Well, I declare! They's lots of ’em around here. They after
"Like what?” he asked. dead things. Don't eat nothing what's alive."
"Well, first thing I know, here come two white fellers look- “A little bit more and he would have made a meal out of
, ing for Mister Rudolph, that’s Mister Graves' cousin. That me,” Todd said grimly.
got me worked up right away.. . . ” ^ "They had luck all right. Teddy's got a name for ’em, c^ls
"Why?” ’em jimcrows,” the old man laughed.
"Why? 'Cause he done broke outa the crazy house, that’s "It’s a damned good name.”
why. He liable to kill somebody,” he said. "They oughta have "They the damnedest birds. Once I seen a hoss all
him by now though. Then here you come. First I think it's stretched'.out like he was sick, you know. So I hollers, 'Gid
one of them white boys. Then doggone if you don't fall outa up from there, suh!’ Just to make sho! An’, doggone, son, if I
there. Lawd, I'd done heard about you boys but I haven't don’t see two’ old jimcrows come fl5dng right up outa that
never, seen one o’ you all. Caint tell you how it felt to' see boss’s insides! Yessuh! The sun was shinin’ on ’em and they
somebody what look like me in a airplane!” couldn’fa been no greasier if they’d been eating barbecue!”
The old man talked on, the sound streaming around Todd thought he would vomit; his stomach quivered.
 Flying Home 157
156 Ralph Ellison

"I hope so,” he said wearily.

"You made that up," he said.
"You boys ever .sit aroupd and swap lies?”
“Nawsuh! Saw him just like you.” ,
"Not often. Is this going to be one?”'
"Well, I'm glad it was you.”
"You see lots a funny things down here,'son.” "Well, I ain't so sho, on account of it took place when I
was dead.”
"No, I’ll let you see them,” he said.
"By the way, the white folks round here don’t like to see The old man paused. "That wasn’t no lie 'bout the buz­
you'boys up there in the sky, They ever bother you?” zards though.”
"All right,” he said.
X "No.”
"Sho you want to hear 'bout heaven?”
"Well, they’d like to.”
"Someone always wahts to bother someone else,” Todd "Please,” he answered, resting his head upon hi^ arm.
"Well, I went to heaven and right away started to
said. "How do you know?”
sproutin’ me sojne wings. Six-foot ones, they was. Just like
"I just know.”
"Well,” he said defensively, "no one has bothered us. them the white angels had. I couldn’t hardly believe it. I was
Blood pounded in his ears as h6 looked away into space. so glad that I went off on some clouds by myself arid tried
He tensed, seeing a black spot in the sky, and strained to ’em out. You know, ’cause I didn’t want to make a fool outa
myself the first thing . . .”
confirm what he could not clearly see.
"What does that look like to you?” he asked excitedly. It’s an old tale, Todd thought. Told me years ago. Had for­
gotten. But at least it will keep hini from talking about buz­
"Just another bad luck, son.”
Then he saw the movement of wings with disappoint­ zards.
ment. It was gliding smoothly down, wings outspread, tail He closed his eyes, listening.
feathers gripping the air, down swiftly gone behind the ". . . First thing I done was to git up on a low cloud and
green screen of trees. It was like a bird he ha^i imagined jump off. And doggone, boy, if them wings didn’t work!
there, only the sloping branches of the pines remained, First I tried the right; then I tried the left; then I tried ’em
sharp against the pale stretch of sky. He lay barely breath­ both together. Then, Lawd, I started to move on out among^
ing and stared at the point where it had disappeared, the folks. I let ’em see me . . . ”
caught in a spell of loathing and admiration. Why did th€y He. saw the old man gesturing- flight with his arms, his
make them so disgusting and yet teach them to fly so well? face full of mock pride' as he indicated an imaginary crowd,
It's like when I was up in heaven, he heard, starting. thinking. It’ll be in the newspapers, as he heard, ".. . so I
The old man was chuckling, rubbing his stubbled chin. went and found me some colored angels—somehow I didn’t
believe I was an an^el till I seen a real black one, ha, yes!
"What did you say?”
"Sho, I died and went to heaven .. . maybe by time' I tell Then I was sho—but they tole me I better come down ’cause
us colored folks had to wear a special kin'a, harness when
you apout it they be done come after you.”
158 Ralph Ellison Flying Home 159
I

