Текст книги "Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe"

Автор книги: Фэнни Флэгг

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"What?"

"Think there's anything cuter than a bug?"

"I cain't say I've looked at too many bugs to know if they're cute or not."

"Well, I have! Albert and I would spend hours and hours looking at them. Cleo had this big magnifying glass on his desk. and we'd find centipedes and grasshoppers and beatles and potato bugs, ants . . . and put them in a jar and look at them. They have the sweetest little faces and the cutest expressions. After we'd looked at them all we wanted to, we'd put them in the yard and let them go on about their business.

"One time, Cleo caught a bumblebee and put it in the jar for us, and he was a precious thing to look at. Idgie loved bees, but my favorite is the lady bug. That's a lucky bug. Every bug has a different personality, you know. Spiders are kind of nervous and grumpy, with teeny heads. And I always liked the praying mantis. He's a very religious bug.

"I could never kill a bug, not after seeing them up close like that. I believe they have thoughts, just like us. Of course, that has its bad side. My snowballs around my house were all dog-eared and eaten up. And all my gardenia bushes are chewed down to the nub. Norris said he wanted to come over there and spray, but I didn't have the heart to let him do it. I'll tell you one thing, a bug wouldn't stand a chance at Rose Terrace. A germ would be hard pressed to survive in this place. Their motto here is: 'It's not enough to look clean, it's got to be clean.' Sometimes I feel like I'm living in one of those cellophane sandwich bags, like the ones they used to sell on the trains.

“As for me I’ll be glad to get home to my nasty old bugs.  Even an ant would be a welcome sight.  I’ll tell you one thing, honey, I'm glad I’m on the going-out end, instead of coming-in . . .’My Father's house has many mansions and I'm ready to go’. . . .

”The only thing I ask is, please, Lord, get rid of all the lineoleum floors before I get there."

OCTOBER 17, 1940

When Vesta Adcock was younger, someone had told her to speak up, and she never forgot it. You could hear Vesta through brick walls. The booming voice from that little woman traveled for blocks.

Cleo Threadgoode made the remark that it was a shame that Earl Adcock had to pay his telephone bills since Vesta could just as well have opened the door and aimed at whoever's house she was calling.

Considering that, and the fact that she had appointed herself president of the "I'm Better Than Anyone Else Club," it was not surprising that Earl did what he did.

Earl Adcock was a quiet, decent man who had always done the right thing—one of the unsung heroes of life who had married the girl just because she had picked him out and he didn't want to hurt her feelings. And so he had just remained quiet while Vesta and his mother-in-law-to-be had arranged everything from the wedding to the honeymoon to where they would live.

After the one child, Earl Jr., had been born, a soft, pudgy, pasty little boy with brown ringlets who screamed for his mother whenever his father got near him, Earl realized he had made a big mistake, but he did the gentlemanly, manly thing: He stayed married and raised this son, who lived in the same house, had the same blood, but was a stranger to him.

 Earl was in charge of over two hundred men down at L N Railroad, where he worked, and commanded great respect and was extremely capable. He had served bravely in the First World War, killing two Germans, but in his own home he had been reduced to just another child of Vesta's, and not even a favorite child: He came in second to Earl Jr.

"WIPE YOUR FEET BEFORE YOU COME IN HERE! DONT SIT IN THAT CHAIR!"

"HOW DARE YOU SMOKE IN MY HOUSE . . . GO OUT ON THE PORCH!"

"YOU CAIN’T BRING THOSE NASTY FISH IN HERE. TAKE THEM OUT IN THE BACKYARD AND CLEAN THEM!"

"EITHER YOU GET RID OF THOSE DOGS OR I'M TAKING THE BABY AND LEAVING!"

"MY GOD, IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE ON YOUR MIND? YOU MEN ARE NOTHING BUT A BUNCH OF ANIMALS!"

She picked out his clothes, she picked out their friends, and flew at him like an enraged wild turkey the few times that he had tried to swat little Earl; eventually, he gave up.

Thus, throughout the years, Earl had worn the correct blue suit, carved the meat, gone to church, been the husband and father, and never said one word against Vesta. But Earl Jr. was grown now, and the L N had retired him with a nice pension that he immediately signed over to Vesta, and had given him a gold Rockford railroad watch. And so, as quietly as he had lived, he slipped out of town, leaving only a note behind:

Well, that's that. I'm off, and if you don't believe I'm leaving Just count the days I'm gone. When you hear the phone not ringing, it'll be me that's not calling. Goodbye, old girl, and good luck.

