by Ken Abraham
“I’m sure you did,” she nearly shouted.
The verbal jousting continued all the way home, and once again Eddie was only too glad the ride was a quick one.
But not quick enough.
“Mama and Daddy, please don’t fight,” Delilah cried from the backseat. She and Debbie burst into tears. Bo, seated next to Delilah, stiffened and his face looked as though it had turned to stone.
Eddie felt a tear trickle down his face. He knew his mom and dad were good people, but their inconsistencies bothered him. He didn’t understand how they could be so spiritual in church on Sunday and during Wednesday night Bible study and then be so mean to each other outside of church. He wished there was something he could do about it, some way he could draw them back together.
7
ANNA LIGON SAT AT HER KITCHEN TABLE late in the afternoon correcting some tests she had given to one of her classes at Union High School, the county-wide school for coloreds located in Gallatin. Anna became a schoolteacher after graduating from Tennessee Agricultural and Industrial University, later known simply as Tennessee State University, and earned a reputation as a tough but fair educator who loved her students. She recognized that getting an education was the only way her students could ever escape a life of poverty, servitude, and presumed insignificance. She possessed a passion for learning and drilled that attitude into her students as well as her own children.
Sheereeet!
Anna looked up from the test papers. She could recognize Tyree’s signature whistle just about anywhere. Her youngest son had mastered the technique of placing two fingers in his mouth, contorting his tongue just right, and blowing to create the loudest and sharpest whistle Anna had ever heard.
Shereeet! Anna realized the whistle was coming from the direction of the whites-only park. That wasn’t good. Anna stood up and stepped to the window to see if Tyree was anywhere in sight. Sure enough, Tyree was standing at the corner of their backyard fence that overlooked the whites-only playground. He paced back and forth, a serious expression on his face, as though he were standing watch at a bank robbery.
Because it was so late in the afternoon, few people were in the park. Anna noticed a single young white boy shooting baskets on the asphalt basketball court. That wasn’t unusual; kids played at the park until dusk almost every evening. A group of white children and some men who might be their dads or coaches walked across the park behind where the white boy was practicing his foul shots. Tyree continued pacing near the fence, seemingly looking in every direction for something or somebody. As soon as the children and the adults were out of sight, Tyree let out another ear-piercing whistle.
Anna’s mouth dropped open and she gasped when she saw Bill bounding out from behind a large tree growing inside the park. He had been hiding as the white folks passed by. As Bill joined the white boy on the whites-only basketball court, he waved to Tyree, who waved back. Anna shook her head and sighed. Bill knew better than to risk angering members of the white community by playing on their basketball court. But perhaps nobody would notice that one of the boys playing ball was black. With the sun going down, they couldn’t play much longer, anyhow.
Anna was well aware of the local rules, stated and unstated, that colored and whites shouldn’t mix. The Ku Klux Klan still had a strong influence in the area surrounding Pulaski, Tennessee, a mere one hundred miles down Interstate 65. Anna had been following the news about the racial tension only a few hundred miles to the south in Birmingham.
Yet because of her strong faith in God, she believed he was moving in the hearts and minds of people, transforming their attitudes about racial matters. She was aware that the times were changing, that a day was coming when whites and blacks would play together on the same playground. But with segregation still deeply entrenched in Gallatin, Anna also knew that day had not yet arrived in her hometown.
She peered out the window once more and saw Bill and the white boy playing together. She certainly didn’t want Bill to be the catalyst for trouble, but she couldn’t deny the sheer delight she saw on his face, even from a distance. She decided not to make a scene and allowed her son to continue playing on the whites-only court.
Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.
On the asphalt court, Bill and Eddie were lost in their game, interrupted only by Tyree’s shrill whistles when some white folks happened to walk by or through the park.
Bill carried on his usual imaginary play-by-play commentary as Eddie dribbled forward, looking for an opening. Then with Bill guarding him closely, he dribbled back to near the foul line. Keeping a hand lightly on Eddie’s shirt all the while, Bill prattled on.
