69 Tiemann Place

Hedayat Reda

Setting: A 30-something couple has just moved to New York to pursue their dreams. He is a writer she is a therapist. This is a conversation between the couple at the end of their first month in Harlem, in their new apartment on 125th Street.

What does New York have in store for them?

69 Tiemann place apartment building entrance

Sunday Afternoon

Him: How was church?

Her: Good. I had a bit of a hard time finding the entrance, though. But I managed to get there on time- thank God.

Him: That’s great. So, you think this is the one? Have you found your congregation?

Her: I don’t know… It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. I think I liked the Baptist one from last week better. This was one of those inter-denominational ones, I think. I thought the church vibe here would be a lot more like back home. You know, warmer. More old-school and inclusive. Big on the preaching and the Gospel and the Amens. 

Him: I thought that’s what Riverside was known for? Its inclusivity.

Her: Yea but it was more inclusive in that modern way, you know? Like the preacher was LGBTQ and he was visiting from Detroit or D.C or something, and he kept talking about how at home he felt here and how he had been welcomed as a gay man.

Him: And that’s a bad thing? 

Her: No! Of course not. It’s just, he didn’t really include us, the congregation, in his sermon. He kind of made the whole sermon about him. He talked about how he grew up and found the Church and all of the efforts that had been made to include more LGBTQ people in the clergy and the exchange trips they had been on across the country. Important stuff, but I felt like he enjoyed hearing himself talk more than anything. I don’t know.

Him: Most people relate to others through their own experiences, though. Maybe he was just sharing his story.

Her: Maybe. But it didn’t feel that way. The rest of his sermon was better. He talked about treating your neighbor as yourself and some of the ways he thought we should do this. His points were good, but there was something “off” about his tone. 

Him: Well you said he’s just visiting, right? So, if you wanna go again, he probably won’t be there next time.

Her: Yea. You’re right. The church itself is really beautiful. It’s kind of gothic, with a lot of wood. I think some of the exterior is being renovated— that’s why I had a hard time finding the entrance, but the interior is gorgeous.  I met a really nice woman there, who’s part of the choir. She was really welcoming and spoke to me a bunch. I’d love to join a choir.

Riverside Church entrance
Riverside Church

Him: Yea, you definitely should. Ask if they’re holding auditions.

Her: Next time, yea. Ohhhh. Funny story.  So apparently, the whole service was being live-streamed while we were listening and there was a man tuning in from Brazil!  Isn’t that so weird? I’m sure there are churches in Brazil, too.

Him: Ha ha. Yea that is pretty weird. I guess he probably used to live here, or something. I always thought the whole point of going to church was the “meeting people”, though?

Her: It is for me. The whole reason I go is to meet new people. And be with God. Exchange blessings, intermingle, get to know the community…all of that. I couldn’t imagine not having the physical aspect of Church. That’s what makes it home.

Him: Well, maybe this was his home and he’s didn’t want to let go of it.  

Her: I get that. And I guess if they have a live-streaming option, why not.? Definitely makes things easier. But he must be missing out on a lot of experiences where he is.

Him: I don’t know. I guess it’s like me listening to the Naqshbandi Dhikr . I don’t want to look for a new Sufi order.

Her: Oh, that reminds me. There was a woman sitting next to me. You would love her. One of those old Harlem women, you know. Perfectly coiffed, wearing full fur and make-up. Even a Sunday hat. Like the woman from that photo with the couple in the racoon furs. Only she was like 80.

Couple in Harlem by James Van der Zee

Him: The Van der Zee one?

Her: Yea, that one. She knew everyone, too. The man sitting behind us. The couple on the right. The usher. The entire older generation. Like I imagine it used to be, here in Harlem.

Him: I’m sure she’s been going there a long time.

Her: Yea. It kind of made me wish I could have seen her – all of them— when they were younger. Back when Harlem was in vogue.

Him: You mean during the Harlem Renaissance?  I’m pretty sure she would be dead by now if she was alive then. Or, at least …dying.

Her: Yea. That’s the Roaring Twenties, right?

depicts popular nightclub in Harlem during the Harlem Renaissance. Example of "Roaring Twenties"
The Cotton Club popular nightclub in the Roaring Twenties

Him: Aha. You know we probably wouldn’t have been able to live here at that time. Or at least, I wouldn’t. I don’t think. Was Harlem all Black during the Renaissance?

Her: I have no idea. I know it was the Mecca for Black people, but I don’t know if only Black people lived here. Probably not. Although, if you were White, I guess you probably wouldn’t want to live there. Don’t know where your Paki ass would have stood.

Him: If you could go back there, who would you be?