                                                                                                                                          Yours truly,

Earl Adcock

P.S. I'm not deaf.

Vesta smacked a surprised Earl Jr. in the face and went to bed for a week with a cold rag on her head, while everyone in town secretly cheered Earl on. If good wishes had been ten-dollar bills, he would have left a rich man.

OCTOBER 18, l940

Warning to Wives

It's that time of the year again, and my other half is chomping at the bit to get out with the gang and hunt. He's been cleaning his guns and fooling with his old hounds and doing everything short of baying at the moon. So, get ready to say goodbye to the boys for a while. Nothing that moves is safe. . . Remember last year, when Jack Butts shot a hole in the bottom of the rowboat? Idgie said they all sunk to the bottom of the lake while ten flocks of ducks flew right over their heads.

Congratulations to Stump Threadgoode for winning the first prize at the school Science Fair, with his project, "The Lima Bean . . . What Is It?"

Second prize went to Vernon Hadley, whose project was "Experimenting with Soap."

Idgie has a big jar of dried lima beans on the counter, down at the cafe, and says anyone who guesses how many lima beans are in the jar gets a prize.

The photograph of Mr. Pinto did not turn out as well as expected, and is just a blur.

Ruth said to tell everybody that she has thrown the shrunken head out, because it was making people sick to see it on the counter while they were trying to eat. Ruth said it was nothing but a rubber head that Idgie had bought at the Magic Shop in Birmingham, anyway.

By the way, my other half says that somebody asked us over for supper, but he can't remember who it was. So, whoever asked us, we will be happy to come, just call me and let me know.

. . . Dot Weems . . .

P.S. Opal says again to please stop feeding Boots.

AUGUST 4, 1928

It had been two years since Idgie had seen Ruth, but every once in a while, Idgie went over to Valdosta on Wednesdays, because that was the day that Frank Bennett would come into town and go to the barbershop. She would usually hang around Puckett's Drug Store, because she had a good view of the front door of the barbershop and could see Frank sitting in the barber's chair.

She wished she could hear what he was saying, but it was enough just to see him. He was her only link to Ruth, and as long as she saw him, she knew that Ruth was still there.

This Wednesday, Mrs. Puckett, the thin little old lady in black-framed glasses, was busy as usual, moving around the store, arranging things as if life depended on everything being neat and in its place.

Idgie was sitting at the counter, looking across the street; watching.

"That Frank Bennett sure does talk a lot, doesn't he? A real friendly fella, huh?"

Mrs. Puckett was on the first step of a ladder, arranging jars of Stillman's Freckle Cream, her back to Idgie. "Some might say so, I guess."

Idgie heard a strange tone in her voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I just said, some may think so, that's all." She came down off the stepladder.

"Don't you think so?"

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"Don't you think he's friendly?"

"I didn't say I didn't think he was friendly, did I? I guess he's friendly enough."

Mrs. Puckett was now poking at the boxes of Carter's Liver Pills on the counter. Idgie got off the stool and went over to her.

"What do you mean, friendly enough? Do you know something about him? Has he ever not been friendly?"

"No, he's always pleasant enough," she said, arranging the boxes in a row. "It's just that I don't like any man that'll beat his wife."

Idgie's heart went cold.

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said."

"How do you know that?"

Mrs. Puckett was now busy restacking the tins of toothpaste. "Oh, Mr. Puckett's had to go out there and take that poor little thing medicine—more than once, I'll tell you. He's blackened her eye and knocked her down the stairs, and once, he broke her arm. She teaches Sunday School and you never met a nicer person." She moved on to torment the Sal Hepatica bottles. "That's what liquor will do to a man, make them do crazy things they wouldn't ordinarily do. Mr. Puckett and I are Temperance, ourselves . . ."

Idgie was out the door and didn't hear the last sentence.

The barber was brushing off the back of Frank's neck with sweet-smelling talcum powder when Idgie burst into the shop. She was in a rage. She stuck her finger in Frank's face. "LISTEN. YOU MEALY-MOUTHED, MOLE-FACED, GLASS-EYED SON OF A BITCHING BASTARD! IF YOU EVER HIT RUTH AGAIN, I'LL KILL YOU! YOU BASTARD! I SWEAR I'LL CUT YOUR DAMN HEART OUT! YOU HEAR ME, YOU ASSHOLE BASTARD!"