we flew. That was how come they wasn’t flyin'. Oh yes, an' looked at his watch; why the hell didn’t they come? Since
you had to be extra strong for a black m an even, to fly with they had to, why? One day I was flying down one of them
one of them harnesses .. heavenly streets. You got yourself^into it, Todd thought. Like
This is a new turn, Todd thought. What's he driving at? Jonah in the whale.
"So I said to myself, I ain’t gonha be bothered with no "Justa throwin’ feathers in eve’body’s face. An’ ole Saint
harness! Oh naw! 'Cause if God let you sprout wings you Peter called me in. Said, ‘Jefferson, tell me two things, what
oughta have sense enough not to let nobody make you wear you doin’ flying’ without a harness; an’ how come you flyin’
something what gits in the way of flyin'. So I starts to flyin . so fast?’ So I tole him I was flyin’ without a harness ’cause It
Hecks, son," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling, "you know I got in my way, but^I couldn’ta been flyin’ so fast, ’cause I
had to let eve’body know that old Jefferson could fly good as wasn’t usin’-but one wing. Saint Peter said, 'You wasn’t flyin’
anybody ^Ise. And I could too, fly smooth as a bird! I could with but one wing?’ ‘Yessuh,’ I says, scared-like. So he says,
even loop-the-loop—only I had to make sho to keep my long ‘Well, since you got sucha extra fine pair of wings you can
white robe down roun' my ankles . . . ” leave off yo harness awhile. But from now on none of th at,
Todd felt uneasy. He wanted to laugh at the joke, but his there one-wing flyin’, ’cause you gittin’ up too damn much
body refused, as of an independent will. He felt as he h§d as speed!’ ”
a child when after he had chewed a sugar-doated pill Which And with one mouth full of bad teeth you’re making too
his m other had given him, she had laughed at his efforts to damned much talk, thought Todd. Why don’t I send him
remove the terrible taste. after the boy? His body ached from the hard ground, and
". . . Well,” he heard. "I was doing all right till I got to seeking to shift his position he twisted his ankle and hated
speeding. Fopnd out I could fan up a right strong breeze, I himself for crying out.
could fly so fast. I could do all kin'sa stunts too. I started fly­ "It gittin’ worse?”
ing up to the stars and divin' down and zooming roun’ the "I ^. !l twisted it,” he groaned.
moon. Man, I like to scare the devil outa some ole white an­ "Try not to think, about it, son. That’s what I do.”
gels. I was raisin’ hell. Not that I meant any harm, son. But He bit his lip, fighting pain with counter-pain as the voice
I was just feeling good. It was so good to know I was free at resumed its rhythmical droning. Jefferson seemed caught
last. I accidentally knocked the tips offa some stars and they in his own creation.
tell me I caused a storm and a coupla lynchings down here ".. . After all that trouble I just floated roun’ heaven in
in Macon County—though I swear I believe them boys what slow motion. But I forgdt like colored folks will do and got
said that was making up lies on. me . . ." to flyin’ with one wing agin. This time I was restin’ my ole
He’s mocking me, Todd thought angrily. He thinks it’s a broken arm and got to flyin’ fast enough to shame the devil.
joke. Grinning down at me . . . His throat was dry. He I was cornin’ soiast, Lawd, I got myself called befo ole Saint
160 Ralph Ellison Flying Home 161

