Good! Good-Good-Good! Yeah.
- Get out of the corner - Finish it off, finish it off
That's enough. That's enough.
Next week, West Point.
Oh, come on, Doc. That guy's got five pounds on me.
But he's slow. You can take him easy.
Besides, the coach of Pitt is gonna be there. He's a buddy of mine.
I want him to see you fight.
- So? - So?
Once he sees your stuff, and once I tell him about your grades,
I'm pretty sure he'll offer you a scholarship.
I can't go to Pitt! My father wants me to go to Howard.
- He's an optician, your dad? - Used to be.
He lost his business in the Depression.
Well, look, Coleman. Just box for the guy, that's all.
- Then we'll see what happens. - Okay
One thing.
When you meet the guy from Pitt, don't tell him you're colored, okay?
- Don't tell him? - Don't bring it up.
You're neither one thing nor the other. You're Silky Silk, that's all.
- He won't know? - How's he going to know?
Here's the top kid from East Orange High and he's with Doc Chizner.
He's going to think you're Jewish.
- You're late! - I know.
- Walter's home on leave. - Hide this for me, will you?
Sorry I'm late.
Hey, Mom.
- Walt. - Cole.
- How are you? - Fine.
So what's this I hear about you being class valedictorian?
It's all true.
Hey, with the only 4.0 grade average, who else were they going to choose?
Yes, we're very proud of Coleman.
- May I inquire how you did, Cole? - How I did?
Today in the boxing ring.
I'm asking whether you won or lost your bout.
- Did you tell him? - Kindly answer my question.
I won.
How many fights have you won?
Eleven.
And how many have you lost?
- None. - So far.
Just when were you planning on turning professional?
- Dad, I don't think - This does not concern you, Walter.
I asked you a question, young man.
Doc says I could get an athletic scholarship.
Maybe to Pitt.
Like Walter, you will go to Howard.
And after Howard, should you choose to become a doctor,
you will not be doing your hands any good
pummeling them in a boxing ring, will you?
You know, Coleman, if I were your father, do you know what I would tell you now?
- You are my father. - I'm not at all sure.
I was thinking Doc Chizner was your father.
He's my coach. That's all.
He teaches me how to fight. You're my father.
Well, if I were your father, do you know what I would tell you now?
I would say, "You won today. Good.
Now you can retire undefeated."
You're retired.
If you'll excuse me, I don't wish to be late for my train.
Boy!
Yes, sir?
This fish is overcooked.
Very sorry. I will attend to it right away, sir.
Cowards die many times before their death.
The valiant only taste death but once.
Of all the rumors that I yet have heard,
it seems to me most strange that men should fear
seeing that death, a necessary end,
will come when it will come.
Clarence Silk knew well these words from Julius Caesar.
He was a man of great intellect,
unflinching courage, and an uncompromising honor.
But above all else, he was devoted to his family.
His wife, Dorothy, his sons, Walter and Coleman,
and his pride and joy, young Ernestine.
Clarence Silk was the finest man I've ever met.
Coleman?
You're on duty? Tonight?
It's better this way. For me, anyway.
I never knew him, Mom.
Not really.
I didn't have any idea what he went through
day after day after day.
I don't believe he wanted you to know, dear.
He couldn't see the point.
The point is
if you're colored
it doesn't matter how much you know. You work in the dining car.
He did that so you wouldn't have to.
Coleman, you don't have to worry.
Your father's insurance and your academic record
will see to it that you get into Howard.
I heard all about Howard from Walt.
He said they're always talking about the Negro people
about "we, the Negro people."
I'm not a political person, Mom. I don't understand who this "we" is.
Who do you think you are?
- I know who I am. - You need to be proud of your race.
What about me?
What about just being proud of being me?
It's my life. Or don't I get any say in the matter?
Coleman, I'm not clever enough to argue with you.
Then don't. Don't let's argue.
I love you, Mom. But don't ask me to go there.
Coleman, you're barely eighteen years old.
What are you going to do?
Have a seat.
You have a registration card?
Yes.
Welcome to the Navy, young man.
So what did the lawyer say?
He was more worried about Lester Farley?
Yeah. I don't want to talk about Lester Farley.
Anyway, I can handle him.
Coleman, you yourself told me that Lester Farley is a psychotic
who's been locked up in the mental ward at the VA hospital. Twice!
Let me ask you something.
What do you think would have happened last night
if the police hadn't shown up when they had?
Lester Farley is not going to just disappear off the face of the earth.
This kind of thing is going to happen again,
and when it does, next time uh, you might not be so lucky.
So... I just throw her to the wolves. It's just like that, huh?
I'm not thinking about her. I'm thinking about you.