Her:  I don’t know… Would I have to be a woman? I’m not sure I wanna give up any of the few rights we’ve gained.

Him: Hahaha. Of course, you would say that. I guess you can be a man. Although in contrast to many other time periods and eras I think the women of the Harlem Renaissance were pretty “free”.  You know, Zora Neale Hurston, Jessie Fauset, Bessie Smith…

Her: I love Zora. But I don’t consider getting paid $200 a month and having to sign over the legal rights to your research and work “freedom”. I’m not as familiar with Fauset and Smith. Smith was the blues singer, right?

Him: Yes, the Empress of Blues, please.

Bessie Smith, 1925
Bessie Smith

Her:  Still no.  If I went back to the Renaissance, I would want to be Countee Cullen, maybe. I love his poetry. Or Louis Armstrong. Whoever had the most fun.

Him: I’m pretty sure Louis Armstrong had a very rough childhood.

Her: Yea, we’re not talking about his childhood, though.  We’re talking about his time in New York. And Louis was definitely swingin’ in Harlem.

[imitates Louis playing the Trumpet]

Louis Armstrong playing the trumpet, 1953
Louis Armstrong

Him: Was Cullen the one that was kind of contentious? I remember reading something about him “denying his race” or something like that.

Her: Yea, Langston Hughes said that, because Cullen didn’t want to call himself a “Negro Poet” and just wanted to be called a “poet”, instead. It’s the whole art for propaganda or art for art’s sake debate again.

Him: And you don’t believe art should be used for propaganda? In order to further your race?

Her: Not in that Dubois way, hell no. He seems to have been kind of pretentious and elitist. I don’t think you need to be all declarative like that to change an agenda. I think if you’re an artist just doing your art, that’s enough. When I listen to Louis Armstrong or Duke Ellington, I understand more about Black culture than I would reading “The New Negro”, for example.

I’ve never really been moved by people who make speeches, have you?

Him: Not really. There’s a bit of an air of bullshitting that tends to happen when you’re talking about a cause. But I don’t think that was the case here. Me, I’d like to be remembered as having led a thought revolution like that, …changed the status quo.

Her: [rolls eyes]

So male. Ok, if you could be any “character” in the Harlem Renaissance who would you be?

Him: Honestly for the sake of power I’d like to be White for once. Maybe Carl Van Vechten. I know he’s often criticized for Nigger Heaven, but still, he furthered Langston Hughes’ career. Working closely with him must have been dope.

Her: The patron guy? Really?

Him: Yea, why not? He became a photographer later you know.   

Her: I can’t see you rocking that serious look.

Him: [imitates a Van Vechten expression]

Carl Van Vechten

No?

Her: Definitely not. Hahaha.

Him: Okay if not him, then Hughes. He’s who I would want to be, anyways. In real life. Without the poetry part. I suck at writing poetry.

Her: I can see that. The writing, the scripts…sounds like you. You’re even interested in a lot of the same themes. The “struggle of the everyday man”, and stuff. I’m pretty sure Langston wasn’t a revolution leader, though. I think he just wanted to document what was going on around him.

Him: I think you’re right. Art for art’s sake it is then. I will go back to my people!

Her: I think these categories are too limiting, anyways. Remember I, Too?

Him: [recites]

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.

They send me to eat in the kitchen.

When company comes,

But I laugh

And eat well,

And grow strong.

Tomorrow,

I’ll be at the table

When company comes.

Nobody’ll dare

Say to me,

“Eat in the kitchen,”

Then.

…I forgot the ending.

Her: That definitely sounds like revolutionary thought to me. Don’t tell me he didn’t have an agenda when he wrote that.

Him: Nobody writes unless they have an agenda. Have you ever heard of a brilliant writer who wasn’t championing some kind of cause? No. They don’t exist. If you didn’t want to sway anyone you wouldn’t publish anything.  You’d just keep all of your finished manuscripts at home, nicely organized, and locked up in a drawer somewhere.

[ sighs]

Man, I wish I could do that. Not publish. Just take out my work from time to time, realize how great I am, and then just move on and do… whatever. Beatbox or something.

Her: You don’t really have to publish nowadays though, do you?  If you don’t want to. You can just post stuff on the internet. Like all of those influencers. Start a blog or an Instagram account, or something. Like Atticus or Rupi Kaur. Become famous.

Him: I don’t write to become famous. And Rupi Kaur’s published… although I’d rather not talk about her. She’s a poet, anyways. I don’t know there’s something different about writing online that bugs me. It becomes more about likeability, I think. You end up writing more for an audience and likes and less for yourself.

Her: Ok big shot. If you’re such a believer in books and publishing why haven’t you written anything lately?