Peter agin. He said, 'Jeff, didn’t I warn you 'bout that He hated himself at that moment, but he had lost control.
speedin'?’ 'Yessuh,' I says, 'but it was an accident."’ He He saw Jeffersoh’s mouth fall open. "What—?”
looked at me sad-like and shook his head and I knowed' I "Answer jne!"
was gone. He said, 'Jeff, you and that speedin’ is a danger to His blood pounded as though it would surely burst his
the heavenly cpmmunity. If I was to let you keep on flyin’, temples, and he tried to reach the old man and fell, scream­
heaven wouldn’t be nothin’ but uproar. Jeff, you got to go!’ ing, "Can I help it because they won’t let us actually fly?
Son, I argued and pleaded with that old white man, but it Maybe we are a bunch of buzzards feeding on a dead horse,
didn’t do a bit of good. They rushed me straight to them but we can hope to be eagles, can’t we? Can't we?"
pearly gates and gimme a parachute and a map of the state He fell back, exhausted, his ankle pounding. The saliva
of Alabama . .." was like straw in his mouth. If he had the strength he would
Todd heard him laughing so that he could hardly speak, strangle this old man. This grinning gray-headed clown
making a screen between them upon which his humiliation who made him feel as he felt when watched by the white of­
glowed like fire. ficers at the field. And yet this old man had neither power,
"Maybe you’d better stop a while,’’ he said, his voice un­ prestige, rank, nor technique. Nothing that could rid him of
real. this terrible feeling. He watched him, seeing his face strug­
"Ain’t much more," Jefferson laughed. "When they gimme gle to express a turmoil of feeling.
the parachute ole Saint Peter ask me if I wanted to say a "What you mean, son? What you talking ’b o u t.. ; ?”
few words before I went. I felt so bad I couldn’t hardly look "Go away. Go tell your tales to the white folks."
at him, specially with all them white angels standin’ "But I didn’t mean nothing like t h a t . . . I . . . I wasn’t
around. Then somebody laughed and made me mad. So I try in’ tp hurt your feelings . . . ” i
tole him, 'Well, you done took my wings. And you puttin’ "Please. Get the hell away from me!”
me out. You got charge of things so’s I can’t do nothin' "But I didn’t, son. I didn’t mean all them things a-tall.”
about it. But you got to admit just this; While I was up here Todd shook-as with a chill, searching Jefferson’s face for a
I was the flyin’est son-of-a-bitch what ever hit heaven!’ ” trace of the mockery he had seen there. But now the face
At the burst of laughter Todd felt such an intense jiumili- was somber and tired and old. He was confused. He could
ation that only great violence would wash it away. The not be sure that there had ever been laughter there, that Jef­
laughter which shook the old man like a boiling purge set ferson had ever really laughed in his whole life. He saw Jef­
up vibrations of guilt within him which not even.the intri­ ferson reach out to touch him and shrank away, wondering
cate machinery of the plane would have been adequate to if anything except the pain, now causing his vision to waver,
transform and he heard himself screaming, "Why do you was real. Perhaps he had imagined it all.
laugh at me this way?” "Don’t let it get you down', son,” the voice said pensively.
 1
162 Ralph Ellison Flying Home 163

He heard Jefferson §igh wearily, as though he felt more horses could hold my attention for the rest of the fair. I was
than he could say. His anger ebbed, leaving, only, the pain. too, busy imitating the tiny drone of the plane with my lips,
“I’m sorry," he mumbled. and imitating with my hands the motion, swift and circling,
“You just wore out with pain, was a l l .. .” that it made in flight.
He Saw him through a blur, smiling. And for a second he After that I no longer used the pieces of lumber that lay
felt the embarrassed silence of understanding flutter be­ about our backyard to construct wagons and autos . . . now it
tween them. was used for airplanes. I built biplanes, using pieces of board
"What vyas you doin' flyin’ over'this section, son? Wasn’t for wings, a small box for the fuselage, another piece of wood
yoU scared they might shoot you for a crow?” for the rudder. The trip to the fair had brought something new
Todd tensed. Was he being laughed at again? But before into my small world. I ashed my mother repeatedly when the
he could decide, the pain shook him and a part of him was fair would come back again. I'd lie in the grass and watch the
lying calmly behind the screen of pain that had fallen be­ sky and each flighting bird became a soaring plane. I would
tween them, recalling the first time he had ever seen a have been good a year just to have seen a plane again. I be­
plane. It was as though an endless series of hangars had came a nuisance to everyone with my questions about air­
been shaken ajar in the airbase of his memory and from planes. But planes were new to the old folks, too, andfthere
each, like a young wasp emerging from its cell, arose the yk>as little 4hat they could tell me. Only my uncle knew some of
memory of a plane. the answers. And better still, he could carve propellers from
pieces of wood that would whirl rapidly in the wind, wob­
The first time I ever saw a plane I was very small and planed bling noisily upon oiled nails.
were new in the world. I was four and a half and the only I wanted a plane more than I'd wanted anything; more than
plane that I had ever seen was a model suspended from the I wanted the red wagon with rubber tires, more than the train^
ceiling of the automobile exhibit at the state fair. But I did not that ran on a track vHth its train of cars. I asked my mother
know that it was only a model. I did not know how large a over and over again:
real plane was, nor how expensive. To me it was a fascinating “Mama?"
toy, complete in itself which mj> mother said could only be “What.do you want, boy?" she'd say.
owned by rich little white boys. I stood rigid with admiration, "Mama, will you get mad if I ask you?" I'd say.
my head straining backward as I watched the gray little plane “What do you want now, I ain't got time to be answering a
describing arcs above the gleaming tops of the automobiles. lot of fool questions. What you want?" ,
And I vowed that, rich or poor, some day I would own such a “Mama, when you gonna get me one . . . ?"I'd ask.
toy. My mother had to drag me out of the exhibit, and not “Get you one what?" she'd say. .
even the merry-go-round, the Fertis wheel, or the racing "You know. Mama; what I been asking you . . . ”

