by Ken Abraham
When the two families neared the front entrance of the theater, Jim Sherlin gathered his brood around him below the vertical brightly lit PALACE sign in front of the ticket booth just outside the main entrance. A large crowd—all of them white—had already congregated outside the theater’s entrance. So many moviegoers were gathered together that the sidewalk couldn’t contain them all. People spilled out onto the street, conversing and laughing with those around them. Most seemed excited to see the matinee show.
The Sherlin siblings waited patiently as their father paid for their tickets. Together the family stepped through the front doors of the theater and made their way through the crowd in search of six seats together on the already packed main floor. Eddie spied a partially empty row and made a beeline for it, standing in the aisle in front of the row to ward off any potential seat hunters until the rest of the family made their way over and claimed their spots.
Meanwhile, the Ligons walked past the front entrance of the Palace and went around to the side of the theater, where several other colored families had congregated, waiting to purchase tickets for the show. Coloreds were not permitted to purchase their tickets in the same line as whites. Nor were coloreds allowed to enter the theater through the main entrance. While whites entered through the doors under the marquee, blacks were required to use the building’s side entrance.
Anna Ligon and her family got in line and waited their turn to climb a long fire-escape sort of staircase on the side of the theater that led to the second-floor balcony entrance. No black person dared to sit on the main floor of the theater. In fact, to further define the boundaries between white and colored moviegoers, the entire balcony was enclosed with chicken wire.
At the top of the steps, a colored man named John “Pig-Eye” Rogan sat in a cubbyhole selling tickets. Once they had purchased their tickets, Anna and the kids stepped through the dimly lit doorway and handed the tickets to an old black man, who tore each ticket in half and returned a portion to each moviegoer. The smell of freshly made popcorn wafted through air, mostly rising from the customers on the main floor, but a few Negroes had also purchased popcorn, and the delectable aroma permeated the balcony.
Neither Bill’s nor Eddie’s family had extra money for a five-cent bag of popcorn.
Bill and Tyree quickly made their way to the front row of the balcony seats, while Anna and Delores followed. Bill leaned forward, poked his head through a hole in the chicken wire as far as he dared, and looked over the side of the balcony at the crowd of white folks seated below. He spotted Eddie in a row off to the right. Seated next to Eddie was Bo, their sisters, and the adult Sherlins on the end of the row. Just then, Eddie glanced up and caught Bill’s eye. The two boys grinned but dared not wave.
The families settled in as the theater lights dimmed and an advertisement for Coca-Cola flickered on the large screen. Upstairs, off to the far side of the balcony where the chicken wire had long since been poked through by rambunctious kids, Bill spotted several colored boys tossing paper spitballs over the edge of the balcony railing onto the white audience below. Bill chuckled as he checked out the reaction of the victims. He would never misbehave like that. Besides being a well-mannered young man, Bill knew his mother would break his arm if she ever caught him tossing spitballs from the balcony. Several white kids below were looking up in the direction where the spitballs had originated. One big white boy stood up and shook his fist at someone upstairs. Bill shifted his gaze and stared straight ahead at the Coke advertisement.
Fortunately, a Looney Tunes cartoon feature lit the screen, capturing everyone’s attention and diffusing what could have been a volatile situation. Bill settled back to enjoy the show. Oddly enough, The Pink Panther and the zany antics of Peter Sellers and the somber rebukes of David Niven resonated with both the coloreds and the whites in the Palace. The crowd laughed uproariously at Sellers and Niven, and when the film concluded, they all left the Palace with a lilt in their steps.
But a block away from the Palace, the moviegoers split off toward their respective sides of the street, whites on one side, coloreds on the other. That’s the way it was in Gallatin, Tennessee, in 1963.
9
“HEY, BO, look at that Ferris wheel,” Eddie said. “That’s the highest one we’ve ever had here at the fair.”
“Sure is. That’s a beauty.” Bo stepped back to admire the ride and stared upward, catching a glimpse of the top chair swinging in the air. “I can’t wait to ride that thing.”
