Byron let go of my ear and thought for a second. “Kenny, things ain’t ever going to be fair. How’s it fair that two grown men could hate Negroes so much that they’d kill some kids just to stop them from going to school? How’s it fair that even though the cops down there might know who did it nothing will probably ever happen to those men? It ain’t. But you just gotta understand that that’s the way it is and keep on steppin’.”
Byron let me sniff and wipe my hand across my eyes before he slid my head back onto the linoleum and stood up. He went over and got some toilet paper and wiped my tears and my boogers off his legs. Then he let a couple of sheets of toilet paper float down and land on me and said, “Blow your nose. Wash your face. You been behind that couch long enough. It’s ’bout time you cut this mess out, Momma and Dad beginning to think your little behind is seriously on the blink. Today is the day you check out of the World-Famous Watson Pet Hospital. Don’t let me catch you back there no more. You ain’t got no cause to be ashamed or scared of nothing. You smart enough to figure this one out yourself. Besides, you getting the word from the top wolf hisself; you gonna be all right, baby bruh. I swear for God.”
He walked over to the mirror and scrunched his face up so he could look at his chin again, then used his thumb and finger to pull that long, skinny black hair out a little bit. He let the hair go, smiled at himself and ran his hands along his head like he was brushing his hair. “Shoot,” he said, “I sure wish someone would come clean and tell me who my real folks was, there just ain’t no way in hell two people as ugly as your momma and daddy could ever have a child as fine as me!”
He blew himself a kiss in the mirror, then left the bathroom. Before he shut the door I could see that Momma and Dad and Joey were standing there in a little knot trying not to let me know they were eavesdropping.
Momma whispered, “What’s going on, By? Why was Kenny crying like that, is he O.K.?”
He told her, “Kenny’s gonna be cool. He’s related to me, ain’t he?”
“Byron Watson, how many times am I going to have to tell you about saying ’ain’t’?”
Some of the time it was hard to figure Byron out. He was very right about some things and he was very wrong about some things. He was very wrong when he said the Wool Pooh was something he’d made up. If he’d ever had his ankle grabbed by it he’d know it was real, if he’d seen the way it was crouched down, crawling around in the dust and the smoke of the church in Birmingham he’d know it wasn’t some made-up garbage, if he’d ever seen those horrible toes he’d know the Wool Pooh was as serious as a heart attack.
He was also very wrong about there not being anything like magic powers or genies or angels. Maybe those weren’t the things that could make a run-over dog walk without wobbling but they were out there.
Maybe they were in the way your father smiled at you even after you’d messed something up real bad. Maybe they were in the way you understood that your mother wasn’t trying to make you the laughing “sock” of the whole school when she’d call you over in front of a bunch of your friends and use spit on her finger to wipe the sleep out of your eyes. Maybe it was magic powers that let you know she was just being Momma. Maybe they were the reason that you really didn’t care when the kids would say, “Yuck! You let your momma slob on you?” and you had to say, “Shut up. That’s my momma, we got the same germs.”
Maybe there were genies in the way your sister would throw a stupid tea party for you and you had fun even though it was kind of embarrassing to sit at a little table and sip water out of plastic teacups.
Maybe there were magic powers hiding in the way your older brother made all the worst thugs in the neighborhood play basketball with you even though you double-dribbled every time they threw you the ball.
And I’m sure there was an angel in Birmingham when Grandma Sands wrapped her little arms around all of the Weird Watsons and said, “My fambly, my beautiful, beautiful fambly.”
I climbed up on the toilet and leaned over the sink to take a look. I smiled. Byron was very right about some things too. He was very right when he said I was too smart to believe magic powers lived behind a couch. He also knew what he was talking about when he said I was going to be all right.
Joetta banged on the bathroom door. “Kenny, Byron said you’re feeling much better now, if that’s right come on out, I gotta go to the bathroom real bad!” She said “real” like it had a million letters in it.
Some of the time I wondered if there really was something wrong with me. A few minutes ago I’d been crying on the floor like a kindergarten baby and now I was looking in the mirror laughing. I blew my nose and splashed a little water on my face ’cause I wanted to go out. Besides, I had to think of a way to get at least half of my dinosaurs back from Rufus.
“Come on in, Joey.”