i I
 Flying Home 165
164 Ralph Ellison

“Boy,” she’d say, "if you don't want a spanking you better than the eaves of our roof. Seeing it come steadily forward I
come on 'n telt me what you talking about so I can get on felt the world grow warm with promise. I opened the screen
with my,work." and climbed over it and clung there, waiting. I would catch
"Aw, Mama, you know . . . ” the plane as it came over and swing down fast and run into
"What I just tell you?" she'd say. , the house before anyone could see me. Then no one could
“I mean when you gonna buy me a airplane." come to. claim, the plane. It droned nearer. Then when it hung
"AIRPLANE! Boy, is you crazy? How many times I have to like a silver cross in the blue directly above me I stretched out
tell you to stop that foolishness. I done told you them things my hand and grabbed. It was like sticking my finger through a
cost too much. I bet I’m gon wham the living daylight out of soap bubble. The plane flew on, as though I had simply blown
you if you don't quit worrying me 'bout them things!” my breath after it. I grabbed again, frantically, trying to.catch
But this did not stop me, and a few days later I'd try all over the tail. My fingers clutched the air and disappointment
again. surged tight and hard in my throat. Giving one last desperate
Then one day a strange thing happened. It was spring and grasp, I strained forward. My fingers ripped from the screen. I
fqr some reason I had been hot and irritable all morning. It was falling. The ground burst hard against me. I drummed
was a beautiful spring. I could feel it as I played barefoot in the earth with my heels and when my breath returned, I lay
the backyard. Blossoms hung from the thorny bla:ck locust there bawling.
treeslike clusters of fragrant white grapes. Butterflies flickered My mother rushed through the door.
in the sunlight above the short new dew-wet grass. I had gone “What's the matter, chile! What on earth is wrong with
in the house for bread and butter and coming out I heard a you?"
steady unfamiliar drone. It was unlike anything I had ever “It's gone! It's gone!"
heard before. I tried to place the sound. It was no use. It was "What gone?”
a sensation like that I had when searching for my father's “The airplane. . . "
watch, heard ticking unseen in a room. It made me feel as “Airplane?" ^
though I had forgotten to perform some task that my mother ‘Yessum, jus like the one at the fair. . . I . . . I tried to stop
had ordered. . . then I located it, overhead. In the sky, flying it an’it kep right on going. . . "
quite low and about a hundred yards' ojf, was a plane! It came “When, boy?”
so slowly that it seemed barely to move. My mouth hung “Ju^t now,"I cried through my tears.
wide; my bread and butter fell into the dirt. I wanted, to jump “Where it go, -boy, what way?"
up and down and cheer. And when the idea struck I trembled ‘Yonder, there. . . "
with excitement: Some -little white boy’s plane's done flew She scanned the sky, her arms akimbo and her checkered
away and all I got to do is stretch out my hands and it'll be apron flapping in the wind, as I pointed to the fading plane.
mine! It was a little plane like that at the fair, flying no higher Finally she looked down at me, slowly shaking her head.
166 Ralph Ellison Flying Home 167

