The Watsons Go to Birmingham Onlibe Book Where You Cab Read Online

  Dear Reader,

The Watsons Become to Birmingham—1963 was my first novel, and its impact has been greater than I always imagined. Millions of children accept enjoyed it. And now … gulp … it'southward being made into a television movie!

When 1 of my novels is being adapted to some other medium, I worry. Some authors say their books are their babies, and that metaphor rings truthful here; both babe and novel require countless hours of nurturing, and worry, and a team, if they are to flourish. And so many things can go wrong in the transition from book to feature picture show. Would my baby be given proper care?

My worries disappeared when my family and I arrived on the set, considering every member of the cast and crew was dedicated to making this novel come alive. Specially impressive were the youngest actors, Skai Jackson, Harrison Knight and Bryce Clyde Jenkins. I saw only a few scenes but was surprised by their emotional impact.

One of my favorite authors, Lois Lowry, has said that if an adaptation of a children's book to a moving-picture show is to succeed, the spirit of the volume must be kept alive. I am then happy and honored that the spirit with which I wrote the novel is reflected in the motion picture.

September xv, 2013, is the fiftieth anniversary of the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama, the result that inspired The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963. In recognition of the anniversary, the movie will premiere on the Hallmark Channel on September 20, 2013. I am very grateful to the executive producers, Tonya Lewis Lee and Nikki Silver, for sticking with this project for 10 years and for handling it with such dear and affection.

Sincerely,

Christopher Paul Curtis

Dearest Reader,

I commencement encountered The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963 when I was looking for a book to read to my children that featured a family that closely resembled ours. I read the story to my young son and daughter and we laughed out loud, cried a scrap and so had an important chat about America and some of its difficult by. The characters Christopher Paul Curtis created stayed with me and were and so vivid they were practically begging me to bring them to life … on the screen. As a screenwriter, I was excited to give the spirit of Christopher Paul Curtis's narrative a visual life, especially by capturing the lively family dynamic. I also wanted to give the viewer a sense of what life would accept been like in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1963 and to show how families tried to protect their children and manage living in the segregated South. It was of dandy importance to pay homage to the foot soldiers of the Children's Crusade of Birmingham. They truly showed the world that through nonviolence, when young people stand up up together for what they believe in, they can change the earth. Finally, information technology was pivotal that we recognize and admit Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Wesley, who perished in the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing. While that act of terror took their lives and destroyed the lives of many others, their ultimate sacrifice galvanized a nation to make all of America truly equal.

While it has been 50 years since the events that took place in 1963, it is critical that we think our history. It is important to understand where nosotros came from to understand our present and to make sure nosotros are moving frontward. In many means we accept fabricated dandy progress, but the march continues, and it is imperative to root out injustice wherever it may be.

Ultimately, The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963, the book and the motion-picture show, is a story of dear … dearest of family, dear of community, dearest of country even in the face of monsters.

Thanks, Christopher Paul Curtis, for giving u.s. this beautiful story.

Very truly yours,

Tonya Lewis Lee

This is a piece of work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Whatever resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright © 1995 by Christopher Paul Curtis

Embrace fine art copyright © 2013 by Walden Media, LLC, and ARC Entertainment, LLC.

Insert photographs copyright © 2013 past Walden Media, LLC, and ARC Entertainment, LLC. Quantrell Colbert: this folio, this folio, this page; Annette Brown: this page, this folio, this page, this folio, this page, this folio; Nick Lanzilli: this folio, this page, this folio, this page, this page, this page, this page.

All rights reserved. Published in the Usa by Yearling, an imprint of Random Business firm Children'south Books, a partitioning of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published in hardcover in the U.s.a. by Delacorte Printing, an imprint of Random Business firm Children's Books, New York, in 1995.

