Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

november 22, 1930

It was a cold, crystal-clear day outside, and inside it was almost time for one of their radio programs to come on. Grady Kilgore was just finishing his second cup of coffee, and Sipsey, who was sweeping up the cigarette butts left over from the breakfast crowd, was the first one to see them out the window.

Quietly, two black pickup trucks had parked in front of the cafe and about twelve members of the Klan, dressed in full regalia, had slowly but deliberately gotten out and lined up outside the cafe.

Sipsey said, “Oh Lord, here dey is … I knowed it, I just knowed it.”

Ruth, who was working behind the counter, asked Sipsey, “What is it?” and then went over to look for herself.

The minute she saw them, she called back, “Onzell, lock the back door and bring me the baby.”

The men were just standing there on the sidewalk, facing the front of the cafe like white statues. One had a sign that had written on it, in bloodred letters: BEWARE OF THE INVISIBLE EMPIRE … THE TORCH AND THE ROPE ARE HUNGRY.

Grady Kilgore stood up and went over, looked out and picked his teeth with a toothpick while he scrutinized the men in the pointed hoods.

The radio announcer said, “And now, to the many friends who wait for him, we present, ‘Just Plain Bill, Barber of Harville’… the story of a man who might be living right next door to you …”

Idgie, who had been in the bathroom, came out and saw everybody looking out of the window.

“What’s going on?”

Ruth said, “Come here, Idgie.”

Idgie looked out. “Oh shit!”

Onzell handed Ruth the baby and did not leave her side.

Idgie said to Grady, “What the hell is this all about?”

Grady, who was still picking his teeth, said with certainty, “Them’s not our boys.”

“Well, who are they?”

Grady dropped his nickel on the table. “You stay here. I’m gonna damn well find out.”

Sipsey was over in the corner with her broom, muttering to nobody, “I ain’t scared of no white men’s ghosties. No suh.”

Grady went out and talked to a couple of the men. After a few minutes, one man nodded and said something to the others, and one by one, the men began to leave, as quietly as they had come.

Ruth couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to her that one of the men had been staring right at her and the baby. Then she remembered something that Idgie had once said, and she looked down at the man’s shoes as he was climbing into the truck. When she saw the shiny, black-polished shoes, she was suddenly terrified.

Grady came back into the cafe, unconcerned. “They didn’t want nothing. They was just a bunch of old boys out to throw a little scare in you, that’s all. One of them was over here the other day for something or another and saw you was selling to niggers out the back door and thought he’d try to shake you up a little bit. That’s all.”

Idgie asked him what he had said to get them to leave so fast.

Grady got his hat off the hat rack, “Oh, I just told them that these are our niggers and we sure as hell don’t need a bunch from Georgia coming over here telling us what we can and cain’t do.”

He looked Idgie right in the eye. “And I’ll guaran-damn-tee you they won’t be back,” and he put his hat on and left.

Even though Grady was a charter member of the Dill Pickle Club and a confirmed liar, that day he had told the truth. What Idgie and Ruth didn’t know was that although these Georgia boys were mean, they were not stupid enough to ever fool around with the Klan in Alabama and were smart enough to leave in a hurry and stay gone.

That’s why when Frank Bennett did come back, he came alone … and he came at night.