"It's gone! It’s gone!" ! cried. "Ain’t that one of you all’s airplanes comihg after you?"
"Boy, is you a fool?" she said. "Don’t you see that there’s a As hi§ vision cleared he saw a small black shape above
real airplane ^stead of one of them toy ones?’’ a distant field, sparing through waves of hfeat. But he
"Real. . . ? ” / forgot to cry. "Real?" ' could not be sure and with the pain he feared that
"Yass, real. Don’t you know that thing you reaching for is somehow a horrible recurring fantasy of being split
bigger’n a auto? You here trying to reach for it and I bet it’s in twain by the whirling blades of a propeller had come
flying ’bout two hundred miles higher’n this roof.’’ She was tnie.
disgusted with me. "You come on in this house before some­ "You think he sees us?" he heard.
body else sees what a fool you done turned out to be. You "See? I hope so.”
must think these here li’l ole arms of your’n is mighty "He’s coming like a bat outa hell!"
long..." Straining, he heard the faint sound of a motor and hoped
I was carried into the house and undressed for bed and the it would soon be over.
doctor was called. I cried bitterly; as much from the disap­ "How you feeling?"
pointment of finding the plane so far beyond my reach as "Like a nightmare," he said.
from the pain. "Hey, he’s done curved back the other way!"
When the doctor came I heard my mother telling him about "Maybe he saw us,” he said. "Maybe he’s gone to send out
the plane and asking if anything was wrong with my mind. the ambulance and ground crew.” And, he thought with de­
He explained that I had had a fever for several hours. But I spair, maybe he didn’t even see us.
was kept in bed for a week and I constantly saw the plane in "Where did you send the boy?”
my sleep, flying just beyond my fingertips, sailing so slowly "Down to Mister Graves,” Jefferson said, "Man what
that it seemed barely to move. And each time I’d reach out to owns this land.”
grab it I’d miss-and through each dream I’d hear my 'grandma "Do you think he phoned?”
warning: Jefferson looked at him quickly.
“Aw sho. Dabney Graves is got a bad name on accoUnta
'Young man, young man them killings, but he’ll call though . . . ’’
Yo arm’s too short "What killings?”
To box with God. . . . " "Them five fellers . . . ain’t you heard?" he asked with sur­
I
prise.
"Hey, son!" "No." I
At first he did not know where he was and looked at the .. “Eve’body knows ’bout Dabney Graves, especially the col­
old man pointing, with blurred eyes. ored. He done killed enough of us.”
 168 Ralph Ellison Flying Home 169
I

Todd had the sensation of being caught in a white neigh­ closer I spin toward the earth the blacker I become, flashed
borhood after dark. , through his mind. Sw'eat ran into his eyes and he was sure
"What did-they do?” he asked. that he would never sefe the plane if his head continued
"Thought they was men," Jefferson said. "An’ some he whirling. He tried to see Jefferson, what it was that Jeffer­
owed money, like he do me .. .” son held in his hand. It was a little black man, another Jef­
"But why do you stay here?" ferson! A little black Jefferson that shook with fits of belly
"You black, son.” laughter while the other Jefferson looked on with detach­
"I know, b u t. . ." ment. Then Jefferson looked up from the thing in his hand
"You have to come by the white folks, too." and turned to speak but Todd was far away, searching the
He turned away from Jefferson's eyes, at once consoled sky for a plane in a hot dry land on a day and age he had
and accused. And I’ll, have to come by them soon, he long' forgotten. He was going mysteriously with his mother
thought with despair. Closing his eyes, he heard Jefferson’s through empty streets where black faces peered from be­
voice as the sun burned blood-red upon his lids. hind drawn shades and someone was rapping at a window
"I got nowhere to go," Jefferson said, "an’ they’d come and he was looking back to see a hand and a frightened face
after me if I did. But Dabney Graves is a funny fellow. He’s frantically beckoning from a cracked door and his mother
all the time making jokes. He can be mean as hell, then he’s was looking down the empty perspective of the street and
liable to turn right around and back the colored against the shaking her head and hurrying him along and at first it was
white folks. I seen him do it. But me, I hates him for that only a flash he saw and a motor was droning as through the
more’n anything else. ’Cause just as soon as he gits tired sun’s glare he saw it gleaming silver as it circled and he was
helping a mhn he don’t care what happens to him. He just seeing a burst like a puff of white smoke and hearing his
leaves him stone-cold. And then the other white folks is mother yell, "Come along, boy, I got no time for them fool
double hard on anybody he done helped. For him it’s just a airplanes, I got no time," and he saw it a second time, the
joke. He don’t give a hill^i beans for nobody—^but his- plane flying high, and the burst appeared suddenly and fell
self. . .’’ slowly, billowing out and sparkling like fireworks and he
Todd listened to the thread of detachment in the old was watching and being hurried along as the air filled with
man’s voice. It was as though he held his words at arm’s a flurry of white pinwheeling cards that caught in the wind
length before him to avoid their destructive meaning. and scattered over the rooftops and into the gutters and a
"He’d just as soon do you a favor and then turn right woman was running and snatching a card and reading it
around and have you strung up. Me, I stays outa his way and screaming and he darted into the shower, grabbing as
’cause down here that’s what you gotta do." in winter he grabbed for snowflakes and boundii^g away at
If my ankle would only ease for a while, he thought. The his mother’s, "Come on here, boy! Come on, I say!” And he
 170 Ralph Ellison Flying Home 171

