Read the Watsons Go to Birmingham 1963 Online for Free

  Dear Reader,

The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963 was my first novel, and its impact has been greater than I ever imagined. Millions of children accept enjoyed it. And now … gulp … it'due south being made into a television receiver picture!

When ane of my novels is being adjusted to another medium, I worry. Some authors say their books are their babies, and that metaphor rings truthful here; both baby and novel require countless hours of nurturing, and worry, and a squad, if they are to flourish. So many things tin can get wrong in the transition from volume to feature film. Would my baby be given proper care?

My worries disappeared when my family and I arrived on the fix, considering every fellow member of the cast and crew was defended to making this novel come live. 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'due south book to a moving picture is to succeed, the spirit of the book must be kept alive. I am so happy and honored that the spirit with which I wrote the novel is reflected in the film.

September fifteen, 2013, is the fiftieth anniversary of the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama, the effect that inspired The Watsons Get to Birmingham—1963. In recognition of the anniversary, the motion picture 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 ten years and for handling information technology with such love and amore.

Sincerely,

Christopher Paul Curtis

Beloved Reader,

I kickoff encountered The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963 when I was looking for a volume to read to my children that featured a family that closely resembled ours. I read the story to my young son and daughter and nosotros laughed out loud, cried a bit and and so had an important conversation about America and some of its difficult past. The characters Christopher Paul Curtis created stayed with me and were so vivid they were practically begging me to bring them to life … on the screen. Equally a screenwriter, I was excited to requite the spirit of Christopher Paul Curtis's narrative a visual life, specially by capturing the lively family dynamic. I also wanted to give the viewer a sense of what life would have been similar in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1963 and to show how families tried to protect their children and manage living in the segregated S. It was of bang-up 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 upwardly together for what they believe in, they can alter the world. Finally, it was pivotal that we recognize and acknowledge 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 information technology has been fifty years since the events that took place in 1963, it is critical that we remember our history. It is important to understand where nosotros came from to understand our present and to make sure we are moving forward. In many ways we have fabricated great progress, but the march continues, and it is imperative to root out injustice wherever it may exist.

Ultimately, The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963, the book and the film, is a story of dear … love of family, love of community, beloved of country even in the face up of monsters.

Thanks, Christopher Paul Curtis, for giving us this beautiful story.

Very truly yours,

Tonya Lewis Lee

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

Text copyright © 1995 by Christopher Paul Curtis

Cover art copyright © 2013 past Walden Media, LLC, and ARC Entertainment, LLC.

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

All rights reserved. Published in the Us by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children'due south Books, a division of Random Firm, Inc., New York. Originally published in hardcover in the Usa past Delacorte Printing, an banner of Random House Children'south Books, New York, in 1995.

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

Visit us on the Web! randomhouse.com/kids

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

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Information is bachelor upon request.

eISBN: 978-0-385-38295-3

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

Random Business firm Children's Books supports the Get-go Subpoena and celebrates the correct to read.

v3.1_r2

This book is dedicated to my parents,

Dr. Herman and Leslie Lewis Curtis,

who have given their children both

roots and wings and encouraged usa to soar;

and to my sister, Cydney Eleanor Curtis,

who has been unfailingly supportive,

kind and herself.

In memory of

Addie Mae Collins

Built-in iv/18/49, died nine/15/63

Denise McNair

Born 11/17/51, died ix/15/63

Carole Robertson

Born 4/24/49, died 9/15/63

Cynthia Wesley

Born 4/30/49, died nine/15/63

the toll for one day in one metropolis

Contents

Cover

Notes to the Reader

Championship Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

2. Give, My Regards to Clark, Poindexter

three. The Globe's Greatest Dinosaur War Always

iv. Froze-Upward Southern Folks

5. Nazi Parachutes Attack America and Go Shot Downwardly over the Flint River by Captain Byron Watson and His Flamethrower of Decease

6. Swedish Cremes and Welfare Cheese

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

8. The Ultra-Glide!

9. The Watsons Get to Birmingham—1963

10. Tangled Upwardly in God'south Beard

11. Bobo Brazil Meets the Sheik

12. That Dog Won't Hunt No More

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

xiv. Every Bird and Problems in Birmingham Stops and Wonders

15. The Earth-Famous Watson Pet Hospital

Epilogue

Photo Insert

Acknowledgments

About the Writer

I. And You Wonder Why We Get Chosen the Weird Watsons

Information technology was 1 of those super-duper-cold Saturdays. 1 of those days that when you lot breathed out your jiff kind of hung frozen in the air like a hunk of smoke and you could walk along and look exactly similar a railroad train bravado out big, fat, white puffs of smoke.