And with that, she took her arm and knocked everything off the marble counter. Dozens of bottles of shampoo, hair tonics, hair oils, shaving lotions, and powders crashed to the floor. Before they knew what had hit them, Idgie was back in her car, screeching out of town.

The barber stood there with his mouth open. It had happened so fast. He looked at Frank in the mirror and said, "That boy must be crazy."

The minute Idgie got home to the Wagon Wheel Fishing Lodge, she told Eva what had happened, and was still in a rage, vowing that she was going back over there and get him.

Eva listened carefully. "You're gonna go over there and get yourself killed, is what you're gonna do. Now, you cain't go interfering with somebody's marriage, that's their business. Honey, there are things between a man and a woman that you don't go fooling with."

Poor Idgie was in agony and asked Eva, "Why does she stay with him? What's the matter with her?"

"That's not any of your business. Now honey, you have to forget all about it. She is a grown woman and she is doing what she wants, as much as you don't like to hear it. You're still a baby, sugar, and if that man is as mean as you say, you could get yourself hurt."

"I don't care what you say, Eva, I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch someday, you wait and see."

Eva poured Idgie another drink. "No you're not. You're not gonna kill anyone and you're not going back over there. You promise?"

Idgie promised. Both of them knew she was lying.

APRIL 27, 1986

Mrs. Threadgoode was especially happy today because she had fried chicken and coleslaw on a paper plate, and Evelyn was down the hall at this very minute, getting her a grape drink to go with it.

"Oh thank you, honey. You're spoiling me, bringing me all these treats each week. I told Mrs. Otis, I said that Evelyn couldn't be any sweeter to me if she was my own daughter . . . and I appreciate it so much—I never had a daughter of my own. . . . Does your mother-in-law enjoy good things to eat?"

Evelyn said, "No, not at all. I brought her some chicken, but she didn't want it. She or Ed could care less about food, they just eat to keep alive. Can you imagine?"

Mrs. Threadgoode said she certainly could not imagine such a thing.

Evelyn started her off. "Now, Ruth left Whistle Stop and went off to Valdosta to get married . . .”

"That's right. Oh, and it liked to have killed Idgie. She pitched such a fit."

"I know, you told me about that. But what I want to know is, when did Ruth come back to Whistle Stop?"

Evelyn settled in her chair, ate her chicken, and listened. "Oh yes, honey, I remember the very day that letter came. It must have been in 'twenty-eight or 'twenty-nine. Or was it 'thirty? Oh w ell. . . . I was in the kitchen with Sipsey when Momma came running back in with it in her hand. She threw open the back door and hollered for Big George, who was out in the garden with Jasper and Artis. She said, 'George, go get Idgie right away and tell her she's got a letter from Miss Ruth!'

"George took off running to get her. About an hour later, Idgie came into the kitchen. Momma, who was shelling peas at the time, just pointed to the letter on the table, without a word. Idgie opened it, but the funny thing was, it wasn't a letter at all.

"It was just a page torn out of the Bible, King James Version. Ruth1:16-20:

And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.

"Idgie just stood there, reading that quotation over and over and then she handed it to Momma and asked her what she thought it meant.

"Momma read it, put it down on the table, and continued shelling her peas. She said, ’Well, honey, it means just what it says. I think tomorrow you and your brothers and Big George better go over there and get that girl, don't you? You know you're not going to be fit to live with till you do. You know that.'

"And it was true. She wouldn't have been.

"So the next day, they went over to Georgia and got her.

"I admired Ruth for having the courage to walk away like that. It took real courage in those days, not like today, honey. Back then, if you were married, you stayed married. But she was a lot stronger than people knew. Everybody was always treating Ruth like a china doll, but you know, she was a lot stronger than Idgie in many ways."

“Did Ruth ever get a divorce?"

"Oh, I don't know that. That's something I never asked. I just figured that was Ruth's business. I never met her husband, but they say that he was handsome, all except that glass eye. Ruth told me he had come from a nice family, but just had a mean streak where women were concerned. Said on their wedding night, he got drunk and forced her, while the whole time she was begging him to stop."

"How awful."

"Yes, it was. She bled for three days, and after that, she never could relax and enjoy herself. And, of course, that just made him madder. And she said he kicked her down a flight of stairs once."

"Good Lord!"

"Then he started forcing himself on the poor colored girls he had working for him. Ruth said one little girl was only twelve years old. But by the time she found out what kind of a man he was, it was too late. Ruth's mother was sick, and she couldn't leave. She said that on the nights he would come home mean and drunk and force her, she'd lie there and pray to God and think about us to keep herself from going crazy."

