"Well, if I'm
not intruding on you and interfering with your sleep, I'd like you to be my
guest at church." It was a hesitant, strangely poignant invitation.
I said. "Appreciate that." Then, musing aloud, "Is your church
it's integrated," Wilson said.
I attended Sunday
School class at the Allen Temple Christian Methodist Episcopal Church where we
read Corinthians and men debated whether sin began with taking a drink or
getting drunk. The issue still lay in doubt when services began. The
congregation sang Come, Thou Almighty King. Wilson, the finance chairman of the
church, supervised the passing of collection plates. Pastor Strayhand preached
and chanted on life's decisions. After services, scores of people came up to
shake my hand and bid me welcome. All of them were black.
At dinner Wilson
said, "You remember when you asked if my church was integrated?"
"You told me
"What I meant
was that God don't know no color."
Then we were back
to baseball again. Artie asked me what was happening in Seattle.
have their dome, Danny Kaye and Les Smith have the franchise, and for the first
few years the team there will be terrible."
"Is there any
chance they might hire Leo to manage?"