The Trumpet at Midnight
The night Samuel Washington died, Marcus was supposed to be at Ebenezer Baptist Church. He was supposed to sit in the third pew behind his father, his hands folded, his head bowed, singing hymns about crossing the Jordan and resting on the other side. Instead, he was in a basement on 125th Street, listening to a trumpet player named King Oliver blow notes that sounded like prayer and pain woven...
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