Him: ..Aarrgh

[mimes pushing a knife in his heart]

Her: I’m not gonna apologize for that. I haven’t said anything in months. Your stuff is amazing, but you’ve been sitting on it for ages.  Isn’t that one of the reasons we moved here? So you could get published? Your work isn’t gonna publish itself…

Him: I know, I know. I just haven’t felt that spark lately, you know? The “tie” to my work. It’s like my voice is gone. Everything I write sounds either bland or predictable. I feel like none of it is good enough for New York. This is the Big Apple, after all.  

Her: And it didn’t become the Big Apple because people sat on their ass all day and did nothing. Just go outside. Get some new experiences…

Your perfectionism is gonna be the end of you. Who said that thing about how when writers are stuck it’s because they don’t have enough new experiences?

Him: I’m sure a bunch of people did, but it was on that episode of Gossip Girl that you were watching yesterday.

Her: Oh, right. The one with Chuck and Dan. When Dan is interning for Noam Chomsky and he forces him to go out with Chuck. So you were paying attention.

Penn Badgley as Daniel Humphrey on bench
Lonely Boy Penn Badgley as Daniel Humphrey on Gossip Girl

[raises eyebrow]

Him: I couldn’t help it. It’s so distracting.

Her: So, you know what I mean then. Just go find some new material. But write it in your own voice. Not like Dan did. Don’t use that wannabee voice.

Him: Hahaha. Okay, fine. I will. Tomorrow, though. Today I’m supposed to meet Sam to start filming the short.

Her: Wait WHAT? You never mentioned this! Ohmygod yaaay!!

We definitely need to celebrate, then. Where should we go?

Him: I don’t know? Showman’s?

Her: No, they’re closed tonight remember? It’s Sunday.

Him: Okaay…What about The Expat? We haven’t tried that one yet. I heard it’s good.

Her:  The bar across the street? Yea, why not. Let’s try it. I’ll call Laila and them and tell them to meet us there around…8? Do you think you’ll be done by then?

Him: Should be, yeah.

Her: Awesome. Ok if we go…please, please make sure I don’t have more than three drinks, because I promised Laila I’d go running with her tomorrow morning.

Him: Haahhahaha. I can’t wait to see that. You’ll never make it to Central Park.

Her: No, fuck that. I learned my lesson. We’re going to Riverside this time. I have a class at 10.

Him: You have class tomorrow? I thought you had work.

Her: No, that’s Tuesday. Tomorrow I have Counseling Women with that great professor I told you about.

Him: The one you said looks like Billie Holiday?

Her: Yes. I swear they’re twins.You know what I just noticed? You didn’t mention one woman you’d like to be when we were doing the Harlem Renaissance what if thingy.

Him: …you didn’t even want to be a woman.

Her: Yea but I was using that to prove a point. Not hating on my gender. Just humour me.

Him: Ok fine. If I had to be a woman in the Harlem Renaissance, I think I’d be Zora Neale Hurston.

Zora Neale Hurston
Zora Neale Hurston by Carl Van Vechten

Her: Another writer? You’re soooo boring.

Him: What do you mean? She had so much pizzaz. She was also anthropologist. She studied with Boes and documented folk songs in the South and the Caribbean.

Her: I didn’t know that she had actually studied Anthro. I thought it was just an interest. To be fair, I’ve never actually read any of her work.

Him: What happened to the copy of Their Eyes Were Watching God that I gave you for Christmas?

Her: I may have accidentally left it at my parent’s house.

Him: You’re kidding! Honestly, I’m not even gonna comment. You keep saying you wanna read stuff and then I get you the book and you never do.  

Her: I meant to. I promise! I even remember the first part. Didn’t it say something about ships in the distance and women remembering stuff?

Him:

“Ship’s at a distance have every man’s wish on board.”

And it’s “forget all the things they don’t want to remember and remember everything they don’t want to forget”. It’s like one of the best lines in history.

Her: Yea that one. I remember thinking it was brilliant because I always forget things.

Him: I don’t know about that, you seem to have an amazing ability to remember things when you want to. If anything, you’re more the second one “remember all the things they don’t want to forget”. And you won’t let me forget it, either.

[dodges pillow]

Her: Whatever. See who’s gonna remind you where your sunglasses are next time you leave them in the spice rack.

Him: You’re never gonna let me live that one down, are you?

Her: Nope. Why don’t you put on some Louis, so we can get in the mood for tonight? You know…reenact the Renaissance.

[mimes dancing the Charleston]

Her: After you Ms. Hurston.

[ He puts on Dream a Little Dream of Me]

Her: No, after you Mr. Armstrong.

This tune you chose is really the bees’ knees.

[They sway to the music]

End Scene