'The River'
Blood Brother Chronicles
Volume 1
by
T. Beaulieu
Copyright 2015 T. Beaulieu,
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-2618-1
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
To ‘Skeeter’
I’ll never forget the day you gave me ‘permission’ to tell your story. I hope I have done the life you lead justice.
Though you never made it to Harlem, though my heart and mind there will always be jazz and cold booze, as well as a pretty smile waiting for you in the ‘Black Mecca’.
Thank you for choosing me for this journey.
To Zora Neale Hurston
The very first book I ever read in this life was
“Their Eyes Were Watching God”. For a 10 year old, this masterpiece opened my eyes to the world of books like none other. As a writer, I hoped one day that I would write a book that was as honest and raw, yet haunting and beautiful in so many ways.
Even to this day, I pick up my copy every few months, usually reading passages out loud to myself, feeling Janie’s essence all through my soul.
I love and adore you Ms. Hurston Thank You.
To Christian Kane
You put your heart into ‘Eliot’, a killer whom found his
soul through the eyes of those that he helped along the way, as well as others that saw him for whom he was. A kind hearted soul needing redemption.
If you should ever read this book, I can only hope you see a little bit of your warmth, caring and humanity in ‘Slick. A man that was deeply flawed, but loved just as great.
I hope this book only adds to your accolades as a talented actor, singer and humanitarian.
Maybe one day, over a well written ‘The River’ script and a few beers, we can discuss the God’s beautiful universe.
From one spirit brother to another.
Thank You.
To My Family
No words are needed. The type of love we share can’t be written down. Its simply too sacred.
(stop growling at me Jimmy LOL!) Love Yall
To My Readers:
I started the journey of storytelling unsure and insecure. Many of your kind words have changed that, making me the writer that I am and will be in the future.
I have spoken with so many of you in the past, seeing how my imagination has given so many of you that ‘fire’ to do in life what brings you great joy.
I have to admit, there are times when alone, I have cried. Not out of sorrow, but of joy, knowing that other human beings
understand.
Thank you for letting me into your hearts, minds and souls.
I promise, as long as I continue to be a story teller, that I will always be honest and do my very best.
As one of my elders says -
“Being a storyteller of your tribe is an important responsibility.
You are passing along the words and spirits of those that made way for you. In doing so, you give new life to
where there was only emptiness.
Providing a heartbeat for those that still have so much to say.”
All of you are a part of my literary ‘tribe’ Thank You.
Preface
It all started when I found a snapshot when I was about 12 years of age. In a photo album full of people of color, indigenous and black, and some that are in between, a photo of ‘white’ men made me look twice.
There was something about it that stood out.
After some time, I asked around my large family. All I got was that the two men on the far left of the dog eared photo were half brothers.
That was that.
The more I asked, the more cryptic my elders became, some even getting angry, asking why I wanted to “open up old wounds”
As a young man, this only intrigued me even more.
Over time I started to learn more about the brothers, much I am sure has been dramatized. The stories that were told to me were detailed and colorful, tales of two men roaming through the Carolina’s as contract killers in the early 1920’s, one white, the other a creole, doing as they pleased in a time most black men could not even vote.
As more time passed, I begin to learn about Sketter and Slick, how much they meant to black and poor white people in that time, killing klans men, blowing up Klan chapters that were known to have killed the innocent and protecting those that could not protect themselves.
Each tale captivated my imagination, allowing a sense of pride as I started to understand that the history between blacks and whites in the Deep South had many gray areas and was often glorious and beautiful, as it was cruel and dehumanizing.
As time went on, I also discovered that the men were hired killers for white businessmen, killing off business rivals. Needless to say, the folklore that surrounds these alleged gangsters is as varied as the tales I have heard about their lives, much of which is long lost.
What I do know is that these men were important to many during that time, that they were killers and both disappeared around 1931 in New York City.
No one ever heard from them again.
As an author I was hooked, hearing colorful detailed stories and folklore, many that would often last well into the wee hours, told by people that apparently admired the men.
Always
