Excerpt from "Doc Rogers"

Doctor Charles "Doc" Rogers, D.D., was home in bed, but he couldn't sleep. He folded his hands behind his head and smiled at the dark ceiling. The thundering applause from his speech to the Southeastern Black Congress a few hours earlier was still ringing in his ears. As keynote speaker, he announced that, after extensive study, the time had come for the blacks to demand a separate black nation as their fair share of the United States. It could be done by converting eight Southeastern states to an independent black nation to be called "New Georgia". He used as examples the attempt by Quebec to secede from Canada because of cultural differences and the independent status of the South American countries. He didn't tell them that the other leaders of the committee were Dr. Melvern "Big Red" Duncan, Ph.D., and Banker William "Willie" Simpson. He did announce that the organizing committee contained prominent black leaders who would be identified later.

The meeting room was filled to capacity with black professional and business leaders. At first they were stunned into silence at the announcement, then erupted into a frenzy of cheering, howling, shrieking, yelling and screaming their approval of the idea. The general chaos, the likes of which he had never seen or heard before, lasted a full ten minutes before order was restored. Even after the general noise had died down, everybody was smiling and drinking toasts to each other and to the dais. For all practical purposes, the speech had ended there. During the celebration, several people tried to charge the stage in their exuberance, presumably to give Doc a ride around the hall on their shoulders. He managed to elude them by standing among his friends who surrounded him as security.

It took two hours for him to get away from the hall after the speech and home to Lida. She was asleep and hardly moved as he eased himself into bed beside her.

He had been lying there for quite a while when he turned over, being careful not to wake her, and reached for his glasses on the bedside table. He held them up to his eyes with the ear pieces folded to read the red numbers on the electric clock, then laid them back on the table. It was three twenty-five in the morning and Doc was wide awake.

He had dropped the bombshell of a idea on them midway through the speech. They were still yelling "Rogers for President" as he made his way out of the side door well after midnight. They were delighted that a credible, highly respected individual, armed with statistics and a data study, was ready and willing to argue that the black population had grown to sufficient size and sophistication to have its own nation.

Lida continued to snore gently by his side. He turned toward her slowly, sliding his body close to her sleeping form. He put his arm across her body and she slid her hips a little closer to him. Her body fit perfectly next to his. After thirty-five years of marriage, she was still a bride to him. He loved to touch her and feel her soft textured skin. She was more than a wife and companion, she was a friend and lover. He took long breaths, trying to match her breathing, hoping that by doing so, he could also get to sleep. After a few minutes he gave up and turned on his back. Again, he folded his hands behind his head as the soft sounds of the night took over his thoughts. Somewhere in the distance a dog was barking as if it was unsure of itself, probably at a shadow. It wasn't the frantic bark of a dog under attack. Doc remembered that from his youth on the farm. The barking dog was followed a few moments later by the distant sound of a train whistle, deep and mournful. The tracks were miles away so the whistle was soft. For a moment, he wondered where the train was going.

His memory slipped back to his boyhood. He remembered hearing trains at night on the farm and fantasizing that they were traveling to all the wonderful places in the picture magazines. He decided then that one day he would ride on one of those trains and go to all those exotic places.

He was the ninth son of a tenant farmer in the rural south, one of a family of eleven children. His future wife, Lida Smiley, had gone to the same high school where they met and became inseparable. She had been beside him every step of his career, encouraging him, helping him learn his sermons and researching for him on occasion when he was in danger of quoting the wrong passage of the Bible as the gospel. All the while loving him and taking care of their children while he concentrated on his work. It was difficult for a small-time country preacher, serving three rural churches at one time, to make ends meet.

