Black McGraw
This story opens like every other in the blaxploitation genre: in a cell of the state prison. The first day of the new prison season. The first day back to prison.
The four men in cell 5C are discussing the various nefarious circumstances which brought them there.
Prisoner #1: “Yeah, I robbed a rapper. Stole all his furs. Turns out that nigga buys fake furs! Ten years.”
Prisoner #2: “I kidnapped a kid to collect on the ransom. Turns out it was a small grown-ass man. Twenty years.”
Prisoner #3: “I killed a nun.”
Prisoner #1: “Damn, son. That’s pretty wild. You a hard nigga.”
Prisoner #3: “Yeah. And it turns out she was three days from retirement. Life.”
Prisoner #1 hollers at Prisoner #4 sitting quietly on his bunk, reading.
“Yo blood! Whatchu in here fo?”
Prisoner #4 looks up and stares straight ahead at nothing with an intense fervor in his eye.
“Nigga stole my television.”
The other three prisoners look at each other and Prisoner #1 pipes up, “How does a nigga stealin’ your TV get you in the slammer, old head?”
Prisoner #4 shuts his book, rises off his bunk and sits in a chair facing the other three hard young gangbangers.
“I’ll tell you, my brother.”
~~~
“Before all this, I had everything. I had my club, I had my girls, I had my cash and I had my TV.
It was a beautiful box. Twenty-seven inches, black Magnavox, great reception, crystal clear quality picture, surround sound. Shiiit, even had one of them SAP buttons on the ‘mote. But I never used that, ‘cause I don’t speak the Spanish. Some of my bitches do, but I don’t.
Anyways, I had it all. Life was good. My girls were making money and therefore I was making money. Alotta people didn’t like seeing a nigga gettin’ rich; especially other niggas.
There was Spoonie Jones, the biggest pimp in the city. He used to be so poor, he couldn’t afford a fork.
There was Officer Clyde, the corruptedest cop on the force.
Even Mayor Sweetness wanted a piece of me. And not the piece most other people wanted.”
Prisoner #1 interrupts: “So which one of them niggas stole yo TV?”
Prisoner #4: “I’m gettin’ to that youngblood, damn!”
~~~
“I was on top. Ridin’ high like you young niggas. Then my outright greed and blind corruption brought me down in a hail of bullets.”
Prisoner #1: “Nah, nigga. That’s Scarface.”
Prisoner #4: “Right. Spoonie Jones brought me down, not that blind corruption shit. Spoonie wanted my club and he just took it, with a little help from Officer Clyde and Mayor Sweetness.”
Prisoner #1 nods, holding up two fingers on one hand and one on the other, “That’s all three of them.”
Prisoner #4 nods back, “Yup. They was conspiracizin’ against me from the start. One day, Officer Clyde came by my club…”
~~~
Officer Clyde knocks on the wall and enters to girls gyrating on stage to smooth seventies funk and a scant few regulars, drinks in hand in the middle of the afternoon, sad slumped and depressed.
“McGraw! You in here?”
Black McGraw comes sauntering in from a back room full of giggling as he opens and shuts the door. He smiles and holds his hand out to Officer Clyde, “Afternoon Officer.”
“Don’t patronize me, McGraw. I know what you’re up to. The Mayor does too and we’re taking you down. You can count on that. I’m bringing the Fire Marshall through here today to have a little checkup.”
The Fire Marshall begins walking the perimeter of the club, checking outlets and light fixtures. Black McGraw becomes infuriated and yells at his girls on stage, all with experience in the mysterious asian martial arts.
“Bitches! Come help me kick these honkeys’ asses!”
The girls disregard his command and continue dancing, infuriating Black McGraw even further.
“Dammit bitches!”
“What are they, hard of hearing?” a snide Officer Clyde remarks.
“Nah, just hard of helping. Lazy bitches. Only one thing they good for.”
“Fuckin’?”
“No, kung fu. They just too lazy to use it on you. Guess these fists’ll have to do.”
“Wha?”
