The Man Who Stood Tall
The line at the Cotton Club stretched down the block and around the corner. Marcus Johnson stood at the front of it, his back straight, his shoulders squared, his knees rigid as iron bars. He was twenty-eight years old, a Black veteran of the Great War, and he had served in the trenches of the Somme, where a German shell fragment had destroyed the ligaments in both his knees. He could walk. He...
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