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

zip.

It was fifty-fifty cold inside our house. Nosotros put sweaters and hats and scarves and 3 pairs of socks on and still were common cold. The thermostat was turned all the manner upward and the furnace was banging and sounding like it was about to blow upward but information technology all the same felt like Jack Frost had moved in with us.

All of my family sat existent shut together on the couch under a blanket. Dad said this would generate a footling heat but he didn't have to tell us this, it seemed like the cold automatically made us want to get together and huddle up. My little sister, Joetta, sabbatum in the middle and all y'all could see were her optics because she had a scarf wrapped effectually her caput. I was next to her, and on the outside was my mother.

Momma was the only one who wasn't built-in in Flint so the cold was coldest to her. All y'all could meet were her eyes too, and they were shooting bad looks at Dad. She always blamed him for bringing her all the fashion from Alabama to Michigan, a state she called a giant icebox. Dad was bundled upwards on the other side of Joey, trying to expect at anything just Momma. Next to Dad, sitting with a little infinite between them, was my older brother, Byron.

Byron had just turned thirteen and then he was officially a teenage juvenile delinquent and didn't think information technology was "cool" to touch anybody or permit anyone bear upon him, even if it meant he froze to death. Byron had tucked the blanket betwixt him and Dad down into the cushion of the couch to brand sure he couldn't be touched.

Dad turned on the TV to try to make united states of america forget how cold we were but all that did was get him in trouble. There was a special news report on Aqueduct 12 telling most how bad the weather was and Dad groaned when the guy said, "If you think it's cold now, await until tonight, the temperature is expected to drop into tape-low territory, peradventure reaching the negative twenties! In fact, we won't exist seeing anything higher up cipher for the side by side four to five days!" He was smiling when he said this merely none of the Watson family thought it was funny. We all looked over at Dad. He just shook his head and pulled the blanket over his optics.

And then the guy on Boob tube said, "Here'southward a footling something we can use to brighten our spirits and give united states some hope for the futurity: The temperature in Atlanta, Georgia, is forecast to accomplish …" Dad coughed existent loud and jumped off the couch to turn the Television off but we all heard the weatherman say, "… the mid-seventies!" The guy might besides have tied Dad to a tree and said, "Prepare, aim, fire!"

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

"Wilona …," Dad said.

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

"Who?" I asked.

Dad said, "Oh Lord, non that sorry story. You've got to let me tell nigh what happened with him."

Momma said, "There's not a whole lot to tell, just a story near a young girl who made a bad pick. Just if you do tell information technology, make sure you get all the facts right."

Nosotros all huddled as close as nosotros could become because we knew Dad was going to try to make united states forget about being cold by cutting up. Me and Joey started smile correct away, and Byron tried to wait cool and bored.

"Kids," Dad said, "I nearly wasn't your father. You lot guys came real shut to having a clown for a daddy named Hambone Henderson.…"

"Daniel Watson, yous stop right at that place. You're the one who started that 'Hambone' nonsense. Before you started that everyone called him his Christian name, Moses. And he was a respectable boy likewise, he wasn't a clown at all."

"Merely the name stuck, didn't it? Hambone Henderson. Me and your grandad called him that because the boy had a head shaped but like a hambone, had more knots and bumps on his caput than a dinosaur. So every bit you guys sit here giving me these dingy looks because it's a lilliputian chilly outside ask yourselves if y'all'd rather be a little cool or go through life existence known as the Hambonettes."

Me and Joey cracked up, Byron kind of chuckled and Momma put her hand over her mouth. She did this whenever she was going to give a smile because she had a corking large gap between her forepart teeth. If Momma thought something was funny, first you'd see her trying to go along her lips together to hide the gap, and then, if the smiling got to exist too potent, you'd meet the gap for a hot second before Momma'due south mitt would come upwardly to cover it, and then she'd crack upwards also.

