“What are Palmer agents, Miss Kelley?”
Miss Kelley frowned. “Is that who those clowns were? I thought that might be it. Mr. Palmer is the U.S. attorney general, and he's got a crazy assistant named J. Edgar Hoover.” Miss Kelley rolled her eyes at the ridiculous name. “Their agents track down radicals and arrest them.”
“Arrest them for what?” said Violet.
“Mostly for being against the War,” said Miss Kelley.
“But the War is over,” said Violet.
“Parts of it are,” Miss Kelley said.
“And what are Bolshevists?” Violet asked. She had some idea, but she wanted to hear what Miss Kelley would say, especially since Miss Kelley was clearly one of those rare adults, like Chloe and Mr. Martin, who talked about things that mattered and let you ask questions.
“The Bolsheviks are the people who overthrew the czar in Russia,” said Miss Kelley. “But people just use theword to mean anybody that wants to change the way things are—to make us sound dangerous. Some people say we suffragists are Bolsheviks.”
Violet nodded. She had heard that.
“How is your little friend in the Jim Crow car?” Miss Kelley asked.
Violet looked at her, surprised.
“She's all right,” she said. “The seats aren't so nice there, but she's—fine.” Violet didn't think it was fine at all, actually, but Miss Dexter had seemed to and she was an adult.
“It's a national shame,” said Miss Kelley. “This Jim Crow business. My organization, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, is fighting to put an end to it. There's no reason decent people can't ride in a train car with each other.”
Violet stared at Miss Kelley. “But you're not colored,” she said. Then she covered her mouth, shocked at her own rudeness.
“No, I'm not, but that doesn't mean I can't fight for justice side by side with colored people.” Miss Kelley patted Violet on the shoulder. “You know it's wrong, putting your friend in another train car. When you know right from wrong, don't let anyone tell you differently.”
They both looked over at Miss Dexter.
“I won't, Miss Kelley,” said Violet, and meant it.
Soon it was time to fold down and rearrange the seats into berths. A porter came in to help them with this.Violet climbed into a top berth beside Miss Dexter. She lay awake for a long time, boxed in by the train's curving metal ceiling, the wall, the thin lumpy mattress, and Miss Dexter. She thought about Myrtle in the Jim Crow car, probably sitting up all night in that rattan seat. Finally Violet drifted off to sleep and dreamt that she was running and running, trying to catch a train that had left a long time ago.
Sometimes the train stopped at stations and Violet woke, sliding forward as her head bumped against the partition. Then she fell back asleep until the train started again and her feet hit the partition at the other end. The train whistle let out a long, loud moan each time the train came to a crossing. Finally Violet gave up sleeping and lay awake wondering what Mr. Martin had done to get people called Palmer agents after him and whether he had survived his leap into the dark.
Red and Yellow Roses
“D O YOU REALIZE THAT THE C HILD BORN IN 1920 will never know war?” Miss Dexter asked.
It was morning, and the Suffs were cooking oatmeal over the tiny cookstove at the end of the tourist car while the car changed trains at Chattanooga. Since the Suffs had rented the whole car to go to Nashville in, they didn't have to get off and change trains at the junction points. Instead, the car itself was unhitched from one train, rolled into a siding, and hitched up to another train.
“The Great War that ended in 1918 was mankind's last war,” Miss Dexter went on. “We have a League of Nations now. More than twenty countries have joined it already. In the future all difficulties between countries will be arbitrated by an international court of justice.”
Outside on the platform, a newsboy called,
Miss Kelley frowned. “Is that who those clowns were? I thought that might be it. Mr. Palmer is the U.S. attorney general, and he's got a crazy assistant named J. Edgar Hoover.” Miss Kelley rolled her eyes at the ridiculous name. “Their agents track down radicals and arrest them.”
“Arrest them for what?” said Violet.
“Mostly for being against the War,” said Miss Kelley.
“But the War is over,” said Violet.
“Parts of it are,” Miss Kelley said.
“And what are Bolshevists?” Violet asked. She had some idea, but she wanted to hear what Miss Kelley would say, especially since Miss Kelley was clearly one of those rare adults, like Chloe and Mr. Martin, who talked about things that mattered and let you ask questions.
“The Bolsheviks are the people who overthrew the czar in Russia,” said Miss Kelley. “But people just use theword to mean anybody that wants to change the way things are—to make us sound dangerous. Some people say we suffragists are Bolsheviks.”
Violet nodded. She had heard that.
“How is your little friend in the Jim Crow car?” Miss Kelley asked.
Violet looked at her, surprised.
“She's all right,” she said. “The seats aren't so nice there, but she's—fine.” Violet didn't think it was fine at all, actually, but Miss Dexter had seemed to and she was an adult.
“It's a national shame,” said Miss Kelley. “This Jim Crow business. My organization, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, is fighting to put an end to it. There's no reason decent people can't ride in a train car with each other.”
Violet stared at Miss Kelley. “But you're not colored,” she said. Then she covered her mouth, shocked at her own rudeness.
“No, I'm not, but that doesn't mean I can't fight for justice side by side with colored people.” Miss Kelley patted Violet on the shoulder. “You know it's wrong, putting your friend in another train car. When you know right from wrong, don't let anyone tell you differently.”
They both looked over at Miss Dexter.
“I won't, Miss Kelley,” said Violet, and meant it.
Soon it was time to fold down and rearrange the seats into berths. A porter came in to help them with this.Violet climbed into a top berth beside Miss Dexter. She lay awake for a long time, boxed in by the train's curving metal ceiling, the wall, the thin lumpy mattress, and Miss Dexter. She thought about Myrtle in the Jim Crow car, probably sitting up all night in that rattan seat. Finally Violet drifted off to sleep and dreamt that she was running and running, trying to catch a train that had left a long time ago.
Sometimes the train stopped at stations and Violet woke, sliding forward as her head bumped against the partition. Then she fell back asleep until the train started again and her feet hit the partition at the other end. The train whistle let out a long, loud moan each time the train came to a crossing. Finally Violet gave up sleeping and lay awake wondering what Mr. Martin had done to get people called Palmer agents after him and whether he had survived his leap into the dark.
Red and Yellow Roses
“D O YOU REALIZE THAT THE C HILD BORN IN 1920 will never know war?” Miss Dexter asked.
It was morning, and the Suffs were cooking oatmeal over the tiny cookstove at the end of the tourist car while the car changed trains at Chattanooga. Since the Suffs had rented the whole car to go to Nashville in, they didn't have to get off and change trains at the junction points. Instead, the car itself was unhitched from one train, rolled into a siding, and hitched up to another train.
“The Great War that ended in 1918 was mankind's last war,” Miss Dexter went on. “We have a League of Nations now. More than twenty countries have joined it already. In the future all difficulties between countries will be arbitrated by an international court of justice.”
Outside on the platform, a newsboy called,
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