Yearling and the jumping horse blueprint are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Visit us on the Web! randomhouse.com/kids

Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

eISBN: 978-0-385-38295-3

The American Library Association awarded this book both a Coretta Scott Rex Honor and a Newbery Laurels in 1996. Hardcover ISBN: 978-0-385-38294-half-dozen

Random House Children's Books supports the Commencement Subpoena and celebrates the right to read.

v3.1_r2

This book is defended to my parents,

Dr. Herman and Leslie Lewis Curtis,

who have given their children both

roots and wings and encouraged us to soar;

and to my sister, Cydney Eleanor Curtis,

who has been unfailingly supportive,

kind and herself.

In retention of

Addie Mae Collins

Born 4/18/49, died nine/15/63

Denise McNair

Built-in 11/17/51, died 9/15/63

Carole Robertson

Born four/24/49, died 9/15/63

Cynthia Wesley

Built-in 4/thirty/49, died nine/fifteen/63

the toll for one day in 1 city

Contents

Cover

Notes to the Reader

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

1. And You Wonder Why We Get Called the Weird Watsons

2. Requite, My Regards to Clark, Poindexter

3. The Earth's Greatest Dinosaur War Ever

4. Froze-Up Southern Folks

5. Nazi Parachutes Set on America and Get Shot Down over the Flint River past Captain Byron Watson and His Flamethrower of Death

half dozen. Swedish Cremes and Welfare Cheese

7. Every Chihuahua in America Lines Upward to Take a Bite out of Byron

8. The Ultra-Glide!

9. The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963

10. Tangled Up in God's Beard

11. Bobo Brazil Meets the Sheik

12. That Dog Won't Chase No More

13. I See Winnie'due south Evil Twin Brother, the Wool Pooh

xiv. Every Bird and Problems in Birmingham Stops and Wonders

xv. The World-Famous Watson Pet Hospital

Epilogue

Photograph Insert

Acknowledgments

Near the Author

I. And Yous Wonder Why Nosotros Get Called the Weird Watsons

It was i of those super-duper-common cold Saturdays. Ane of those days that when yous breathed out your breath kind of hung frozen in the air similar a hunk of smoke and you could walk along and look exactly similar a railroad train blowing out big, fat, white puffs of smoke.

It was so cold that if y'all were stupid plenty to become outside your eyes would automatically blink a grand times all by themselves, probably then the juice inside of them wouldn't freeze up. It was so cold that if yous spit, the slob would be an ice cube before it hit the ground. Information technology was about a zillion degrees below

zero.

It was even cold inside our firm. Nosotros put sweaters and hats and scarves and three pairs of socks on and still were cold. The thermostat was turned all the way up and the furnace was banging and sounding similar it was about to accident upwardly only it nonetheless felt like Jack Frost had moved in with us.

All of my family sat real shut together on the couch under a blanket. Dad said this would generate a little oestrus but he didn't have to tell us this, it seemed similar the cold automatically made united states of america want to gather and huddle up. My little sister, Joetta, sat in the eye and all you could see were her optics because she had a scarf wrapped around her head. I was next to her, and on the outside was my mother.

Momma was the merely 1 who wasn't born in Flint so the common cold was coldest to her. All you could see were her eyes too, and they were shooting bad looks at Dad. She always blamed him for bringing her all the way from Alabama to Michigan, a state she called a giant icebox. Dad was bundled up on the other side of Joey, trying to look at anything but Momma. Next to Dad, sitting with a little space between them, was my older brother, Byron.

Byron had just turned thirteen and then he was officially a teenage juvenile delinquent and didn't recollect it was "cool" to touch everyone or let anyone bear on him, even if information technology meant he froze to death. Byron had tucked the coating between him and Dad down into the cushion of the couch to make sure he couldn't be touched.

Dad turned on the Boob tube to attempt to make us forget how cold we were but all that did was get him in problem. In that location was a special news report on Channel 12 telling about how bad the atmospheric condition was and Dad groaned when the guy said, "If y'all retrieve it'due south cold now, look until this evening, the temperature is expected to drib into record-low territory, possibly reaching the negative twenties! In fact, we won't be seeing annihilation higher up zip for the side by side four to five days!" He was smile when he said this but none of the Watson family thought it was funny. Nosotros all looked over at Dad. He just shook his head and pulled the blanket over his optics.