Nathan. She's waiting for that. To her, sex and betrayal are synonymous.
Coleman, every mistake a man can make usually has a sexual accelerator.
The things that restore you can also destroy you.
Yeah, I know that.
And I'll tell you something. I don't give a damn.
These things don't come without a cost.
Look-Look what's happening here.
People are saying that you got her pregnant
and she had an abortion and tried to kill herself.
Uh-huh. And what else are they saying, Nathan?
Hm? What else are they saying, Nathan?
Don't you look at me like that.
I know this is bullshit. I'm your friend, remember?
Then act like a friend!
Stop judging me, and stop judging her!
Jesus Christ!
So what do you want me to say?
I just want you to acknowledge that
something important is taking place between me and this woman.
Something that's worthy of respect.
I guess you were right. This really is about great sex.
Oh, fuck you, too.
Coleman! Coleman.
Okay.
Granted, she's not my first love. Granted, she's not my great love.
But she sure as hell is my last love.
Doesn't that count for something?
Enough to risk getting killed for?
I'm not afraid of dying, Nathan.
I'm not the one who ran off to a cabin in the woods to hide.
Dance for me.
One dance, for me.
Sure. Why not?
Why not?
Don't fall in love with me, Coleman.
We're just a man and a woman, in a room, alone, right here, right now.
Nothing else matters. Don't fuck it up.
This is more than sex.
No, it's not. You just forgot what sex is.
Did I?
Dance for me. Come on.
You're way too young for me.
I need a man much older than you. Someone at least a hundred.
You know anyone in a wheelchair?
I will do whatever you want.
How many times
have you heard a woman say that and really mean it?
I see you, Coleman.
You want to know what I see?
I see anger.
And I see shame.
- I see everything. - Is that a fact?
- You imagine you kept secrets from me? - You never know.
Thank you.
- Mr. Wilson, can you watch the register? - Yeah.
Can I help you?
Yes. Um...
I was looking for Rachmaninoff's Third Piano Concerto, the, uh...
- The Horowitz recording? - Yes, that's right.
Right this way.
Did you go to East Orange High School?
Yes. Yes, I did.
I thought you looked familiar. Charley Hamilton's my cousin.
I haven't seen him in a while. How's he been?
He's good. He's good. Actually, I think he's getting married.
Good for him. Now the Rachmaninoff please.
Is that your girlfriend?
Yes. Yes it is. Look,
maybe I should come back some other time
- and then we can talk, okay? - Fine. Here.
That'll do the trick a lot better than Rachmaninoff.
Dance for me.
That has got to be the single most sexy dance
ever danced by a girl from Fergus Falls
in the history of the world.
I love you.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
I want to spend my life with you.
What are you doing Sunday?
Nothing. Why?
On Sunday
we're taking the train to New Jersey
to have dinner with my mother.
Okay.
Okay?
I'd like that.
Oh, I hope she likes me.
I hope the chocolates are okay.
Chocolates'll be fine.
Maybe I should have gotten flowers.
There was a place back at the station I could get
Chocolates will be fine. And you'll be fine.
Okay.
You know, this is my old paper route.
That's where I crashed my bike into Mr. Harris' front porch.
Which one?
Right over there. My father made me pay for the damage.
To the bike and the porch.
Uh... I'm scared.
I love you.
You know that, don't you?
I love you, too.
Hi.
Sorry we're late.
Mother, this is Steena Paulsson.
Steena, this is my mother.
How lovely. Please come in.
It's quite a beautiful city, Fergus Falls.
It's quite unusual, because we have the Otter Tail Lake
and the Otter Tail River very close to each other.
My father owns a small hardware supply store, a lumberyard there.
He's the disorganized one.
He cuts himself and doesn't even bother to wash it.
They're tough, those Icelanders.
I actually didn't even know they were called Icelanders, growing up.
My mother, she's a Rasmussen. She's the opposite.
Sets the table for Saturday dinner at five the night before.
I guess I was sort of caught between the two extremes and so
I decided to get away for college out of their reach, so to speak.
And that's how I came to New York.
I've never been to the Midwest, but I'm sure I'd like it.
Coleman, wouldn't you like to see the Midwest?
New York City. Final destination Penn Station, Neew York City.
Steena?
Honey, we're almost there.
Honey.
I can't do this, Coleman.
I love you.
I love you, but I can't.
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Saint Nicholas Arena.
Tonight, in our opening battle, from East Orange, New Jersey
weighing a hundred and sixty-two pounds, Coleman "Silky" Silk!
A record five wins and no losses!
From Rochester, New York, weighing a hundred and seventy pounds,
Sugar "Pete" Cunningham!