EPILOGUE
At the time of the Watson family’s trip, the U.S. South was caught up in a struggle for basic human rights that became known as the civil rights movement. Although the Declaration of Independence states that all men are created equal and the Constitution had been amended after the Civil War to extend the rights and protections of citizenship to African Americans, changing the law of the land did not always change the way people behaved. In the Northern, Eastern and Western states, African Americans often faced discrimination, but it was not as extreme and pervasive as in the South. There communities and states passed laws that allowed discrimination in schooling, housing and job opportunities; prohibited interracial marriages; and enforced segregation by creating separate facilities for African Americans and whites.
In most of the South, African Americans were not permitted to attend the same schools as whites or to use the same parks, playgrounds, swimming pools, hospitals, drinking fountains or bathrooms. Hotels, restaurants and stores would not serve African Americans. The worst sections of public facilities were set aside for “Coloreds Only.” White children often attended large, well-equipped, modern schools while African American students went to one-room schoolhouses without enough books or teachers. Rigged laws and “tests” prevented African Americans from voting.
A number of organizations and individuals were working tirelessly to end segregation and discrimination: the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), as well as Thurgood Marshall, John Lewis, Ralph Abernathy, Medgar Evers, Fannie Lou Hamer and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Along with many other people whose names have been forgotten, these men and women strove to change the laws through nonviolent resistance. They adopted many of the techniques that Mohandas Gandhi had used to liberate India from British rule. Sit-ins and boycotts of stores and public transportation applied economic pressure. Freedom Riders—African Americans and whites—took bus trips throughout the South to test federal laws that banned segregation in interstate transportation. Black students had enrolled in segregated schools such as Central High in Little Rock, Arkansas, and the University of Alabama. Picketing, protest marches, and demonstrations made headlines. Civil rights workers carried out programs for voter education and registration. The goal was to create tension and provoke confrontations that would force the federal government to step in and enforce the laws. Often the tension exploded into gunshots, fires and bombings directed against the people who so bravely fought for change.
The characters and events in this novel are fictional. However, there were many unsolved bombings in Birmingham at the time of the story, including the one that took place at the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church on September 15, 1963. Four young-teenage girls—Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Wesley—were killed when a bomb went off during Sunday school. Addie Mae Collins’s sister, Sarah, had to have an eye removed, and another girl was blinded. In the unrest that followed the bombing, two other African American children died. Sixteen-year-old Johnny Robinson was shot to death by police, and thirteen-year-old Virgil Wade was
murdered by two white boys. Although these may be nothing more than names in a book to you now, you must remember that these children were just as precious to their families as Joetta was to the Watsons or as your brothers and sisters are to you.
Despite the danger, the civil rights movement grew stronger, gaining support all over the country. On August 28, 1963, two hundred thousand people marched on Washington, D.C., to pressure Congress to pass the Civil Rights Bill, and heard Martin Luther King, Jr., deliver his unforgettable “I have a dream” speech. President Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Bill on July 2, 1964, and signed the Voting Rights Act on August 6, 1965. In 1968 Congress passed the Fair Housing Act.
The individuals who supported the civil rights movement took great risks to force America to change. It was a people’s movement, inspired by the courageous acts of ordinary citizens like Rosa Parks, the seamstress from Montgomery, Alabama, who began the first great effort of the movement—the Montgomery bus boycott of 1955-56—when she refused to give up her seat to a white man.
Many heroic people died in the struggle for civil rights. Many others were injured or arrested or lost their homes or businesses. It is almost impossible to imagine the courage of the first African American children who walked into segregated schools or the strength of the parents who permitted them to face the hatred and violence that awaited them. They did it in the name of the movement, in the quest for freedom.
These people are the true American heroes. They are the boys and girls, the women and men who have seen that things are wrong and have not been afraid to ask “Why can’t we change this?” They are the people who believe that as long as one person is being treated unfairly, we all are. These are our heroes, and they still walk among us today. One of them may be sitting next to you as you read this, or standing in the next room making your dinner, or waiting for you to come outside and play.
One of them may be you.
Rear: Mr. Robert (David Alan Grier), Daniel Watson (Wood Harris); middle: Wilona Watson (Anika Noni Rose), Byron Watson (Harrison Knight), Kenny Watson (Bryce Clyde Jenkins); front: Joetta Watson (Skai Jackson)
Byron’s tongue meets the Brown Bomber.
