I AM THE AMERICAN NEGRO
(A sequence to be imagined)
A very small, dark lad dressed in a linen robe of dazzling whiteness stands speaking on a busy corner. Passers-by gaze at him curiously. Some stop while others hurry on, but his voice carries his words evenly until he has finished.
"Amid the colossal cacaphoniesthe strident symphoniesof your sprawling steel millsof your star-snatching skyscrapersof your bellowing freights and expressesof your rich-loamed farm landsof your lusty cities and your crawling townsamid your frenzied hallelujahsto a mighty masqueraderto a robot of levers and wiresyou call either God or ProgressI lift up my small voice . . . .I, a numerical nonentityin your already forgottentwelve million brown stepchildren . . . .Will you listen awhile?There is much I would say."
***
The scene vanishes.
Now is shown the interior of a tall temple in semi-darkness. The dim figure of a giant of indeterminate brown, his