Evelyn said, "They say you never know a man until you live with him."

"That's right. Sipsey used to say, 'You never know what kind of fish you've got till you pull it out of the water'—so it's best that Stump never met his daddy. Ruth left before he was born. As a matter of fact, she didn't even know she was pregnant at the time. She'd been over there with Idgie about two months before she noticed that her stomach was just a-pooching out. Went to the doctor and found out she was expecting. He was born over at the big house, and he was the cutest little blond baby, weighed seven pounds and had brown eyes and blond hair.

"Momma said, the first time she saw him, 'Oh look, Idgie, he's got your hair!"

"And he did. He was just as blond as could be. That's when Poppa Threadgoode sat Idgie down and told her that now that she was going to be responsible for Ruth and a baby, she'd better figure out what she wanted to do, and gave her five hundred dollars to start a business with. That's what she bought the cafe with."

Evelyn asked if Frank Bennett had known he had a child.

"I don't know if he did or not."

"He never saw her at all after she left Georgia?"

"Well, I cain't say for a fact if he ever did or not, but one thing's for sure, he came over to Whistle Stop at least once, and it may have been one time too may, as far as he was concerned."

"Why do you say that?"

" 'Cause he was the one that was murdered."

"Murdered!"

"Oh yes, honey. Deader than a doornail."

SEPTEMBER 18, 1928

When Ruth had gone home that summer to marry, Frank Bennett and her mother had been at the station to meet her. Ruth had forgotten how handsome he was and how happy it had made her mother that she had made such an important catch.

Almost immediately, the parties started, and she tried to shut out any thoughts of Whistle Stop. But sometimes, in the middle of a crowd or alone at night, she never knew when it was going to happen, Idgie would suddenly come to mind, and she would want to see her so bad that the pain of longing for her sometimes took her breath away.

Whenever it happened, she would pray to God and beg Him to take such thoughts out of her head. She knew that she must be where she should be and doing the right thing. She would get over missing Idgie. Surely, He would help her. . . surely, this feeling would pass in time . . . with His help, she would make it pass.

She had gone to her wedding bed determined to be a good, loving wife, no matter what, holding nothing back. That's why it had been such a shock when he had taken her with so much violence—almost as if he were punishing her. After he was finished, she lay there in her own blood and he got up and went into the other room to sleep. He never came back to her bed unless he wanted sex; and then, nine times out of ten, it had been because he was too drunk or too lazy to go into town.

Ruth couldn't help but think that something inside of her had caused him to hate her; that somehow, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, Frank felt the love inside she had for Idgie. It had slipped out somehow, in her voice, her touch; she didn't know how, but she believed he must have known and that's why he despised her. So she had lived with that guilt and taken the beatings and the insults because she thought she deserved them.

The doctor came out of her mother's room. "Mrs. Bennett, she's started to talk a little, you might want to go in for a while."

Ruth went in and sat down.

Her mother, who hadn't spoken in a week, opened her eyes and saw her daughter. She whispered, "You get away from

him. . . . Ruth, promise me. He's the devil. I've seen God, and he's the devil. I hear things, Ruth . . . you get away . . . promise me . . .”

It was the first time this shy woman had ever said anything about Frank. Ruth nodded and held her hand. That afternoon, the doctor closed her mother's eyes for good.

Ruth cried for her mother and, an hour later, went upstairs, washed her face, and addressed the envelope to Idgie.

After she sealed it, she went over to the window and looked up at the blue sky. She took a deep breath of fresh air and felt her heart rising like a kite that some child had just released to the heavens.

SEPTEMBER 21, 1928

A car and a truck pulled up in front of the house. Big George and Idgie were in the truck; Cleo and Julian and two of their friends, Wilbur Weems and Billy Limeway, were in the Model T.

Ruth, who had been dressed and waiting since early that morning, hoping they would come today, stepped out the door.

The boys and Big George got out and waited in the yard, and Idgie went up on the front porch. Ruth looked at her and said, "I'm ready." Frank had been taking a nap when he heard them driving up. He came down the stairs and recognized Idgie through the screen.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He threw open the door and was heading for her when he saw the five men standing in the yard.

Idgie, who had not taken her eyes off Ruth, said quietly, "Where's your trunk?"

"Upstairs."

Idgie called to Cleo, "It's upstairs."

As four men marched by him, Frank spluttered, "What the hell's going on?"

