Invisible man

            I took a step forward; it was a portrait of me looking out from a magazine page.

            "Where did that come from?" I said.

            "That's it," he boomed. "Make out like you never seen it."

            "But I haven't," I said. "I really haven't."

            "Don't lie to these white brothers. Don't lie!"

            "I'm not lying. I never saw it before in my life. But suppose I had, what's wrong with it?"

            "You know what's wrong!" Wrestrum said.

            "Look, I don't know anything. What's on your mind? You have us all here, so if you have anything to say, please get it over with."

            "Brothers, this man is a -- a -- opportunist! All you got to do is read this article to see. I charge this man with using the Brotherhood movement to advance his own selfish interests."

            "Article?" Then I remembered the interview which I had forgotten. I met the eyes of the others as they looked from me to Wrestrum.

            "And what does it say about us?" Brother Jack said, pointing to the magazine.

            "Say?" Wrestrum said. "It doesn't say anything. It's all about him. What he thinks, what he does; what he's going to do. Not a word about the rest of us who's been building the movement before he was ever heard of. Look at it, if you think I'm lying. Look at it!"

            Brother Jack turned to me. "Is this true?"

            "I haven't read it," I said. "I had forgotten that I was interviewed."

            "But you remember it now?" Brother Jack said.

            "Yes, I do now. And he happened to be in the office when the appointment was made."

            They were silent.

            "Hell, Brother Jack," Wrestrum said, "it's right here in black and white. He's trying to give people the idea that he's the whole Brotherhood movement."

            "I'm doing nothing of the sort. I tried to get the editor to interview Brother Tod Clifton, you know that. Since you know so little about what I'm doing, why not tell the brothers what you're up to."

            "I'm exposing a double-dealer, that's what I'm doing. I'm exposing you. Brothers, this man is a pure dee opportunist!"

            "All right," I said, "expose me if you can, but stop the slander."

            "I'll expose you, all right," he said, sticking out his chin. "I'm going to. He's doing everything I said, Brothers. And I'll tell you something else -- he's trying to sew things up so that the members won't move unless he tells them to. Look at a few weeks ago when he was off in Philly. We tried to get a rally going and what happens? Only about two hundred people turned out. He's trying to train them so they won't listen to no one but him."

            "But, Brother, didn't we decide that the appeal had been improperly phrased?" a brother interrupted.

            "Yeah, I know, but that wasn't it . . ."

            "But the committee analyzed the appeal and --"

            "I know, Brothers, and I don't aim to dispute the committee. But, Brothers, it just seems that way 'cause you don't know this man. He works in the dark, he's got some kind of plot . . ."

            "What kind of plot?" one of the brothers said, leaning across the table.

            "Just a plot," Wrestrum said. "He aims to control the movement uptown. He wants to be a dictator!"

            The room was silent except for the humming of fans. They looked at him with a new concern.

            "These are very serious charges, Brother," two brothers said in unison.

            "Serious? I know they're serious. That's how come I brought them. This opportunist thinks that because he's got a little more education he's better than anybody else. He's what Brother Jack calls a petty -- petty individualist!"

            He struck the conference table with his fist, his eyes showing small and round in his taut face. I wanted to punch that face. It no longer seemed real, but a mask behind which the real face was probably laughing, both at me and at the others. For he couldn't believe what he had said. It just wasn't possible. He was the plotter and from the serious looks on the committee's faces he was getting away with it. Now several brothers started to speak at once, and Brother Jack knocked for order.

            "Brothers, please!" Brother Jack said. "One at a time. What do you know about this article?" he said to me.

            "Not very much," I said. "The editor of the magazine called to say he was sending a reporter up for an interview. The reporter asked a few questions and took a few pictures with a little camera. That's all I know."

            "Did you give the reporter a prepared handout?"

            "I gave her nothing except a few pieces of our official literature. I told her neither what to ask me nor what to write. I naturally tried to co-operate. If an article about me would help make friends for the movement I felt it was my duty."

            "Brothers, this thing was arranged," Wrestrum said. "I tell you this opportunist had that reporter sent up there. He had her sent up and he told her what to write."

            "That's a contemptible lie," I said. "You were present and you know I tried to get them to interview Brother Clifton!"

            "Who's a lie?"

            "You're a liar and a fat-mouthed scoundrel. You're a liar and no brother of mine."

            "Now he's calling me names. Brothers, you heard him."