“Bob Cousy, star of the Boston Celtics, has the ball,” Bill announced in his broadcaster voice. “There’s only one man between Cousy and the bucket, one man between winning and losing. And that man is Willie Jones, the Detroit Pistons’ main man. One man . . .” Bill continued his commentary as Eddie drove right by him on the left side.
Bill tried to recover by falling back quickly, but the move was awkward. Eddie was too fast and Bill was off balance. Bill desperately leaped into the air, attempting to block Eddie’s shot, but Eddie had better position on him and barreled right through, his left shoulder slamming into Bill’s upper body like a linebacker hitting the quarterback. Eddie’s forward motion was enough to allow him to slip the ball under Bill’s outstretched left arm and then up and into the bucket. Bill reeled backward and crashed to the asphalt. His elbows scraped along for several inches on the hard surface before his body slid to a stop.
Eddie retrieved the ball as it eased through the hoop and bounced off the pavement. He turned around and saw Bill lying on the ground, grabbing first one elbow then the other in obvious pain.
Bill looked at the thin smear of blood marking his hand where he had clutched his elbow. He was not happy. He scowled at Eddie. For a long moment, he and Eddie locked eyes and remained transfixed, staring at each other, both boys ready for a fight.
Eddie stood over Bill, looking down at him, poised to pounce. Then a subtle hint of a smile creased Eddie’s face. He reached his hand out toward Bill. “Come on, man. You’re not hurt.”
Bill sat up and stared at Eddie’s very white hand, noticing the light blond hair on his suntanned arm. He continued staring for several seconds, then suddenly grabbed Eddie’s hand and allowed him to pull him off the ground. Bill hopped to his feet and, with both hands, brushed off his pants. He flinched a bit as his elbows bent. “Hey, that was charging. No points. My ball!”
“No way,” Eddie fired back. “You were all over me, stumbling backward and flailing your arms like a drunk.”
The boys became so immersed in their debate over the play they didn’t notice the middle-aged white man who had pulled up in his car on the street near the south side of the park.
“Hey! What are you doin’ in there, boy?” he railed, leaning out of the driver’s side window. “Get yourself out of my park! Now!” The man jumped out of the car. He cursed at Bill while shaking his fist at him.
Stark terror struck Bill. His mouth went dry, his legs felt weak, and his heart pounded as he realized they had been found out. He feared the man might have a gun, and getting shot was not in his plans.
“Come on, Eddie! I gotta get outta here!” Bill was already running toward the chain-link fence.
Eddie grabbed the basketball and followed Bill. The two boys raced out the gate and scrambled up the hill toward Bill’s house, with the man by the car still screaming at them.
“Whew, that was a close one!” Bill said.
The boys plopped down on the front porch steps.
“You’re not kiddin’. That was scary,” Tyree, who’d come from his post in the backyard, said.
“A fine sentry you were.” Bill slapped Tyree on the back. “Good thing we weren’t playin’ in Birmingham or Montgomery. I’d be in jail by now. And I’m sure you’d come visit me, right?” He poked Tyree again, and the two brothers laughed.
Edd
ie joined in the laughter. “Yeah, we might not want to try that again anytime soon. No use taking chances, you see what I’m sayin’?”
“I agree,” Bill said, his heartbeat finally returning to normal. “It’s probably safer to play over at Cousin Ella Lee’s house.”
Hearing all the commotion on the front porch, Anna Ligon poked her head out the front door. “What’s going on out here?”
“Oh, nuthin’ much, Mama,” Bill said. “We’re just having a good laugh.”
“Where have you been?” Anna tested the boys.
“Playin’ ball over in the park,” Bill said. “We’re just hangin’ around now.”
“Hmm, playing basketball in the park. That is rather interesting.” Anna regarded her older son. “And you aren’t hanging anywhere.” She corrected his English. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“Oh, sorry, Mama. This is Eddie,” Bill said.
“Hello, ma’am,” Eddie said. “How do you do?”
