Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe (20 page)

Sunday, Miss Ruth Anne Jamison became the bride of Mr. Frank Corley Bennett, the Reverend James Dodds officiating. The bride wore a white lace dress and carried a bouquet of tiny sweetheart roses. The groom’s brother, Gerald Bennett, stood as best man.

The bride is the daughter of Mrs. Elizabeth Jamison and the late Reverend Charles Jamison. The former Miss Jamison was graduated from Valdosta High School with honors, and attended the Baptist Seminary for young women in Augusta, and is a well-known and respected church worker in this area. The groom, Mr. Frank Corley Bennett, was graduated from Valdosta High School, and later served four years in the military, where he received a wound and was awarded a Purple Heart.

After enjoying a two-week honeymoon in Tallulah Falls, Georgia, the couple will reside at the family home of the groom, ten miles south of town. Mrs. Bennett will continue to teach her Sunday School class when she returns.

It was the morning of Ruth’s wedding; Idgie had borrowed Julian’s car and had been parked across the street from the Morning Dove Baptist Church since seven o’clock. Four hours later, she saw Ruth and her mother go into the side door of the church. Ruth looked as beautiful in her wedding gown as Idgie thought she would.

Later, she saw Frank Bennett and his brother arrive. She sat there watching the guests go in, one by one, until the church was full. When the usher, in his white gloves, closed the doors, her heart sank, but she could still hear the organ from inside the church when the “Wedding March” started, and she felt sick.

Idgie had been drinking a bottle of rotgut rye since six o’clock that morning, and just before the bride said “I do,” everyone in the church was wondering who was outside in the car blowing their horn like that.

After a minute, Idgie heard the organ start up again, and all of a sudden, the church doors burst open and Ruth and Frank came running down the steps, laughing, with people cheering
and throwing rice. They jumped into the back of the waiting car and drove off.

Idgie blew her horn once more. Ruth looked around just as they turned the corner, a second too late to see who it was.

Idgie threw up on the side of Julian’s car, all the way home to Alabama.

Ed Couch had picked up Big Momma from the nursing home on Easter morning, and she had spent the day with them. Evelyn had wanted to invite Mrs. Threadgoode, but Ed said that it might upset Big Momma, and God knows we didn’t want Big Momma upset; as it was, she might not go back. So Evelyn had cooked this huge meal for just the three of them, and after dinner, Ed and Big Momma went in the den and watched television.

Evelyn had planned to ride back to the nursing home with them so she could at least say hello to Mrs. Threadgoode, but her son had called her long distance, just as they were headed out the door. Big Momma, who had whined all through dinner about how she hated Rose Terrace, was dressed and ready to go, so Evelyn told Ed to go on without her.

Consequently, it had been two weeks since she had seen her friend, and when she did, she got a surprise …

“I went to the beauty shop and got my hair fixed for Easter. How do you like it?”

Evelyn didn’t know what to say; someone had dyed Mrs. Threadgoode’s hair bright purple.

“Well, you got your hair fixed.”

“Yes. I always want to look my best for Easter.”

Evelyn sat down and smiled like nothing was wrong. “Who did it for you, darling?”

Mrs. Threadgoode said, “Well, believe it or not, it was a student from the beauty college over in Birmingham. Sometimes they come out here and do our hair for free, just to get a little practice. Mine was a tiny little thing and she worked so hard, I tipped her fifty cents. Now, where else in the world can you get your hair shampooed, colored, and set for fifty cents?”

Evelyn was curious. “How old was the girl?”

“Oh, she was a full-grown woman, only she was tiny, she had to stand on a box while she did my hair. I’d say she was about two inches away from being a midget. Of course, I don’t let any handicap like that bother me, and I love a midget.… I wonder whatever happened to that little midget that sold cigarettes?”

“Where?”

“On the radio and TV. They used to dress him up like a bellboy, sold Phillip Morris cigarettes. You remember!”

“Oh yes. I know who you’re talking about now.”

“Oh, I used to get the biggest kick out of him. I always wished he would come to Whistle Stop so I could sit him on my lap and play with him.”

Evelyn had brought dyed eggs, candy corn, and Easter chocolates, and told Mrs. Threadgoode that they would celebrate all over again this week since she had not been with her on the actual day. Mrs. Threadgoode thought that was a fine idea, and told Evelyn that candy corn was her favorite and that she liked to bite the white tips off first and save the rest for later, and she proceeded to do so as she reported on Easter.