So the guy on TV said, "Here's a piddling something we tin can use to brighten our spirits and give usa some hope for the future: The temperature in Atlanta, Georgia, is forecast to reach …" Dad coughed real loud and jumped off the couch to plow the TV off only we all heard the weatherman say, "… the mid-seventies!" The guy might as well have tied Dad to a tree and said, "Gear up, aim, fire!"

"Atlanta!" Momma said. "That's a hundred and l miles from home!"

"Wilona …," Dad said.

"I knew it," Momma said. "I knew I should accept listened to Moses Henderson!"

"Who?" I asked.

Dad said, "Oh Lord, not that sorry story. You've got to let me tell nearly what happened with him."

Momma said, "There'due south non a whole lot to tell, just a story virtually a immature girl who made a bad choice. Only if y'all do tell it, make sure yous go all the facts correct."

We all huddled as close as we could get because we knew Dad was going to try to brand us forget about being cold past cut up. Me and Joey started smiling right away, and Byron tried to look absurd and bored.

"Kids," Dad said, "I almost wasn't your father. Yous guys came real close to having a clown for a daddy named Hambone Henderson.…"

"Daniel Watson, y'all cease right in that location. You're the one who started that 'Hambone' nonsense. Earlier you started that everyone called him his Christian name, Moses. And he was a respectable boy besides, he wasn't a clown at all."

"But the name stuck, didn't it? Hambone Henderson. Me and your granddaddy called him that because the boy had a head shaped simply like a hambone, had more knots and bumps on his head than a dinosaur. So every bit yous guys sit down here giving me these dirty looks because it's a picayune dank outside ask yourselves if you'd rather be a niggling absurd or go through life existence known as the Hambonettes."

Me and Joey croaky up, Byron kind of chuckled and Momma put her manus over her mouth. She did this whenever she was going to give a grin because she had a great big gap between her forepart teeth. If Momma idea something was funny, commencement y'all'd meet her trying to go on her lips together to hide the gap, then, if the grinning got to be too stiff, you'd see the gap for a hot second earlier Momma's manus would come up to cover it, then she'd cleft up too.

Laughing only encouraged Dad to cutting up more than, then when he saw the whole family thinking he was funny he really started putting on a bear witness.

He stood in front of the TV. "Yup, Hambone Henderson proposed to your mother around the aforementioned time I did. Fought dingy too, told your momma a pack of lies about me and when she didn't believe them he told her a pack of lies about Flint."

Dad started talking Southern-style, imitating this Hambone guy. "Wilona, I heard tell well-nigh the weather condition up that far northward in Flintstone, Mitch-again, heard it's colder than within a icebox. Seen a motion picture virtually information technology, think information technology was fabricated in Flint. Motion picture called Nanook of the Northward. Yup, do believe for sure it was made in Flint. Uh-huh, Flintstone, Mitch-again.

"Folks there alive in these things called igloos. Co-ordinate to what I seen in this here moving-picture show nearly the folks in Flint is Chinese. Don't believe I seen nan one colored person in the whole dang city. You a 'Bama gal, don't believe yous'd be too happy living in no igloo. Ain't got nothing against 'em, but don't believe you'd be too happy living 'mongst a whole slew of Chinese folks. Don't believe you'd like the food. But affair them Chinese folks in that motion-picture show et was whales and seals. Don't believe you'd like no whale meat. Don't taste a lick similar chicken. Don't taste like pork at all."

Momma pulled her hand abroad from her mouth. "Daniel Watson, yous are one lying man! Only thing you said that was truthful was that existence in Flint is like living in a igloo. I knew I should have listened to Moses. Maybe these babies mighta been built-in with lumpy heads only at least they'da had warm lumpy heads!