A record six wins, one loss.
Take it easy with the guy, okay?
Let's give the people their money's worth.
Dance him around for three, four rounds, then go to work.
Hey, kid. Hey!
I asked you nicely to give folks their money's worth.
You could have stopped the forth round instead of the first.
I'm a hundred and sixty-two pounds. He's a hundred and seventy.
I'm supposed to let him hit me in the head
five, ten, extra times to put on a show?
I ain't holding up no nigger.
It's beautiful, isn't it?
I have to go.
Stay tonight.
Mm-mm.
No. I never stay.
Just this once.
Hi. Good morning.
Would you like some breakfast?
Uh... Eggs Benedict and ham?
Sit down. Please.
Coffee?
No milk, huh?
There you go. Okay.
Looks like Monica Lewinsky isn't going to
get a job in New York for the time being.
Can't you avoid the fucking seminar?
I don't give a fuck if Monica can't find a job.
Does fucking Monica care if my back hurts from milking those fucking cows?
Does she fucking care that I have to clean up other people's shit
in the fucking post office?
You think losing your fucking job
when you're about to retire is a big deal, don't you, Coleman? I mean...
No... I hate to tell you, but it ain't!
Having your stepfather put his fingers in your cunt, that's a big deal.
Having your husband come up behind you with an iron pipe
and hit you in the fucking head, that is a fucking big deal!
Having your two kids suffocating and dying!
That is a big fucking deal!
Don't you ever fucking talk to me about that.
Because you don't fucking know!
I knew I shouldn't have stayed.
It was a mistake.
It was a big mistake.
Even whores know better. They know.
Men don't pay you to sleep with them. They pay you to fucking go home.
Hey, there. Hey, Prince.
Yeah, it's me.
You remember me, don't you? It's Faunia.
Did you forget me?
I wanted to come and see you, but I couldn't.
Hi.
I haven't seen you in... it must be three, four, months.
Prince missed you. He got out the other day.
The other birds attacked him. They would've killed him.
He doesn't have the right voice.
It's because he's hand-raised.
He's been hanging around people like us all his life.
A crow that doesn't know how to be a crow.
The first time I tried, it was a month after they died.
I got all dressed up.
Even my mother would have been proud.
You know I called her?
I did.
Called her to tell her my kids were dead.
Mom, it's Faunia.
Twenty years. No call for twenty years.
She said, "Oh, I don't know anybody by that name" and hung up.
Bitch.
Why did they have to break the door down?
Even the nurse said... She said later, there wasn't a heartbeat.
Not when they first showed up. Not a heartbeat.
Why couldn't they let me die?
Couldn't even get that right, could I?
No.
I think I made a mistake this morning.
Faunia Farley, custodial staff, you know?
Just, uh... just doing my thing.
So where were you?
- I was starting to get worried. - I walked around. Went to a movie.
Listen, I'm...
I'm sorry.
Everything that I said, and everything that I did, I...
You were right. What happened to me is nothing.
No. You lost everything. You lost your wife, you lost your job.
They took your life away from you over a stupid, pissy little word.
- That's not nothing. - Maybe.
I don't think you can measure sorrow.
Yeah
I brought you these. They're doughnuts.
They're from the... from the doughnut store. Jelly.
Listen, if you don't want me, if you want me to go, you know,
then I understand that because...
I understand and I won't blame you.
- What are you smiling at? - Just so happy to see you.
Same here. I'm happy, too.
Listen, there's something I need to tell you.
It seemed impossible to me
that someone as vital as Coleman
could have been killed in what the police called,
a freak accident.
The more I thought I about it, the more I began to feel that
Coleman and Faunia could not have died without the presence,
somewhere nearby, of Lester Farley and his pickup truck.
At what point did you get in your truck that morning?
Before sunup.
- Why did you get in your truck? - To get him.
- To get who? - The Jew professor.
- Why were you going to get him? - Because I had to.
You were going to kill him?
Oh, yes. All of us.
That was the plan.
- There was planning, then. - There was no planning.
- Uh, but you knew what you were doing. - Yes.
But you didn't plan it?
No.
- Did you think you were back in Vietnam? - No Vietnam.
Were you thinking about the kids? Was this payback?
No payback.
Weren't you trying to get revenge to take revenge for that?
No. No revenge
- Were you depressed? - No. No depression.
- Angry? - No more anger.
But you drove your truck into their car.
I didn't kill them.
They killed themselves.
- What do you think? - I checked with the police and
there are no skid marks at the site of the accident,
no sign of a collision.
I think Lester Farley is delusional.
Completely delusional.
My name is Herbert Keble.
And I am among those who failed to rise to Coleman's defense
when he was accused of racism.