Few activities brought the white people of Gallatin together as a community more than the Sumner County Fair, which was held annually on the east side of town during the last week of July or the first week of August. Although a few coloreds could be spotted on the grounds, mostly working in low-paying maintenance positions, Gallatin’s Negroes were not welcome, so they had their own fair around Labor Day.
The Sumner County Colored Fair was considered one of the largest colored fairs in the United States. Negroes came from miles around—and some from several states away—to enjoy the fair, a sort of family homecoming and fall festival atmosphere. The popularity of the Colored Fair almost assuaged the pain of not being permitted to attend the white folks’ fair—almost.
Like most county fairs in the 1960s, the Sumner County Fair was a family-friendly event, featuring agricultural exhibits and competitions, entertainment and music, carnival rides and lots of unhealthy food.
Bo and Eddie loved going to the fair and especially enjoyed the carnival rides set up literally overnight on the midway. But it took money to ride, so they’d go to the fair hoping to pick up some odd jobs and maybe earn enough spare change to afford a few rides on the Tilt-A-Whirl or the Ferris wheel. Because of his age, Eddie had a tough time finding a job, other than racking pool balls at the billiard hall downtown, and sometimes he made a few dollars running errands. Bo, however, was eminently employable, especially as far as the carnival employers were concerned.
“I hope I can find a job this year.” Bo pointed at a large stuffed animal behind one of the carnival games. “I want to win one of those stuffed animals for my girlfriend.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. Bo was barely fourteen years old, but he considered himself something of a ladies’ man. He had been trying to impress Wanda Jean, a girl from school, so winning a stuffed animal for her might do the trick.
“I don’t care about no girls,” Eddie said. “I just want to earn enough money to buy some ride tickets.”
“Yeah, you say that now,” Bo said and laughed. “But pretty soon, some little honey is gonna capture your heart.”
“Not me, Bo.” Eddie smirked at his older brother. “I’m too busy playing ball to waste time messin’ around with girls.”
“We’ll see!” Bo teased.
Bo and Eddie made the rounds, asking each of the carnival booth managers if they could work for them. “How old are you boys?” one carny barker said.
“I’m almost fifteen,” Bo said, exaggerating. “And I’m strong. I can lift boxes or run errands, anything you need done. I want to earn some money so I can win a big stuffed animal to give to my girlfriend.”
“Ha, is that right?” the friendly booth barker said. “Well, you’re in luck, son. I happen to run the booth with the largest stuffed animals here at the fair. And I could use a bit of help. Matter of fact, I need to make a quick run over to Lebanon to get some more teddy bears. If you can come along and help me, I’ll not only pay you a buck or two, but you can have a couple of stuffed animals too.”
“Really? All right!” Bo was already dreaming of how his girlfriend might respond when he gave her such a marvelous present.
“Great. Name’s Clarence Walker,” the man said.
Bo studied the carny. He looked to be in his late forties, but the carnival was a tough life, so he may have been much younger.
The carnival barker glanced at Eddie. “Sorry, I can only use one of you, though.”
“That would be me,” Bo piped up. “I’m Bo. Bo She
rlin.” Bo stuck out his hand as though he and the carny worker were signing a major league baseball contract.
Clarence smiled and shook Bo’s hand. “Pleasure to meet ya, Bo. Welcome to the fair.”
“Thank you, sir.” Bo turned and looked at Eddie. “Don’t stay out too late. Dad’s working and won’t be back for hours, and Mom is in Gatlinburg, so you’re the man of the house.”
“Okay, Bo.” Eddie waved good-bye to his brother and headed off to see what he could discover at the fair. He knew what Bo meant. Their mom had won a trip from the encyclopedia company, so she was gone for the weekend. The girls were with some relatives, so Eddie was on his own. That was okay. He’d have fun checking out the fair.
Clarence and Bo piled into the carny’s car and headed off to Lebanon, about thirty minutes away, on Tennessee Highway 109 over mostly rural roads. They arrived in Lebanon shortly before dark, and while Clarence paid for the stuffed animals, Bo loaded the boxes in the trunk and backseat of the car. “I don’t think I can get another box in here,” Bo called to Clarence. “We’re crammed full, from the floorboards to the roof.”
