the Territory, but the bank sported two. Miller was furious for weeks.”
As the conversation continued, Lee had questions of his own for Garrett, such as what he did for a living, how life back East was faring for members of the race, and the future plans for the newspaper.
“I’m a carpenter by trade and frankly, my father’s paper is not very successful. He’s determined to keep at it, but sundown papers can be difficult to keep afloat.” He saw Lee’s confusion and explained as he had to Spring. “Sundowns are newspapers worked on after the editor gets home from his day job.”
Lee nodded his understanding. “What’s your father’s occupation?”
“He’s the doorman at one of the white hotels. He couldn’t take the time off to travel here, so he sent me instead.”
“Those are prestigious positions for men like us.”
“True. He was a coachman during slavery, so he knows how to conduct himself, even if the guests sometimes forget we’re free now.” His father was often infuriated by the more bigoted encounters such as those who slurred him for not opening the door fast enough, or accused him of ogling their wives. But as Lee pointed out, it was a prestigious position and the pay provided his parents a comfortable life when compared to those forced to live hand to mouth by picking rags, or shoveling horse manure from the streets.
Lee said, “When I was in Washington, the most coveted jobs were low-level patronage positions at places like the post office.”
“That’s still true, but most people lack the necessary political connections with the Republican party to secure one.”
They talked for a short while longer and when they were done, Garrett was pleased. “I think I have all I need for now,” he said, closing his journal. “Would it be possible to accompany you on some of your doctor visits? I’d respect your patients’ privacy and not get in your way.”
“I’m sorry, no, but I can let you attend the visits I make with animal patients.”
“Animal patients?”
“Yes. We don’t have a local veterinarian, so I do what I can to help with ailing stock and pets.”
Garrett found that intriguing. “My father’s readers might be very interested in that side of your practice.” He certainly was.
“Then if you’re still in town when I go out, you’re welcome to come along.”
Garrett stood and the men shook hands. “Thanks, Dr. Lee.”
“Thank you for coming all this way. Makes a man feel important.”
On his walk back to Dovie’s, Garrett thought back to his interview with Colton Lee. The doctor was impressive not only for his accomplishments, but also for not looking down his nose at him for having been enslaved. Some freeborn people did, and back East it often influenced how you were perceived for things like employment and your social circle.
As a former slave and a lowly carpenter, he’d never been invited to the homes of many of the people holding the coveted government jobs he and Lee briefly discussed. Although not everyone wrapped themselves in the born-free snobbery, there were those who did. His father was a bit of a social climber. Being a coachman had given him a status lacked by those who labored in the fields. In his mind, being a doorman offered the same elevated rank, but his past enslavement often barred him from the higher social circles he wanted to be a part of.
It was one of the reasons he was pushing for Garrett to marry Emily Stanton. Her father, Henry, a celebrated chef at the same hotel, was a descendant of people free since the Revolutionary War, and so was accepted in the rarefied places his father was not. The two men were longtime friends, and the Stantons occasionally invited Garrett’s parents to dinner. Mr. Stanton looked upon Garrett as someone he wouldn’t mind his daughter marrying if she could be convinced to do so, and if Garrett returned to the practice of law.
Garrett loved his father, but he refused to be a pawn to further his social ambitions. Creating furniture and working with his uncle Quincy to build homes held all the satisfaction he needed in life. The feel of the tools, the scent of the wood, and turning that wood into something functional and often pleasing to the eye, was a joy difficult to convey. His uncle understood; his father did not. Garrett respected his father’s desire for a son who championed the law; the race needed such men, but it wasn’t his calling. Being enslaved, who he