Julian, the last one, said, "I think your wife's leaving you, mister."

Ruth had gotten into the truck with Idgie, and Frank started toward them when he saw Big George, who was leaning against the truck, calmly pull a knife out of his pocket and core the apple he had in his hand with one swift movement, and throw it over his shoulder.

Julian yelled down from the top of the stairs, "I wouldn't get that nigger mad, mister. He's crazy!"

Ruth's trunk was in the back of the truck, and they were headed down the driveway before Frank knew what had happened. But as an afterthought, and for the benefit of Jake Box, his hired hand, who had witnessed the exit, Frank Bennett screamed at the dust the cars had stirred up,  "And don't you come back, you frigid bitch! You whore! You coldhearted whore!"

The next day, he went into town and told everyone that Ruth had gone completely out of her mind with grief after her mother died. He had been forced to have her committed to an insane asylum, outside of Atlanta.

SEPTEMBER 21, 1928

Momma and Poppa Threadgoode were on the front porch waiting. Momma and Sipsey had been fixing up Ruth's room all morning, and now Sipsey was in the kitchen with Ninny, baking biscuits for supper.

"Now, Alice, don't jump at her and scare her off. Just be calm and wait and see. Don't make her think she has to stay. Don't put any pressure on her."

Momma was fidgeting with her handkerchief and pulling at her hair, a sure sign that she was nervous. "I won't, Poppa. I’ll just say how glad we are to see her . . . that's all right, isn't it? Let her know she's welcome? You're going to say how glad you are to see her, aren't you?"

"Of course I will," Poppa said. "But I just don't want you getting your hopes up too much, that's all."

After a minute of silence, he asked, "Alice ... do you think she’ll stay?"

"I pray to the Lord she does."

At that moment, the truck, with Ruth and Idgie, turned the corner.

Poppa said, "They're here! Ninny and Sipsey, they're here!"

 Momma jumped up and flew down the front steps, with poppa right behind her.

When they saw Ruth get out of the car and how thin and weary she looked, they forgot their plan and grabbed her and hugged her, both talking to her at the same time.

"I'm so glad you're home, honey. We're not gonna let you run off from us this time."

"We got your old room ready, and Sipsey and Ninny have been cooking all morning."

As they walked Ruth up the stairs, Momma turned and looked back down at Idgie.

"You better behave yourself this time, young lady! Do you hear me?"

Idgie looked baffled and said to herself as she followed them inside, "What'd I do?"

After supper, Ruth went into the parlor with Momma and Poppa and closed the door. She sat across from them with her hands in her lap, and began, "I don't have any money, I really don't have anything but my clothes. But I can work. I want you both to know that I'll never leave again. I should never have left her four years ago, I know that now. But I'm going to try and make it up to her and never hurt her again. You have my word on that."

Poppa, who was embarrassed at any sort of sentiment, shifted in his chair. "Well, I hope you're aware of what you're in for. Idgie's a handful, you know."

Momma shushed him. "Oh Poppa, Ruth knows that. Don't you, dear? It's just that she has a wild streak. . . Sipsey says it's because I ate wild game when I was carrying Idgie. Remember, Poppa, you and the boys brought home some quail and wild turkeys that year?"

"Mother, you have eaten wild game every year of your life."

"Well, that's true, too. Anyhow, that's beside the point. Poppa and I just want you to know that we think of you as one of the family now, and we couldn't be happier for our little girl to have such a sweet companion as you."

Ruth got up and kissed both of them and went outside, where Idgie was waiting in the backyard, lying in the grass, listening to crickets, and wondering why she felt so drunk when she had not had a drop to drink.

After Ruth left the room, Poppa said, "See, I told you you didn't have anything to worry about."

"Me? You were the one who was worried, Poppa, not me," Momma said, and went back to her needlework.

The next day, Ruth changed her name back to Jamison and Idgie went all over town and told everybody about poor Ruth's husband, how a Brinks armored truck had turned over on him and squashed him to death. At first, Ruth was horrified that Idgie had told such a lie, but later, after the baby was born, she was glad she had.

AUGUST 31, 1940

Yard Man Run Over by Car

Vesta Adcock ran over her colored yard man, Jesse Thiggins, on her way to her Eastern Star meeting on Tuesday. Jesse had been napping under a tree when Vesta made a turn around in her front yard and the wheel rolled over his head and pushed it into the mud. When she heard him holler, she stopped the car on his chest and got out to see who it was. Some neighbors nearby came running over and picked the car up off of him.