was watching as she took the card away seeing her face cousin Rudolph liable to kill somebody. White folks or nig­
grow puzzled and turning taut as her voice quavered, "Nig­ gers don't make no difference . . . ”
gers Stay from the Polls,” and died to a moan of terror as he Todd saw the man turn red with anger. Graves looked
saw the eyeless sockets of a white'hood staring, at hirn from down upon him., chuckling.
the card and above he saw the plane spiraling gracefully, "This nigguh belongs in a straitjacket, too, boys. I knowed
agleam in the sun like a fiery sW>rd. And seeing it soar he that the minnit Jeffs Icid said something 'bout a nigguh
was caught, transfixed between a terrible horror and a hor­ flyer. You all know you caint let the nigguh git up that high
rible fascination. without his going crazy. The nigguh brain ain't built right
The sun tvas not so high now, and Jefferson was calling, for high altitudes. . . ”
-and gradually he saw three figures moving across the curv­ ‘Todd watched the drawling red face, feeling that all the
ing roll of the field. unnamed horror and obscenities that he had ever imagined
"Look like some doctors, all dressed in white," said Jeffer­ stood materialized before him.
son. "Let's git outa here,” one of the attendants said.
They're coming at last, Todd thought. And he felt such a Todd saw the other reach toward him, realizing for the
release of tension within him that he^ thought he would first time that he-lay upon a stretcher as he yelled:
faint. But no sooner did he close his eyes than he was seized "Don’t put your hands on me!”
and he was struggling with three white men who were forc­ They drew back, surprised.
ing his arms into some kind of coat. It was too much for "What's that you say, nigguh?" asked Graves.
him, his arms were pinned to his sides and as the pain He did not answer and thought that Graves’ foot was
blazed in his eyes, he realized that it was a straitjacket. aimed at his head. It landed in his chest and he could
What filthy joke was this? hardly breathe. He coughed helplessly, seeing Graves’ lips
"That oughta hold him. Mister Graves," he heard. stretch taut over his yellow teeth, and tried to shift his head.
His total energies seemed focused in his eyes as he It was as though a half-dead fly was dragging slowly across
searched for their faces. That was Graves, the other two his face, and a bomb seemed to burst within him. Blasts of
wore hospital uniforms. He was poised between two poles hot, hysterical laughter tore from his chest, causing his eyes
of fear and hate as he heard the one called Graves saying, to pop, and he felt that the veins in his neck would surely
"He looks kinda purty in that there suit, boys. Tm glad burst. And then a part of him stood behind it all, watching
you dropped by.” . the surprise in Graves’ red face arid his own hysteria. He
"This boy ain't crazy. Mister Graves,” one of the others thought he would never stop, he would laugh himself to
said. "He needs a doctor, not us. Don’t see how you led us (death. It rang in his ears like Jefferson’s laughter and he
‘ way out here anyway. It might be a joke to you, but your looked for him, centering his eye desperately upon his face.

/
\
172 Ralph Ellison Flying Home 173

as though somehow he had become his sole salvation in an bird liquidly calling. He raised his eyes, seeing a buzzard
insane world of outrage' and humiliation. It brought a "cer­ poised unmoving in space. For a moment the whole after­
tain relief. He was suddenly aware that although his body noon seemed suspended, and he waited for the horror to
was still contorted, it was an echo that no longer rang in his seize him again. Then like a song within his head he heard
ears. He heard Jefferson’s voice with gratitude. the boy’s soft humming and saw the dark bird glide into the
"Mister Graves, the army done tole hiiti not to leave, his sun apd glow like a bird of flaming gold.
airplane.”
"Nigguh, army or no, you gittin’ off my land! That air­
plane can stay ’cause it was paid for by taxpayers’ rfioney. ^
But you gittin’ off. An’ dead or alive, it don’t make no differ­
ence to me.”
Todd was beyond it now, lost in a world of anguish*.
"Jeff,” Graves said. "You and Teddy come and grab holt. I
want you to take this here black eagle over to that nigguh
airfield and leave him.”
Jefferson and the boy approached him silently. He looked
away, realizing and doubting at once that only they, could
release him from his overpowering sense of isolation.
They bent, for the stretcher. One of the attendants moved
toward Teddy .
"Think you can manage it, boy?”
"I think I can, suh,” Teddy said.
"Well, you better go behind then, and let yb pa go ahead
so’s to keep that leg elevated.”
He saw’the white men walking ahea.d as Jefferson-and the
boy carried him alorig in silence. Then they were pausing,
and he felt, a hand wiping his face, then he was moving
again. And it was as though he had been lifted opt of his
isolation, back into the world of men. A new current of
communication flowed between the man and boy and him­
self. They moved him gently. Far away he heard a mocking-
By W.H. Auden