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

He stood in front end of the Television set. "Yup, Hambone Henderson proposed to your mother around the same time I did. Fought dirty likewise, told your momma a pack of lies near 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 near the weather condition upward that far north in Flintstone, Mitch-again, heard information technology'southward colder than inside a icebox. Seen a picture show nigh it, retrieve information technology was made in Flintstone. Picture called Nanook of the Northward. Yup, exercise believe for certain it was made in Flint. Uh-huh, Flint, Mitch-again.

"Folks at that place live in these things chosen igloos. According to what I seen in this hither movie most the folks in Flint is Chinese. Don't believe I seen nan 1 colored person in the whole dang city. You a 'Bama gal, don't believe y'all'd be besides happy living in no igloo. Own't got goose egg 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. Only thing them Chinese folks in that movie et was whales and seals. Don't believe y'all'd like no whale meat. Don't gustatory modality a lick like chicken. Don't taste like pork at all."

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

"You know Birmingham is a good place, and I don't hateful just the atmospheric condition either. The life is slower, the people are friendlier—"

"Oh yep," Dad interrupted, "they're a express joy a minute down there. Let's run into, where was that 'Coloreds Only' bathroom downtown?"

"Daniel, you know what I mean, things aren't perfect simply people are more honest nearly the fashion they feel"—she took her hateful optics off Dad and put them on Byron—"and folks in that location do know how to respect their parents."

Byron rolled his optics like he didn't care. All he did was tuck the blanket farther into the burrow'south absorber.

Dad didn't like the direction the conversation was going so he called the landlord for the hundredth time. The phone was still decorated.

"That ophidian in the grass has got his phone off the hook. Well, information technology's going to be as well cold to stay here tonight, let me call Cydney. She only had that new furnace put in, maybe we can spend the dark there." Aunt Cydney was kind of mean simply her business firm was always warm then we kept our fingers crossed that she was dwelling.

Everyone, fifty-fifty Byron, cheered when Dad got Aunt Cydney and she told us to hurry over earlier nosotros froze to decease.

Dad went out to endeavour and become the Dark-brown Bomber started. That was what we called our auto. It was a 1948 Plymouth that was dull brown and real big, Byron said information technology was turd brown. Uncle Bud gave information technology to Dad when it was xiii years old and we'd had information technology for ii years. Me and Dad took real good care of it only some of the fourth dimension it didn't like to start up in the wintertime.

After five minutes Dad came back in huffing and puffing and slapping his arms across his chest.

"Well, it was touch and go for a while, but the Not bad Brown I pulled through once again!" Everyone cheered, only me and Byron quit auspicious and started frowning right away. By the way Dad smiled at us we knew what was coming adjacent. Dad pulled two water ice scrapers out of his pocket and said, "O.K., boys, let'due south get out at that place and knock those windows out."

We moaned and groaned and put some more than coats on and went outside to scrape the motorcar's windows. I could tell by the manner he was pouting that Byron was going to endeavor and become out of doing his share of the piece of work.

"I'm not going to do your function, Byron

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

"Shut upwardly, punk."

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

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

"Shut your stupid mouth, I got something more than important to do right now."

I peeked around the back of the car to encounter what By was up to. The only matter he'd scraped off was the outside mirror and he was bending down to look at himself in information technology. He saw me and said, "You know what, square? I must be adopted, there just ain't no mode 2 folks as ugly equally your momma and daddy coulda requite birth to someone as abrupt every bit me!"

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

I said, "Forget you lot," and went dorsum over to the other side of the car to end the back window. I had half of the water ice off when I had to stop again and grab my breath. I heard Byron mumble my name.

I said, "You recollect I'm stupid? It'south non going to work this time." He mumbled my name once again. It sounded like his oral cavity was full of something. I knew this was a trick, I knew this was going to be How to Survive a Blizzard, Office Two.

How to Survive a Blizzard, Part One had been last night when I was outside playing in the snowfall and Byron and his running buddy, Buphead, came walking by. Buphead has officially been a juvenile delinquent even longer than Byron.

"Say, child," Past had said, "you wanna acquire somethin' that might salve your stupid life i twenty-four hour period?"

I should have known better, but I was bored and I think maybe the cold weather was making my encephalon slow, so I said, "What's that?"

pelloethable.blogspot.com

Source: https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/christopher-paul-curtis/45519-the_watsons_go_to_birmingham-1963.html

Share this post