Before Officer Clyde can comprehend what that large African-American just said, Black McGraw is on him and pummeling his face. The Fire Marshall runs up squealing and jumping up and down like a small girl, yelling in a high-pitched voice, “Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! Stop it you big black man, just stop it!”
Black McGraw stops it and gets up to scare off the Fire Marshall who squeaks and scampers toward the door yelling over his shoulder, “You need to fix those wires coming out of the ceiling!”
“I know! I’ve been meaning to get around to it!” Black McGraw hollers back as the door slams shut.
He looks down at the unconscious Officer Clyde and turns away disdainfully, yelling at his girls, “Clean up this mess, bitches!”
He comes back an hour later and his girls are still dancing, Officer Clyde still bleeding and laid out on the floor. Black McGraw looks up at the ceiling, both fists clenched and hollers, “Dammit bitches!”
~~~
Prisoner #1 leans back on the top bunk and lights an L, “Dang.”
Black McGraw nods solemnly as Prisoner #1 takes a hit and passes to Prisoner #2, “And those bitches never cleaned him up?”
Black McGraw shakes his head, “He eventually woke up early the next morning and let himself out. But the message had been sent. I wasn’t about to sit idly by and let some lily-livered sad-sack pale-faced motherfuckers run my business and run my life.”
A guard taps his baton along the cell bars, “Hey! Stop proselytizing in there!”
Prisoner #3 whips his head around, “Hey, fuck you O’Reilly!”
O’Reilly chuckles and continues his rounds, “Oh, you prisoners.”
Prisoner #1 relights the joint, “So how did Mayor Sweetness respond to you kickin’ that cop’s ass?”
“I met him at his office the next day.”
~~~
“Mr. McGraw, how do you do?”
Black McGraw stands there in a long fur coat, giant droopy fur hat, scowling at Sweetness, “Whatchu want, Mayor?”
“I want to make a deal with you Mr. McGraw. Please, sit down.”
Black slumps into a plush leather seat and continues scowling straightforward, “Make this quick, Mayor. My bitches is waitin’.”
Black McGraw’s girls are parked outside.
“Is he back yet?”
“I wanna go get my nails done.”
“Fuck this nigga, I’m drivin’ this coupe to Woolworth’s! Let’s go ladies.”
The car pulls off, the girls squealing, their hands out the windows as Black McGraw’s meeting drags on upstairs.
Mayor
Sweetness is standing behind his desk in front of the large picture window
overlooking
“Mr. McGraw, we both know you’re involved in…less-than-legal practices in your pursuit of the almighty dollar. Prostitution, pimpery, gambling, racketeering; all this takes place inside The Blackjack Lounge. We have photos, audio, video, mimeographs; all we need is a good trial lawyer. But I may be able to ignore this case entirely if you do alittle something for me.”
“I don’t make deals with the devil, Mayor.”
Black McGraw gets up to leave but one of Mayor Sweetness’ jackbooted thugs pushes him back down into his seat.
“Get your dishwashin’ hands off me, you triflin’ rifle-totin’ troubler!”
“Mr.
McGraw, relax. Hear me through. There is a large shipment entering the
“Might I ask, what’s in this package, Mr. Mayor?”
Mayor Sweetness looks out the window, trying to act casual, “Why, just some black tar heroin and some…diapers.”
“Aw no, I ain’t no drug dealer. And diapers?”
“Alright, there’s no diapers. But look, you won’t be a drug dealer, I have a man for that. You’ll merely be the drug holder.”
“I ain’t dealin’, I ain’t holdin’, are we golden, Mayor?”
Mayor Sweetness holds up his hands, “I’ve shown you the stakes Mr. McGraw, there’s nothing more I can do. Either do this little favor for me or The Blackjack Lounge is a parking lot and you’re in lockup.”
“You sorry sack of sassafrass, I oughta run you up the flagpole and right back down again. I’m leavin’ now Mayor, tell your boys to make way.”
“Make way, boys.”
Black McGraw storms downstairs and back out front where his ride is nowhere to be seen. He throws his fists up and screams so Mayor Sweetness can hear him up on the tenth floor, “Dammit bitches!”
~~~