“That’s good,” Clarence said. “I’ll be right with you.”
The carnival barker and Bo headed back toward Gallatin. Clarence pressed the pedal to the floor, clearly wanting to get back to the fairgrounds while there was still an opportunity to make some money. Clarence began telling Bo some funny stories about carnival life, and they were talking and laughing as they rounded a curve and hit a straight stretch.
Clarence never saw the car that pulled out of a roadside beer joint and careened across the road on the wrong side. Bo saw it though. “Watch out, Clarence!”
Too late.
The three men in the car had been drinking heavily at the roadside bar. The driver pulled the car out of the bar’s parking area and gunned the accelerator, veering into the oncoming lane just as Clarence rounded the curve and hit the straightaway.
Even inside the roadside bar, the crash of the enormous head-on collision stopped everyone’s hearts. The bartender and patrons dropped everything, ran outside, and were horrified at the sight. Both cars were twisted into hideously contorted metal. The three men in the car driven by the drunk driver were all dead. Clarence was dead as well.
Bo screamed in pain. His face was covered in blood. Both of his legs were broken, as were both of his arms. Breathing was difficult, indicating serious internal injuries as well.
“Call an ambulance!” the bartender yelled.
“Don’t bother; call a coroner,” someone said. One of the women in the bar called the police instead, who relayed an emergency call to both the fire department and a paramedic crew.
Bo was barely breathing when the ambulance workers arrived. They strapped him onto a gurney and rushed him to a hospital in Gallatin, but he needed more care than they could provide, so they sent him to Vanderbilt Hospital in Nashville. “You can try to get him to Vanderbilt, but he ain’t gonna make it,” one of the paramedics said.
The Vanderbilt doctors did their best to save Bo’s life, but few of them had any hopes for his survival.
Jim Sherlin was traveling his collection route when he heard on the radio about a bad accident between Gallatin and Lebanon. Of course, he had no idea his eldest son had been critically injured in the accident. Sometime later, he got the shocking phone call informing him that Bo was in the hospital. The police had found Bo’s wallet, which contained identification.
Betty Sherlin raced back from Gatlinburg when she heard the news, and she and Jim set up a vigil at Vanderbilt Hospital. Members of their church rallied around them, praying for Bo’s healing and recovery, as well as caring for Delilah and Debbie. Eddie was too young to be permitted in the Intensive Care Unit, so he spent most of his time on the playground during the day and stayed with relatives at night.
For thirteen days, Bo lay comatose. Betty and Jim and their friends at church kept praying. They refused to give up. On the fourteenth day, Bo slowly rallied. He was in awful shape, unable to move his arms and legs, but he was alive.
The church continued to undergird the family, and almost every day, someone brought them meals. Choir members offered to watch the girls so Betty could get to the grocery store or run other errands. Many members of the congregation sent cards and letters of encouragement. Almost all said, “We’re praying for you.” And the entire Sherlin family knew that the folks at the church were indeed concerned and praying for Bo’s healing, as well as for Jim and Betty’s strength.
For six months, Bo needed around-the-clock care. Because of the cast on his body, he couldn’t get out of bed by himself, he couldn’t feed himself, he couldn’t do much of anything without help. When Bo first came home from the hospital, members of the Sherlins’ church visited frequently, staying as long as necessary to give Betty and Jim a break, but gradually the number of helpers dwindled, and the family settled into a routine.
Almost as if to shield himself from the nightmare that had invaded his family, Eddie poured himself into sports—he played football, basketball, baseball, and he ran track. He spent any spare time he could find out back, shooting shot after shot at the makeshift backboard and goal that he and Bo had erected.
Jim and Betty felt bad that Bo could no longer play with Eddie. “Let’s move his bed over by the window,” Jim said. “That way Bo can at least look out the window and watch Eddie and his friends play.”