During those early years he also worked on a dairy farm, getting up at two-thirty in the morning to milk and feed cows. After he finished at noon, he would go home, change clothes and visit his parishioners. Many times he would not get home until nine or ten o'clock at night, only to get up four hours later to go to work. Lida would keep his dinner hot on the wood stove, and rub his shoulders as he collapsed into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Tonight, as he lay there, scanning the highlights of a career that had brought him to last evening, he was pleased with his accomplishments thus far. The dream of traveling to far away places had not come true because his career demanded most of his time. The little that was left went to his family. He wondered if his family had suffered because of his dedication to his profession. They had all of the comforts needed to give them a good life, and he had made sure that they had opportunities beyond those he had while growing up. As for his dreams, he had long ago relegated most of them way down the list of important milestones in his life. It all looked different now that he was grown. After last night, it was apparent that his secret dreams were even further down the list. Destiny would be in control from this day forward.

He considered it good to have a bit of boyhood memory to hang on to in the early hours of sleepless mornings, like now. It gave him humility and the awareness that he was still just a country boy at heart, but the word "President" struck a harmonious chord within his breast that had never been there before. It might not come true, but he had traveled a long and arduous route to get here. It had been fifty years since a little black boy, looking at pretty pictures in an old magazine with dog-eared pages, would go to bed and dream about all of the wonderful places. He wasn't aware then that he would not be welcome at many of those places because of his skin color. He was living in ignorant bliss.

Many times as he grew older, he had called upon those memories to keep himself unpretentious and let himself accept the leadership role that fate had thrust upon him. It was hard to resist the temptation to drink from the cup of adulation that was constantly placed in front of him by an adoring congregation and not reflect an attitude of superiority. Aggression was not in his character. He wanted the love of his family and congregation above all else, and it looked like he had expanded that audience considerably last night.

He fell into a deep, fatigued sleep while repeating the driving phrase of his philosophy over and over in his mind, "Necessity knows no law."

Doc was a fine looking man. His fifty-eight years sat well on his 180-pound frame. His full head of gray hair and neat mustache, kept expertly shaped by weekly trips to the barber, made him look distinguished. He had always kept in good physical shape, not allowing himself to get fat. He stood erect and when talking to people, looked directly into their eyes, showing keen interest in what the other person had to say. That characteristic added to his good personality and caused him to be extremely well-liked by his parishioners. He usually dressed in a dark suit and white shirt with a clerical collar.

He and Lida were a handsome couple. She usually dressed in brightly-colored clothing and fashionable accessories. With her well-proportioned figure, she looked good in her clothes. Doc was proud of her and showed her off at every opportunity. She was nearly as tall as Doc and always had a ready smile. She was admired by the ladies of the congregation, mostly wives of the more affluent members of the black community.

It was well past sunup when he thought he heard the phone ringing but he couldn't wake enough to answer it. Lida finally picked up the receiver and said sleepily, "Pastor's residence."

A deep rolling voice asked, "Lida, this is Red. Is Doc awake yet?"

She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. Her mouth was dry. "What time is it, Red?" she asked without answering his question or looking at their own clock.

"It's getting on close to six-thirty. I need to talk to Doc if he's awake."

She looked around at the sleeping Doc. "He's still asleep, Red. I don't believe he slept much last night. Where are you? I'll have him call you as soon as he wakes."

As Red started to answer, he heard the smooth baritone voice of the pastor in the background asking who was calling. Red went silent and waited while Lida explained to Doc.

Lida said, "Hold on, Red, he's awake now. Here he is."

She handed the phone to Doc saying, "Red seems anxious to talk to you for some reason."

Doc took the phone and said gruffly, "Why are you calling me in the middle of the night, Red?"

Red laughed. "I'll bet you never slept till the middle of the morning on that dairy farm."

Doc managed a feeble laugh. "You've got that right. I would have milked forty cows by now, but that's not why you called. What do you want?"

"Just to tell you that I drove past the church a few minutes ago and there are two television trucks sitting there waiting for you, so I drove on out to your house and there is one sitting in your driveway. Just thought you ought to know, because they're going to ambush you as soon as you get your pants on."-----

Ed Note:  This incredible novel could be prophetic.  The concept was born in the mind of the profilic writer and political pundit while he was working on his nonfiction book "The Nation's Party Concept."  Boone has given considerable thought to the seperation of several states from the present union because of general dissatisfaction with the system.