Ever the teacher, Anna smiled at Eddie but addressed her words to Bill. “And does Eddie have a last name?”
Bill drew a blank and stared at Eddie. “I don’t know. Do you?”
“Eddie Sherlin, ma’am.”
“That’s it!” Bill slapped his knee. “Eddie Sherlin. I knew he had a last name!”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Eddie.” Anna extended her hand. Eddie returned the gesture, gently shaking Mrs. Ligon’s hand without reservation.
“Sherlin? Are you Betty Sherlin’s son?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Anna nodded. “Oh, I know your mother. She sold me a set of World Book Encyclopedias a while back. More than twenty volumes, and I hear they’re planning for even more. I’m still paying on those books every month.” She smiled as she recalled the exorbitant purchase she had made as much to help Betty as her own three children’s education. “How’s your mom doing?”
“She’s fine, Mrs. Ligon.”
“Well, good. Please tell her I send my regards.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie replied.
“Would you perspiring basketball players care for some lemonade? I just made a fresh batch.”
“Oh, yes, Mama!” Tyree answered.
“Sure would,” Bill said.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Eddie chimed in.
“Okay, I’ll have it for you in just a minute. Would you like to come inside?” Anna held open the door.
Bill and Tyree headed for the door, and Eddie started to follow then hesitated. “Er, I’d better not, ma’am,” Eddie said. “If it is all the same to you, I’ll just stay out here on the porch. Thank you, anyhow.”
Bill and Tyree stopped short of the door. They turned back and eased toward the porch steps.
“Oh. Of course. Yes,” Anna said, as though understanding had suddenly dawned on her.
Anna knew very well the attitudes with which Eddie had lived during his childhood, the same attitudes with which her three children grappled every day. It was unthinkable for a white person to step inside a black person’s house. Anna understood that Eddie, just by playing basketball with Bill and sitting on her front porch at his young age, was already crossing lines many others refused to even consider. Anna understood all too well. And she appreciated Eddie’s courage.
“I’ll just bring some glasses and a tray out here on the porch, and you boys can enjoy your lemonade right here.” She smiled at Eddie. “So nice to meet you, Eddie. Please feel free to come back any time.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ligon,” Eddie said. “I’d be happy to do that.”
To be sure, racial tension in Gallatin and Nashville’s extended metropolitan area was relatively mild compared with that of Atlanta or Montgomery or Birmingham, to say nothing of the conditions coloreds endured in Mississippi. Throughout the South, they were expected to know and accept their place as an inferior race. Not only that, they were to show their appreciation to whites for allowing them to coexist. It was not a matter of debate. It had been that way for nearly two hundred years.
Beginning in 1866, Tennessee, like most Southern states, began developing an entire system of Jim Crow laws, named after a blackface minstrel character, which forced racial segregation. The system spawned the idea of “separate but equal” treatment for blacks, supposedly as a step forward in racial relations. In truth, separate but equal was heavy on the separate part and established a plethora of laws and unspoken rules to keep coloreds and whites who lived in the former Confederate states from interacting. The separate but equal principle was vapidly light on the equal aspect. Equal meant equally made in the image of God—though some Southern white Christians even wondered about that—but not necessarily equal before the law or in regard to getting an education or a decent job. Nor were coloreds and whites equal when it came to the way they were treated in public.
In October 1954, a young preacher named Martin Luther King Jr. arrived on the political scene when he became the pastor of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama. King became enamored with the teachings of Indian civil rights leader Mohandas “Mahatma” Gandhi, who used nonviolent methods to confront British rule in India. Dr. King was convinced that in the struggle for civil rights for Negroes, peaceful protests could impact public attitudes and bring about positive change, but violence would only worsen conditions in the South.
By the early 1960s, the civil rights movement was gaining momentum, and Montgomery and Birmingham became flash points. Buses were torched, and numerous students were beaten by white mobs reacting against the protests. The backlash resulted in fire bombings, beatings, abusive “crowd control” with the use of high pressure water hoses, and even deaths.
