"You're a natural and you even look like him."
"Who wouldn't like a role like that?" I said.
"Do you think we could possibly get the rights to do his life story?"
I said, "I'll try. I know that he's in Bimini." That's where he hid out because he had a lot of legal problems at that time and he was avoiding any kind of process servings. A black woman he'd accused of being a bag woman for the mob sued him.
He'd been told that he could become a very big man and probably run for Governor of the State of New York and get elected if he helped to get this woman tried and convicted. The informant vowed to turn the information over to him so he could get credit for the nab. After Adam made the charge, the information disappeared , and he became liable because he suddenly couldn't prove of his accusations against the woman. He'd been set up in an effort to run him out of Congress. The White bigots wanted rid themselves of this mouthy Nigger.
"So," he explained, "I came to Bimini. " I still go home on Sundays to preach because in New York you can't serve a man on Sundays." That's the way things worked out - back then.
Anyway, Adam arrived on Sunday morning for services at the First Abyssinian Baptist Church and after services he would take off to Florida and fly over to Bimini and stay there all week, conducting all of his business by telephone. He more or less exiled himself for a long, long time.
I followed up on Jim Drury's quest by calling the church in New York. They knew my association with Adam and that we were friends. I was provided a secure conduit to reach him. You could not communicate directly by phone because any line he might be associated with had been tapped by J. Edgar Hoover's F.B.I. Hoover, a dangerous and vindictive man, with a massive file on Adam, was determined to get him, one way or the other.
My church contact advised me to be at a certain phone at a scheduled time in Washington. Jim Drury and I waited together for the call.
About seven in the evening, the appointed time, I waited near a telephone booth in the lobby of the Mayfair Hotel in downtown Washington. At precisely seven-thirty the phone rang. I picked up the receiver , and the first word I heard, "Flaming-o?" Adam always used my signature song title when he contacted me. "Okay, sweet singer, what can I do for you?"
I said, "Adam, I'm here with Jim Drury , and he's already been talking to the guys in the tower at U niversal Studios. There's a great interest in producing the Adam Clayton Powell Story. They want me to play you , but nobody can do anything without your permission."
"Sounds wonderful. Wonderful. Yes. I'll let you have it."
I asked, "What are the conditions? I'm sure there must be many."
"For you, Sweet Singer, I'll let you have it for one dollar, but I have to pick the script writer."
"Hold on while I ask Jim." I turned to Drury. "He'll let us have the rights for one dollar, but Adam has to pick the writer. How do you feel about that?"
Jim said, "I think we can do that. Tell him we'll get back to him after I consult with Universal."
I passed that on to Adam who responded cheerfully, "Communicate with me, Sweet Singer. I'll tell you how to do it. Get on a plane and come to Bimini where you and I can sit down and talk. Don't bring anybody else with you."
So we thought we had a nibble , and the Adam Clayton Powell story would be produced as a major motion picture for Universal Studios. Back in Hollywood , Jim presented his idea with those conditions to the men in the pinstriped suits at the Universal Tower. Meanwhile, Jim told me to go on to Bimini and meet with Adam while he made his pitch at the studio.
In Miami I boarded a little seaplane called The Seabee . I'd never been in a seaplane before. It had an engine above the plane and seated four people. That, evidently, was the transportation Adam used to ferry himself back and forth between the Bahamas and the States.
I'll never forget that first flight to Bimini. As a pilot myself, it was I found it a very revealing experience. I had a weird feeling as we came into this little landing field located on the split part of the island. Bimini has kind of a wash that separates the island in the middle. The pilot kept buzzing the field and gunning his engine. I looked at him and, somewhat startled, asked, "What in the world are you doing?"
"I have to do that Mr. Jeffries, because the wild boar come out on the field , and I don't want to have an accident. I do this to scare them away before I land."
When we landed , a little jeep picked me up and the pilot took off back to Florida without even exiting the plane. I intended to stay no longer than a week because of upcoming singing engagements.
The driver of the jeep took off down the road , and pretty soon we came to an inlet. He drove the jeep up on a pontoon , and we were roped across the inlet to the other side where the jeep simply drove onto land and proceeded on to a harbor hotel called The Brown's Hotel. Just a little shack of a thing right on the water.
Anchored there , a forty-foot yacht bore the title His while a smaller boat, anchored next to it had a similar plaque reading Hers, which belonged, he said, to his secretary - a lady friend who caused him no end of problems. He'd been accused, among other things, of taking this woman all over the world on government funds . He brushed it off. "Just more pressure to get rid of me. My investigations have become an embarrassment to some mighty powerful people in Washington, sweet singer."
Adam invited me aboard the yacht where we'd have more Privacy, and the setup amazed me. Here we were, two very light complexioned men, sitting at this small hotel where dark skins surrounded us. One hundred percent deep umber. I think I saw one fishing boat run by a white couple. Otherwise we might as well have been located in darkest Africa.
moir: 
