The Colored Car: Gender, Trauma, and Uncanny Films in the Weimar Republic

5. Clarksville, Tennessee

5 78 Clarksville, Tennessee Clarksville Station! Next stop Nashville. All aboard! “Baby, we’re here. Clarksville. Come on, honey, let’s go,” May Ford said to Patsy as she leaned close to her ear and touched her gently on the shoulder. Patsy opened her eyes and looked out the window. It was morning now. They were at a train station. People, colored and white, were walking along the platform: some carrying luggage, some standing empty-handed and looking as if they were still waiting for someone to arrive by train. “Patsy, we have to get off now. We’re in Clarksville,” her mother said again, her hand still resting on her daughter’s shoulder. Patsy looked around the car and saw the wood-burning stove and a few people, colored 79 The Colored Car passengers, still sitting on the wooden seats. The odor of soot and smoke was still heavy in the air. She coughed. And then Patsy remembered: getting off the first-class train car in Cincinnati, the conductor in a rage, the strong arms of the Pullman porter carrying her to her seat in the colored car. She looked down at her dress, at the smudges of soot and dirt across the folds of her skirt. She was in the colored car. Patsy jumped up from her seat, brushing past her mother. Her sisters stood in the doorway and she rushed right by them as well, off the train and onto the platform. She stood there, looking away from the colored car and walking toward the train station. “Wait, Patsy,” her mother said. Patsy stopped and turned around. “Let’s find a porter and get our bags,” her mother said, leading Patsy and her sisters to the baggage car. Standing by the baggage car as the porter unloaded their luggage onto a cart, Laura was the first to notice: “Mama, look, over there.” She pointed in the direction of the station. On the outside wall were water fountains. Each one 80 Jean Alicia Elster had a sign overhead, one that said COLORED ONLY and the other that said WHITES ONLY. “Please take our bags to the taxi stand,” May said to the porter, a colored man wearing overalls and a straw cap. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, tipping his hat. “Why do they put those signs over the water?” Laura asked her mother. “Good Lord,” her mother replied, shaking her head. “Welcome to Clarksville. We’re in Tennessee now. We’re in the South. Things are different here. We’ll talk about it later.” “Can I have a drink from the colored fountain?” Laura asked. “No baby, we’ll have time for a nice cool drink once we get to Grandma Jackson’s house,” her mother said. “W-w-what c-c-color is the w-water?” Jean asked. “I want colored water, too!” Annie May said. With a low, emotionless voice, Patsy said, “It’s not colored water. That water fountain is for colored people to drink from. Right, mama?” “Yes, dear, you’re right,” her mother answered 81 The Colored Car with a sigh. “Now, come along girls, don’t let the porter get too far ahead of us.” Last call for Nashville, Tennessee. All aboard! The porter had pushed the cart through the door into the train station and was standing at the door, holding it open, waiting for May Ford and the girls. May held Annie May in her left arm and held Jean’s hand with her right hand. Laura and Patsy walked behind. As they followed the porter to the taxi stand, Laura said, “Mama, this station is a lot smaller than the train station in Detroit.” “Yes, it is baby.” “I don’t see any shops like in our train station. And there aren’t many people here.” “It’s a small town, honey. They don’t need a great big train station.” The porter stopped his cart at the first car at the taxi stand. Clarksville Taxi was painted in yellow letters on the back and on the side of the black car. May crouched down slightly and said to the taxi driver through the open passenger door window, “We want to go to 534 Franklin Street.” The driver, a white man, turned her way, 82 Jean Alicia Elster looked at her and the girls, then turned his head back. Still looking away from her, he said, “Don...