Grady Kilgore came over and said thank God it had been raining a lot lately, because if it had not been for the mud, Jesse might have been killed, being run over like that.

At this report, Jesse is fine except for the tire marks, but Vesta said that he should not have been napping, because she pays him good money.

I guess by now most of you know that fool of a husband of mine burned down our garage the other day. He was so busy trying to fix the radio, so he and his railroad gang could listen to the baseball game that he threw his cigarette on my pile of Ladies' Home Companions that I'd been saving, and it was down to the ground in minutes. My other half was so busy trying to save his precious buzz saw I got him for his birthday that he forgot to back the car out I didn't feel so bad about the car as I did my magazines. The car didn't run anyhow.

Essie Rue's little boy, whose size has earned him the name of Pee Wee, won the $10 prize in the lima bean contest. His guess was 83 lima beans off, but Idgie says he was the closest.

By the way, Boots died and Opal says she hopes you're satisfied.

. . . Dot Weems . . .

NOVEMBER 22, 1930

It was a cold, crystal-clear day outside, and inside it was almost time for one of their radio programs to come on. Grady Kilgore was just finishing his second cup of coffee, and Sipsey, who was sweeping up the cigarette butts left over from the breakfast crowd, was the first one to see them out the window.

Quietly, two black pickup trucks had parked in front of the cafe and about twelve members of the Klan, dressed in full regalia, had slowly but deliberately gotten out and lined up outside the cafe.

Sipsey said, "Oh Lord, here dey is . . . I knowed it, I just knowed it."

Ruth, who was working behind the counter, asked Sipsey, "What is it?" and then went over to look for herself.

The minute she saw them, she called back, "Onzell, lock the back door and bring me the baby."

The men were just standing there on the sidewalk, facing the front of the cafe like white statues. One had a sign that had written on it, in bloodred letters: BEWARE OF THE INVISIBLE EMPIRE . . . THE TORCH AND THE ROPE ARE HUNGRY.

Grady Kilgore stood up and went over, looked out and picked his teeth with a toothpick while he scrutinized the men in the pointed hoods.

The radio announcer said, "And now, to the many friends who wait for him, we present, 'Just Plain Bill, Barber of Harville’. . . the story of a man who might be living right next door to you . . . "

Idgie, who had been in the bathroom, came out and saw everybody looking out of the window.

"What's going on?"

Ruth said, "Come here, Idgie."

Idgie looked out. "Oh shit!"

Onzell handed Ruth the baby and did not leave her side. Idgie said to Grady, "What the hell is this all about?"

Grady, who was still picking his teeth, said with certainty, "Them's not our boys."

"Well, who are they?"

Grady dropped his nickel on the table. "You stay here. I'm gonna damn well find out."

Sipsey was over in the corner with her broom, muttering to nobody, "I ain't scared of no white men's ghosties. No suh."

Grady went out and talked to a couple of the men. After a few minutes, one man nodded and said something to the others, and one by one, the men began to leave, as quietly as they had come.

Ruth couldn't be sure, but it seemed to her that one of the men had been staring right at her and the baby. Then she remembered something that Idgie had once said, and she looked down at the man's shoes as he was climbing into the truck. When she saw the shiny, black-polished shoes, she was suddenly terrified.

Grady came back into the cafe, unconcerned. "They didn't want nothing. They was just a bunch of old boys out to throw a little scare in you, that's all. One of them was over here the other day for something or another and saw you was selling to niggers out the back door and thought he'd try to shake you up a little bit. That's all.”

Idgie asked him what he had said to get them to leave so fast.

Grady got his hat off the hat rack, "Oh, I just told them that these are our niggers and we sure as hell don't need a bunch from Georgia coming over here telling us what we can and cain't do."

He looked Idgie right in the eye. "And I'll guaran-damn-tee you they won't be back," and he put his hat on and left.

Even though Grady was a charter member of the Dill Pickle Club and a confirmed liar, that day he had told the truth. What Idgie and Ruth didn't know was that although these Georgia boys were mean, they were not stupid enough to ever fool around with the Klan in Alabama and were smart enough to leave in a hurry and stay gone.

That's why when Frank Bennett did come back, he came alone ... and he came at night.

DECEMBER 15, 1930

Local Man Missing

Frank Bennett, 38, lifelong resident of Valdosta, was reported missing today by his younger brother, Gerald, after Jake Box, an employee of the elder Bennett, informed him of Bennett's failure to return home from a hunting trip.