“Oh Evelyn, I wish you could have been out here. The nurses hid eggs all over. We put some in our pockets and in our rooms and the entire third grade from Woodlawn came out and they were the cutest things, running up and down the hall. Oh, they had the grandest time! And it meant so much for these old people out here, most of them are just starved to see youngsters. I think it cheered everybody up. Old people need to see children every once in a while,” she whispered confidentially.
“It lifts their spirits. Some of these real old ladies they have out here just sit in their wheelchairs all hunched over … but when the nurses give them a baby doll to hold, you’d be surprised at how they just sit right up, holding on to their dolls. Most of them think it’s their own babies they’ve got.

“And guess who else came out here Easter?”

“Who?”

“That weather girl from the television station … I forget her name, but she’s famous.”

“Well, that must have been very nice.”

“Oh, it was … but, you know what?”

“What?”

“It just dawned on me. Not one famous person ever came to Whistle Stop … except Franklin Roosevelt and Mr. Pinto, the criminal, but they were both dead at the time, so it doesn’t count. Poor old Dot Weems never did have anything exciting to write about.”

“Who was he?”

Mrs. Threadgoode was surprised. “You never heard of Franklin Roosevelt?”

“No, Mr. Pinto.”

“You never heard of Mr. Pinto?”

“Pinto? You mean like a pinto pony?”

“No honey, like a pinto bean. Seymore Pinto. He was a famous murderer!”

“Oh … no, well, I guess he was before my time.”

“Well, you’re lucky, because he was a mean somebody. I think he was half Indian, or maybe he was Eye-talian, but whatever he was, you wouldn’t want to meet up with him on a dark night, I can tell you that.”

Mrs. Threadgoode finished her candy corn and bit the head off one of her chocolate bunnies. She looked at it. “Sorry, mister.” Then she said, “You know, Evelyn, I guess I’m the only one out here that’s having myself two Easters. It may be a sin, but I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

Mr. Pinto, the famous murderer, passed through Whistle Stop on the 7:15 from Mobile. The train stopped for only ten minutes, and Stump Threadgoode and Peggy Hadley got a picture of the dead man, and when it is developed, Idgie will put it up in the cafe.

Idgie took her Cub Scout troop over to Birmingham, to Kiddyland Park, and then to the Five Points Theater to see I
Was a Fugitive from a Chain Gang
, which they all enjoyed.

Idgie says that she has a genuine shrunken head from headhunters in South America, and it is on the counter at the cafe, if you want to see it.

Is there anybody out there that can cure snoring? If so, come over to my house. My other half is about to drive me insane. I might send him out to the dogs.
Even one of his old hounds snores, just like he does. I told him the other day, it must run in the family. Ha. Ha.

The reward for Railroad Bill just went up again. Some people think he may be from around here. The big question is: Who is Railroad Bill? I would even suspect Wilbur, but he’s too lazy to get up in the middle of the night.

The Elks Club named Rev. and Mrs. Scroggins’s son, Bobby, Boy of the Year and we know they are proud.

 … Dot Weems …

P.S. My other half came home from the Dill Pickle Club fishing trip without any fish again and with poison ivy to boot. He said it was Idgie’s fault because she told him to sit there. Ruth said Idgie had a bad case of it too.

Stump turned off all the lights in the back room and was lying on the floor by the radio, listening to “The Shadow.” He was admiring the ring he had sent off for, the way it shone in the dark, and was waving his hand around, fascinated with the eerie green glow.

The man on the radio with the deep voice was saying,
“The weeds of crime bear … bitter fruit … crime does not pay
 …” Followed by the maniacal laugh,
“Ha! ha! ha!!!
”

Just then, Idgie came in from the cafe and threw on the lights, nearly scaring him to death.

“Guess what, Stump? Grady just told me that Mr. Pinto is coming through here in the morning, on the seven-fifteen, on his way to be buried, and they’re gonna change trains over at the yard.”

Stump jumped up, his heart still pounding. “Mr. Pinto? The real Mr. Pinto?”

“Yes. Grady said he was only gonna be here for a few minutes, just long enough to put him on the other train. I’d go with you, but I’ve got to drive your mother over to Birmingham for this church thing she’s got to go to. But if you want to see him,
Grady said you should be down there by six-thirty, and he said for you not to tell anyone, because everyone in town is likely to show up.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“And Stump, for God’s sake, don’t tell your mother I told you.”

“Okay.”

Since Stump had received a Brownie camera for his birthday, he asked Idgie if he could take a picture of Mr. Pinto.