"You know Birmingham is a good place, and I don't mean merely the weather either. The life is slower, the people are friendlier—"

"Oh yes," Dad interrupted, "they're a laugh a infinitesimal down there. Let'southward see, where was that 'Coloreds Only' bathroom downtown?"

"Daniel, you know what I mean, things aren't perfect simply people are more honest near the style they feel"—she took her mean eyes off Dad and put them on Byron—"and folks there do know how to respect their parents."

Byron rolled his eyes like he didn't care. All he did was tuck the coating farther into the couch's cushion.

Dad didn't like the management the chat was going then he called the landlord for the hundredth time. The telephone was still busy.

"That serpent in the grass has got his telephone off the hook. Well, it's going to exist too cold to stay here this evening, let me call Cydney. She just had that new furnace put in, maybe nosotros can spend the night at that place." Aunt Cydney was kind of mean simply her house was always warm then we kept our fingers crossed that she was home.

Everyone, even Byron, cheered when Dad got Aunt Cydney and she told us to hurry over before we froze to death.

Dad went out to endeavour and go the Brown Bomber started. That was what nosotros called our motorcar. Information technology was a 1948 Plymouth that was slow dark-brown and real big, Byron said it was turd brownish. Uncle Bud gave it to Dad when information technology was xiii years former and we'd had it for ii years. Me and Dad took real good care of it merely some of the fourth dimension it didn't similar to showtime up in the wintertime.

After 5 minutes Dad came back in huffing and puffing and slapping his artillery across his breast.

"Well, it was touch and go for a while, but the Great Brown One pulled through again!" Everyone cheered, but me and Byron quit auspicious and started frowning right abroad. By the style Dad smiled at us we knew what was coming next. Dad pulled two ice scrapers out of his pocket and said, "O.Thousand., boys, let's get out there and knock those windows out."

We moaned and groaned and put some more coats on and went exterior to scrape the auto'south windows. I could tell by the way he was pouting that Byron was going to endeavor and get out of doing his share of the work.

"I'm non going to do your part, Byron

, you'd better do it and I'm not playing either."

"Close up, punk."

I went over to the Chocolate-brown Bomber's passenger side and started hacking away at the scab of ice that was all over the windows. I finished Momma's window and took a break. Scraping ice off of windows when it's that common cold tin can kill you!

I didn't hear any audio coming from the other side of the car so I yelled out, "I'thou serious, Byron, I'm not doing that side too, and I'm only going to do one-half the windshield, I don't care what you practise to me." The windshield on the Bomber wasn't like the new 1963 cars, it had a big bar running down the centre of it, dividing it in one-half.

"Shut your stupid rima oris, I got something more important to do right now."

I peeked effectually the dorsum of the auto to see what By was up to. The only thing he'd scraped off was the exterior mirror and he was bending down to expect at himself in information technology. He saw me and said, "You know what, square? I must exist adopted, in that location just ain't no fashion two folks every bit ugly as your momma and daddy coulda give nativity to someone as precipitous equally me!"

He was running his hands over his head like he was brushing his hair.

I said, "Forget you lot," and went back over to the other side of the automobile to cease the back window. I had one-half of the ice off when I had to stop again and catch my breath. I heard Byron mumble my name.

I said, "You recollect I'm stupid? Information technology's not going to work this time." He mumbled my proper noun once again. Information technology sounded like his mouth was full of something. I knew this was a trick, I knew this was going to be How to Survive a Blizzard, Part Ii.

How to Survive a Blizzard, Part Ane had been last night when I was outside playing in the snow and Byron and his running buddy, Buphead, came walking past. Buphead has officially been a juvenile delinquent fifty-fifty longer than Byron.

"Say, kid," By had said, "you wanna learn somethin' that might salvage your stupid life 1 day?"

I should have known better, but I was bored and I recall perchance the cold weather was making my brain dull, so I said, "What's that?"

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