Ibby looked over at Doll. “Is Crow his real name?”
“No, baby,” Queenie answered. “His real name is Cedric Cornelius Trout, bless his sorry soul.” Queenie pointed toward the back window. “The way his mama used to tell it, he was so ugly when he came into this world that he scared all the crows out of the field, every single one of them. So she nicknamed him Scarecrow. Later on they just start calling him Crow.”
“Mama’s just kidding,” Doll said.
“No, I ain’t,” Queenie shot back. “That’s the Lawd’s truth.”
“You never told me that story about how Daddy really got his name.”
“You never asked,” Queenie said before turning to Ibby. “Now, Miss Ibby, why don’t you run out back and help Crow wash that car? He’s looking mighty lonely out there. Just don’t go messing with my vegetable garden, you hear?”
After the screened door slammed shut, Doll turned to her mother. “You just trying to get Miss Ibby out of the house so Miss Fannie don’t notice the eye, ain’t you?”
“There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
Later that afternoon, Doll yelled through the screened door, “Daddy, get on in here!”
“What now?” He tossed his sponge into the bucket and turned off the hose.
“Just come on,” she said urgently.
Doll held the door open for her father, then settled herself onto a stool by the window. Ibby came in a few minutes later.
“Why’s everybody so quiet?” Ibby asked.
Doll put her finger up to her mouth. “Just listen.” She tilted her head toward the radio. “The president’s about to come on and give an address.”
Queenie had her elbows on the kitchen counter with her head bent toward the transistor radio. Crow took a few steps closer to Queenie as she reached over to turn the volume up.
“The following announcement is broadcast from the East Room of the White House,” came a voice on the radio. “I give you Lyndon B. Johnson, the president of the United States.”
There was a ruffling noise, like papers being shuffled, and then another voice came on the radio. “My fellow Americans.”
“Think he really did it?” Doll whispered to her mother as she fidgeted, barely able to control her excitement.
Queenie put her finger up to her mouth.
“I am about to sign into law the Civil Rights Act of 1964. I want to take this occasion to talk to you about what the law means to every American.” President Johnson cleared his throat. “One hundred and eighty-eight years ago this week, a small band of valiant men began a long struggle for freedom. They pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor not only to found a nation, but to forge an ideal of freedom—not only for political independence, but for personal liberty.”
Doll noticed Ibby was swinging her feet back and forth as if she were bored. She had to fight the urge to go over and shake her. She wanted to say Listen to what the president is saying! Listen! She closed her eyes, the sound of her own breathing resonating in her ears.
“This is a proud triumph. . . . Now our generation of Americans has been called on to continue the unending search for justice within our own borders. We believe that all men are created equal. Yet many are denied equal treatment.”
Doll opened her eyes and glanced over at Crow. There were tears in the corner of her father’s eyes. Poor Daddy, she thought. If anybody understands the meaning of what the president is saying, it’s him. Lawd knows he’s been through the wringer, knows firsthand what Jim Crow can do to a man, make him feel lower than a barn animal.
“The purpose of this law is simple,” the president said, emphasizing the word simple. “It does not restrict the freedom of any American, so long as he respects the rights of others. It does not give special treatment to any citizen. It does say the only limit to a man’s hope for happiness, and for the future of his children, shall be his own ability. It does say,” the president continued, “that those who are equal before God shall now also be equal in polling booths, in the classrooms, in the factories, and in hotels, restaurants, movie theaters, and other places that provide service to the public.”
Crow was nodding with every word the president uttered, and Queenie was staring at the radio with ferocious intensity.
“Its purpose is to promote a more abiding commitment to freedom, a more constant pursuit of justice, and a deeper respect for human dignity. . . . This Civil Rights Act is a challenge to all of us to go to work in our communities and our states, in our homes and in our hearts, to eliminate the last vestiges of injustice in our beloved country. . . . My fellow citizens, we have come now to a time of testing. We must not fail. Let us close the springs of racial poison. . . . Thank you and good night.” There was a loud noise as the microphone was pushed away.