Coleman, I can't be with you on this.
That is what I said to my everlasting shame.
I should have spoken up to say then what I want to say now
in the presence of his former colleagues
that the alleged misconduct never took place.
Coleman Silk and his wife, Iris,
were betrayed by the moral stupidity
of a censorious and coercive community.
And I was a part of that community.
We all were.
Mrs. Keble.
My name is Nathan Zuckerman. I was a friend of Coleman's.
- I thought your husband's speech was - I'm not Mrs. Keble.
Are you?
I'm Coleman Silk's sister.
Iris. Nice name. And when is the happy day?
June 14th.
Have you told her?
When will you?
You plan on bringing her home for dinner?
I told her my parents are dead.
Dead?
You have no brother? You have no sister?
There's no Ernestine? There's no Walter?
I don't want to be Coleman Silk, the Negro Classics professor.
And that's how it would always come out, Mom.
You know it, and I know it.
Funny, I never thought of you as black or white.
Gold. You were my golden child.
Look, Mom...
I haven't figured the whole thing out yet.
Will you have children?
Yes, I suppose so.
You aren't going to let them see me, are you?
My grandchildren.
Mom, you'll tell me
sit in the waiting room in Penn Station at 11:15 a.m.
I'll walk by with my kids in their Sunday best.
That'll be my birthday present five years from now.
And you know I'll be there.
But aren't you taking a risk having children?
The suspense will be unbearable.
Suppose they don't pop out of her womb as white as you?
Won't you have some explaining to do?
Will you accuse her of adultery with a Negro?
I have to go now, Mom.
Coleman
you think like a prisoner.
You're white as snow and you think like a slave.
Murderer.
- Is that the doorbell? - I'll get it.
Don't you ever come near Mom again.
You don't call, you don't write, you don't nothing.
I never want to see your lily-white face again.
And your mother obeyed Walter.
All the Silk men, from my father on down, are very decisive.
Yes, she did it. But I didn't.
I was trying to reach him two days ago. It was his birthday.
The day after he was killed.
I don't blame Walter. He was only trying to protect Mother.
And was he successful?
Just before she died, she was delirious.
She kept saying, "Oh, nurse, get me to the train.
I've got a sick baby at home."
Did you know why your brother resigned from the college?
I gather he was accused of racism.
That beats it all, doesn't it?
For using the word "spooks."
Sounds like from what I heard today, almost anything goes nowadays.
People are just getting dumber
but more opinionated.
You know what's sad, Mr. Zuckerman?
Nowadays, it's hard to imagine
that anyone would do what Coleman felt he had to do.
Constructing his whole life around a lie.
Coleman could have stopped that racism charge in its tracks,
if he'd only told the truth.
But that's the one thing he couldn't do.
Do you think he ever told anyone?
Maybe.
Maybe someone.
So finally, I guess my mother was right.
I wanted to be free, but I became a prisoner instead.
And you never told anyone?
Not even my wife. She...
I have not said a word about it to anyone until tonight.
I haven't told anyone until... you.
Why me? Why did you tell me now?
It was during my conversation with Ernestine
that I decided to write this book.
A book that Coleman couldn't write himself.
The story of his mother and father,
of Walter and Ernestine,
of Steena Paulsson
and of Faunia Farley.
Who ran from a world of privilege
just as Coleman had run from a world bound by race
And finally, there was one thing I had to do.
Beautiful spot.
It's peaceful.
Long as I can keep it secret.
Only now I know.
- You're the writer, aren't you? - That I am.
Any luck?
Not much.
What do you think about out here when the fish aren't biting?
I was thinking if I had a son, he'd be out here with me now, fishing.
That's what I was thinking about when you walked out here.
What kind of books you write?
I write about people like you.
Their problems.
You live at Mike Dumouchel's place, right?
The cabin on the lake.
What's the name of one of your books?
The Human Stain.
- Can I get it? - It's not finished.
I'll send you a copy.
You know, I started ice fishing after my wife left me.
All you need is warm clothes and the right equipment.
Like this auger.
You drill a hole through the ice.
This'll cut through just about anything.
Then you drop your line with your favorite lure right through.
Any flash down there, fish are attracted, even in the dark.
And it's way dark down there.
And if I had a son
little Les, a son of my own,
I reckon I'd be telling him all this stuff instead of you.
- It's cold out here. - You better believe it.
I should be going.
Yeah, well, you know your ice fishing now, don't you?
- You can put it in your book. - I will.
And you know my secret place.
You know everything now, don't you, Mr. Zuckerman?
But you won't tell, will you?
And, hey!
The book. Send me one.
It's in the mail.