“Good idea,” Betty said. “That will give Bo something to do too.” Day after day, Bo lay prostrate in his bed, forlornly staring out the window, watching Eddie shoot. Bo instinctively knew he was Eddie’s idol when it came to sports—even though Eddie never told him so. But since Bo could no longer play because of his injuries, Eddie played for both of them.
Rather than causing the Sherlin family to question their faith in God, Bo’s accident drew the family together. The tensions were still there, but they were able to turn their eyes from their own problems for a while and focus on Bo’s needs, which made their small problems pale in comparison. In some ways, Bo’s tragic accident was a blessing in disguise.
As he did most Saturday mornings, Eddie got up early and headed for the basketball courts at the park. His favorite court was his sanctuary—his carefree, idealistic world, a respite from all the stress at home—where he could remain oblivious to the rising conflicts in the outside world around him.
Dribbling his basketball as he ran toward the park, he stopped short when he noticed a pickup truck parked in front of the Ligons’ house. It looked as though people were loading the truck with furniture and other household items.
Eddie bounced the ball into his arms and eased closer to Bill and Tyree’s house. He watched as two older Negro men carried the Ligons’ kitchen table out the door, off the porch, and then loaded it onto the truck. Anna Ligon followed, carrying a basketful of clothes, all neatly folded and stacked. Bill, Tyree, and Delores came out the door, all with sullen expressions, their arms filled with boxes.
By now Eddie was at the end of the park property and close to the Ligons’ home. “Hey, Bill,” he called out.
Clearly in a bad mood, Bill nodded to Eddie but made no move in his direction. Instead he went back inside the house without a word.
Tyree stopped. “Hi, Eddie,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“Hey, Tyree,” Eddie returned the greeting along with a nod.
Bill came out of the house, carrying another armload of boxes. He plopped the boxes on the tailgate of the truck and waited for one of the men to arrange them so they could make the most of the limited space.
Eddie boldly strode to where Bill was standing. “What’s going on, Bill?”
“What’s it look like?” Bill retorted angrily. “We’re movin’.”
“Movin’? Movin’ where? Why?”
Bill saw the genuine concern on Eddie’s face. “Across town,” he said, his tone softening. “Mama’s gonna work at Union High School full time, so we’re moving over there to Blythe S
treet, by the Negro park. It’s a nice park. Backboards are almost new. Got them new chain nets too. I can shoot all day if I want . . .”
“Great, but what about—”
“Come on, boys. Time to go.” Anna carried a final box of kitchen utensils to her car that was parked in front of the pickup truck. She stuffed the box into the trunk and closed it.
Eddie looked at Bill plaintively. He couldn’t believe his buddy was moving away. Although it was only across town, it was another world away from Morrison Street.
Bill shrugged. He was upset as well but was desperately trying not to show it, wiping away the tears that filled his eyes. Besides, there was nothing he could do about his mom’s decision to move. “See ya around, Eddie,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, I’ll be looking for you,” Eddie replied sadly. He watched as Mrs. Ligon slipped behind the wheel of the car and started the motor. Delores sat in the front passenger side, and Bill and Tyree got into the back. The pickup truck pulled out first and Mrs. Ligon followed. For a long moment, Eddie simply stood staring after the procession.
In the rear seat, Bill turned around and looked back at Eddie. When Eddie caught Bill’s glance, it triggered something inside him. He continued watching for another moment or two as the car slowly moved up the street and turned the corner, heading toward the railroad tracks. Suddenly, against all logic, Eddie ran after the car, racing through a backyard and coming out on the same street as the Ligons’ vehicle. Recognizing that he couldn’t keep up with the car, Eddie stopped and waited as the car and truck approached the tracks.
He heard the baleful sound of an approaching train whistle moaning in the distance. A few seconds later, the red lights flashed and the railroad crossing barrier bar lowered behind the Ligons’ car as Eddie watched his pal cross the tracks and drive away. Eddie continued peering after the Ligons until the train roared through, obscuring his view. A tear trickled down Eddie’s face. By the time the train was gone, so were Bill and his family.
