As they prepared to land, Sir Charles strapped himself into his seat, a glint in his monocled eye. ‘This is thrilling, absolutely thrilling.’
The plane bounced on to the landing strip, and they all turned a little green, but were thankful to be down and in one piece. Dewhurst’s knees gave way and he had to be helped down the stairs, constandy apologizing to Sir Charles.
‘Freda, I think I’m dying, oh God, I’m dying, my heart it’s my heart.’ Freda gave Ed a big hug and told him he could open his eyes; they had landed, everyone else had already left the plane.
‘Gawd ‘elp us, Freda, I feel as if I was still up in the clouds.’
Sir Charles had been driven into Chicago, leaving the others to wait for Ed and Freda with the longest car any of them had ever seen. It was silver, and the chauffeur wore a blue uniform. They climbed into the Cadillac limousine, and Ed flipped through the itinerary and instructed the driver to take them to the Lexington Hotel. Sir Charles, he noticed, had ‘The State’ suite in The Sherman Hotel. He still as always kept his distance, and Ed knew it would be costing more than all their rooms put together … but as His Lordship was footing the bill for the trip, it was his prerogative.
The journey into the city was almost as exciting as their voyage, once they had overcome their nervousness at travelling on the wrong side of the road. Immensely long cars whizzed by, drawing gasps of admiration. The chauffeur gazed at them through his mirror and when he spoke his accent made Freda giggle.
‘You folks from England? Well, jeez, ain’t that great, I never been outta Chicago myself; that’s the state capitol we just passed.’
He asked them endless questions, while stealing glances at the ‘black guy’ with the long hair. He thought they looked pretty scruffy, but they must have dough to be staying at the Lexington.
When they arrived at the hotel, Ed realized he had no American dollars so he had to go to the hotel bank to change his English pound notes. Two porters carried their luggage into the hotel and the limousine drove off. They pushed through the revolving doors after the porters, Freedom lagging behind as he struggled with several pieces of hand luggage, including his kitbag. The mahogany reception desk was immensely long and at least eight uniformed bellhops rushed around in the lobby, which was crowded with guests and potted palms.
The manager looked through the glass-fronted door of his office and pursed his lips. He could see the new guests checking in and didn’t like what he saw. He made a quick call to the receptionist to tell the assistant manager to come to see him immediately.
Ed couldn’t understand what was causing the delay. They were all very tired, and Edward had started to cry. Ed showed the receptionist the telegram confirming their rooms. He was beginning to get impatient as no one seemed in the slightest hurry to register them and hand over their keys.
The assistant manager, flushing beetroot red, hurried from the office, lifted the mahogany flap and slipped in behind the desk. ‘I’m afraid there has been some mistake. We only have one room booked, Mr Meadows. I cannot apologize enough, but I’m afraid the rest of your party will have to find accommodation elsewhere.’
Ed was confused as he crossed the lobby to Freedom and Evelyne to tell them of the situation. The little boy was really beginning to scream now, so Ed suggested that Freedom and Evelyne take his room; he and Freda could find another hotel. He returned to the reception desk and asked for the key for his companions to take the room.
‘I’m sorry, sir, that is not possible, I am afraid we cannot accept your companions, that is the hotel rule.’
What on earth was the man talking about? Ed’s protests grew louder and then, to his astonishment, the assistant manager pushed a card across the counter. Neatly printed on it were the words, ‘No coloureds or blacks to be allowed as guests of the Lexington Hotel.’
Ed stared at him, confused, then picked up the card and reread it. ‘What’s this got to do wiv us, for Gawd’s sake?’ Ed jabbed the manager with his finger and pushed the card forward, his voice rising as he demanded to know what was going on. He had personally sent a telegram to the hotel for two double rooms, one with a cot for a child, and now he was told there was only one room vacant and his friends couldn’t move into it. Sensing an impending explosion, the manager drew Ed quietly aside and repeated the hotel policy that no coloureds and no couples of mixed race were allowed in the hotel.
‘Mixed what? What you talkin’ about, mate, we ain’t black, what you think we are?’
The manager turned and flicked a look at Freedom, then turned back to Ed. Suddenly it was painfully clear, they thought Freedom was black. Indeed, because of the sunshine on the crossing, his dark skin was even darker. Ed spluttered and could hardly speak with rage. ‘He’s contender for the World Heavyweight boxing title, for Chrissake, he’s not black, he’s a gypsy! That don’t make him black.’
Freedom handed his son to Evelyne and began to cross the lobby towards Ed. The next moment the place was in an uproar, as Ed knocked out the manager with one punch. Ten minutes later they were on the pavement outside the hotel, Freda in tears and Ed so angry he could hardly speak.
‘We ain’t stayin’ in this dump, any of us, come on, we’ll get a taxi an’ see where there’s a better hotel.’
Freedom pulled the still furious Ed aside and asked what on earth had happened in there. Ed wouldn’t say, but he hailed a taxi and ushered them all into it.
They stopped at two more hotels and Ed went in alone to investigate, but at each one he was told, ‘No coloureds’. While he was in the second one the cabbie, who had been staring at Freedom, realized what was going on. ‘Most of da hotels around dis part of the city don’t take blacks. I know a place where maybe they’ll let you in, you want me to try there for ya?’ He hooked his arm along die back of the seat and looked enquiringly at the party in the back. They stared at him, not understanding what he was saying. He pointed to Freedom and repeated that there was a rule in the best hotels, no coloureds and no Indians. Some even refused Mexicans. A defeated Ed returned to the cab, and now that they all understood the predicament he blushed in shame for them. ‘I’m sorry, lad, I told ‘em all you wasn’t black, but they don’t believe me.’
Evelyne was silent, but as they drove off she saw in the distance a huge hotel towering above the shops and apartment buildings. The Metropole Hotel, 2300 South Michigan Avenue.
‘Driver, take us to that hotel, please, and, Ed, I want to go in this time.’ She would hear no argument, even when the cab driver tried to dissuade her, implying that the Metropole, of all hotels, would most certainly refuse them. Freedom said nothing, he was so taken aback, but the driver went on ominously about the Metropole and that he would lay odds” against their being allowed in, not just because of Freedom but for other reasons. Evelyne repeated her instruction to take them to the hotel and gripped Freedom’s hand.
As they stopped, Ed made to get out, but Evelyne wouldn’t let him move. She insisted on leaving them alone and, head high, she walked into the lobby.
‘She’ll get no joy in dere, pal, I’m tellin’ya, I know dis town an’ I know dis hotel, ya tryin’ the wrong place.’
All their eyes followed Evelyne as she walked from the cab through the revolving doors and into the ornate lobby.
Inside it was opulent, thickly carpeted, with massive ferns and palms in every corner. There was so much brass and so many chandeliers that the whole lobby seemed to glitter.
Evelyne strode to the reception desk, a long, polished counter with racks of keys and pigeonholes for letters. She had to wait for a gentleman in front of her to sign the register, a burly, fat man smoking a cigar. The clouds of smoke rose up to form a ring around his head.