Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

MARCH 2, 1986

Eating a cup of vanilla ice cream with a wooden spoon, Mrs. Threadgoode was reminiscing to Evelyn about the Depression …

“A lot of people died, one way or the other. It hit hard. Especially the colored, who never did have much to begin with. Sipsey said that half the people over there in Troutville would have froze or starved to death if it hadn’t been for Railroad Bill.”

This was a new name to Evelyn. “Who was Railroad Bill?”

Mrs. Threadgoode seemed surprised, “Didn’t I ever tell you about Railroad Bill?”

“No, I don’t believe you have.”

“Well, he was a famous bandit. They say he was a colored man that would sneak on the trains and throw food and coal off the government supply trains at night, and the colored people that lived along the tracks would come and get the stuff at daybreak and run home with it as fast as they could.

“I don’t believe they ever did catch him … never did find out who he was … Grady Kilgore, who was a railroad detective friend of Idgie’s, used to come in the cafe every day, and Idgie would laugh and say, ‘I hear ol’ Railroad Bill is still on the loose. What’s the matter with you boys?’ He used to get so mad, they must have put twenty extra men on the trains, at one time or another, and they offered a lifetime pass on the L & N Railroad to whoever had information about him to come forth, but nobody did. Idgie just razzed him to death over that one! But they were always good friends. He was in that Dill Pickle Club …”

“That what?”

Mrs. Threadgoode laughed. “The Dill Pickle Club, this crazy club Idgie and Grady and Jack Butts started.”

“What kind of a club was it?”

“Well, they claimed it was a breakfast and social club, but it was really just a bunch of Idgie’s ragtag friends that would all get together, she and some of the railroad men and Eva Bates and Smokey Lonesome. About all they did was drink whiskey and make up lies. They’d look you right in the eye and tell you a lie when the truth would have served them better.

“That was their fun, making up tales. Crazy tales. One time, Ruth had just come in from church and Idgie was sitting around with them and she said, ‘Ruth, I’m sorry to have to tell this, but while you were gone, Stump swallowed a 22-caliber bullet.’

“When Ruth got all excited, Idgie said, ‘Don’t worry, he’s just fine. I just took him over to Doc Hadley’s and he gave him a half a bottle of castor oil, and said it was all right to bring him home but just be careful not to point him at anyone.’ ”

Evelyn laughed. Mrs. Threadgoode said, “Well, you can imagine that Ruth didn’t care much for the idea of that club. Idgie was the president and she was always calling secret meetings. Cleo said those secret meetings were nothing more than hot polker games. But he said the club did some good things, but they would never tell you about it if they did, they’d deny it every time.

“They didn’t care anything about the Baptist preacher, Reverend Scroggins, ’cause he was a teetotaler, and every time some poor fool would ask where he could buy whiskey or live bait, they’d sent him over to the preacher’s house. Like to have driven him crazy.

“Sipsey was the only colored member, because she could tell lies right along with the rest of them. She told them about this woman she was helping who has having trouble giving birth, and how she gave her a tablespoon of snuff and she said that woman sneezed so hard that she shot that baby clear across the end of the bed and into the other room …”

Evelyn said, “Oh no!”

“Oh yes! Then she told them this tale about her friend Lizzy, over in Troutville, that was expecting a baby and started craving starch. Said that Lizzy took to eating it right out of the box by the handfuls, and sure enough, when that baby came, it was white as snow and stiff as a board …”

“Oh for heaven’s sake.”

“But you know, Evelyn, that could have been true. I know for a fact some of those colored women ate clay right out of the ground.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“Well, honey, that’s what I heard. Or maybe it was sticks of chalk. I forget which one. But it was either clay or chalk.”

Evelyn shook her head, smiling at her friend. “Oh Mrs. Threadgoode, you are funny.”

Mrs. Threadgoode thought about it and was pleased with herself and said, “Well, yes. I guess I am at that.”