Kenny reads a poem to Byron’s class.
Byron and Buphead (Tyrin Nyles Wyche) threaten Kenny.
Kenny, Joetta, and Byron in the Brown Bomber
Wilona and Daniel in the Brown Bomber
Kenny with Mr. Robert’s dog
The family goes to church with Grandma Sands (LaTanya Richardson Jackson).
Joetta singing in the Children’s Choir at the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama
Byron and Kenny
Skai Jackson and her on-set teacher, Mandy Friedrich
The Brown Bomber
Shooting a kitchen scene (with Kenny, Wilona, and Joetta)
Kenny and Byron’s bedroom
Kenny and Byron’s record collection
Daniel’s record collection
Shooting an outdoor scene
Director Kenny Leon and Bernice A. King, daughter of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Author Christopher Paul Curtis and Harrison Knight (Byron)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author wishes to extend his sincere thanks to the following: the Avery Hopwood and Jules Hopwood Prize of the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, for much-appreciated recognition; the staff of the Windsor Public Library, especially Terry Fisher, for providing a stimulating and supportive atmosphere in which to write; Welwyn Wilton Katz, for her valuable help; Wendy Lamb, whose skill as an editor is matched only by her patience; Joan Curtis Taylor, who forever will be a powerful exemplar of strength and hope; Lynn Guest, whose kindness and compassion are a restorative to a person’s faith in humankind; and particularly to my dear friend Liz Ivette Torres (Betty), who can’t possibly know how much her friendship, suggestions and insights have meant.
Special thanks to my daughter, Cydney, who makes me feel like a hero just for coming home from work, and to Steven, who is without a doubt the best first reader, critic and son any writer could ask for.
Finally, a salute to Stevland Morris of Saginaw, Michigan, who so vividly and touchingly reminded me of what it felt like to be “sneakin’ out the back door to hang out with those hoodlum friends of mine.”
CHRISTOPHER PAUL CURTIS won the Newbery Medal and the Coretta Scott King Award for his bestselling second novel, Bud, Not Buddy. His first novel, The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963, was also singled out for many awards, among them a Newbery Honor and a Coretta Scott King Honor, and has been a bestseller in hardcover and paperback. His most recent novels for Random House include The Mighty Miss Malone, Mr. Chickee’s Messy Mission, Mr. Chickee’s Funny Money, and Bucking the Sarge.
Christopher Paul Curtis grew up in Flint, Michigan. After high school he began working on the assembly line at the Fisher Body Plant No. 1 while attending the Flint branch of the University of Michigan. He is now a full-time writer. He lives in Detroit with his family.
Don’t miss BUD, NOT BUDDY
Winner of the Newbery Medal and the Coretta Scott King Award
It’s 1936, in Flint, Michigan. Times are hard. Ten-year-old Bud is a motherless boy on the run, and his momma never told him who his father was. But she left a clue: posters of Herman E. Calloway and his famous band, the Dusky Devastators of the Depression!!!!!!
Bud’s got an idea that those posters will lead him to his father. Once he decides to hit the road and find this mystery man, nothing can stop him—not hunger, not cops, not vampires, not even Herman E. Calloway himself.
“A crackerjack read-aloud.
—School Library Journal, Starred
“A remarkable and disarming mix of comedy and pathos.… Bud’s journey … will keep readers engrossed from first to last.”
—Publishers Weekly, Starred
Don’t miss THE MIGHTY MISS MALONE
Deza Malone met Bud Caldwell in Bud, Not Buddy. And now—here’s her story!
Deza’s family motto is: “We are a family on a journey to a place called Wonderful.”
But the Great Depression hits her hometown of Gary, Indiana, and there are few jobs. After her father leaves Gary to find work, Deza, her mother, and her brother, Jimmie—who sings like an angel—set out in search of him.
The pluck with which the endearing, sometimes comical Deza faces the twists and turns of their journey proves that she is truly the Mighty Miss Malone.
“Deza is one great heroine in her own right, a fitting literary companion to Bud Caldwell.”
—Kirkus Reviews, Starred
“Curtis threads important bits of African-American history throughout.”
—Publishers Weekly, Starred
“In this beautiful book, readers can count on Deza’s mightiness.”
—Houston Chronicle
The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963 Page 16