In January 1963, Alabama inaugurated George Wallace as governor. During his inaugural speech, the openly segregationist delighted his audience with his adamant insistence, “Segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever!”
Then on April 12, Good Friday, Dr. King was arrested for violating an injunction forbidding public demonstrations in Birmingham. King knew about the injunction but marched anyway. He was thrown into solitary confinement for eight days, during which time he penned on pieces of newsprint and even toilet paper perhaps his best-known document: “Letter from Birmingham Jail.” Ostensibly written as a response to eight clergymen in Birmingham who had written a letter published in the local newspaper urging King to slow down, contending he was disturbing the peace of Birmingham, King’s real audience was the entire nation. Indeed, the letter fanned the flames on both sides of the segregation argument.
King was released from the Birmingham jail, and on August 28, 1963, he delivered his famous “I Have a Dream” speech in front of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC. Three months later, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas. Added to all of this chaos was the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union, the escalating war in Vietnam, and the growing antiwar protests on college campuses. Within the black community, while preachers such as Martin Luther King Jr. advocated nonviolent protests, Malcolm X, the former gangster turned radical Nation of Islam minister, stoked the fires of racism and violence, contending that “white people are devils” and the “demise of white America is imminent.” The nation was seething with turmoil.
Amid the tumultuous bitterness on all sides of the racial debate, Anna Ligon realized that Bill and Eddie playing basketball together was no small matter.
8
SATURDAYS IN GALLATIN were always busy days. People from out of town came in to do their shopping or to frequent one of the local diners. This Saturday was particularly exciting because the Palace Theater was offering specially reduced prices on tickets to the matinee showing of The Pink Panther, starring Peter Sellers and David Niven. People who didn’t ordinarily attend many movies because they had little money for such luxuries—folks like Eddie and his family, as well as Bill and his family—flocked to the Palace.
The Palace Theater, which opened in 1913 and was still in its original
location on Franklin Street, was Tennessee’s oldest silent movie theater. By the 1960s, the theater regularly showed popular features, although not always when the films initially released. Nobody in Gallatin seemed to mind. If they really wanted to see a new movie when it first came out, they could drive into Nashville. Few Gallatin residents did.
Eddie and Bo could barely contain their excitement as they covered the five-block walk up North Water Street toward the theater. The boys had talked their parents into going to the movie along with them—a rare treat for the family, especially on a Saturday, Jim Sherlin’s insurance collection day. Delilah and Debbie struggled to keep up with the boys’ fast pace, and Jim and Betty trailed even farther behind them.
Leading the pack, Eddie was about to take a shortcut by walking down Main Street, one block parallel to the theater. To his delight and surprise, Eddie saw his new friends, Bill and Tyree Ligon, along with their sister, Delores, and their mother, Anna, walking down Main Street, apparently heading toward the theater as well. Eddie started to cross over Main, hoping to intercept the Ligons, when Bo shouted, “Eddie!”
Eddie stopped in his tracks and looked back at his older brother. “What?”
“Get over here,” Bo said sternly.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
Bo nodded toward the opposite side of the street, where several colored shops were located. Eddie stood just a few steps away from walking on the colored side of the street rather than on the white side. Gallatin’s main street was open for blacks to shop, but the white side of the street was off-limits to them.
Eddie raised a questioning eyebrow and was about to blurt, “So what?” but with their parents walking not far behind, Eddie quickly changed his mind, as well as his course. When the family caught up with Eddie, the Sherlins walked down the “correct” side of the street, almost parallel to the Ligon family.
Bill noticed Eddie, and the two boys exchanged glances, as though they shared a secret nobody else could imagine. Anna Ligon and Bo Sherlin, who knew something of Bill and Eddie’s secret, both walked with their eyes straight ahead, but for different reasons. Anna did not wish to create an awkward situation for Eddie; Bo did not wish for his parents to discover that he had known about Eddie’s playing basketball with a Negro and had done nothing to stop it.
