Glory Be (14 page)

This is a work of historical fiction. It is based on reading and research, interviews with friends and family, and especially on my own memories. It is a made-up story, with some very true parts.

Seeds of
Glory Be
were planted the summer I was a college student working in the Mississippi Delta hometown where I was born. The library where I interned was almost shut down by a very vocal trustee who didn’t want “just anybody” — which meant anybody who wasn’t white — using the books. Like Miss Bloom, my librarian didn’t let that happen.

That same summer, another librarian introduced me to a young white civil rights worker from Ohio who spent a lot of time in our Bolivar County Library. Her story wedged itself into a memory crevice, ready to emerge in the form of historical fiction. Many years
later, I imagined that teenager as Laura Lampert.

My sister and I made up the game of Junk Poker, and I was probably as bossy as Jesslyn. I actually visited Elvis’s little Tupelo house before it became a shrine. Like Glory and Emma, I read every single Nancy Drew book with my beloved Alice. My own daddy was not a preacher but, like Brother Joe, he taught his children a lot about right and wrong.

When Robert Kennedy came to my hometown in the spring of 1967, he toured the black neighborhoods and spoke to the editor of the local newspaper. I took liberty with the truth and changed the date to fit my story.

In 1964, the town I lived in did not have a public swimming pool. Neighboring towns, however, did have pools that closed. With the goodwill of local ministers, librarians, teachers, and other community leaders, my town managed to keep our Fireman’s Park and our public school system open and intact.

My white friends and I who grew up in Mississippi and spent Freedom Summer in the South agree that, unlike the sisters in my story, we only really understood much later the events that swirled around us.

I once thought this book was about sisters, how they
grow apart and come back together. Then smart, important people showed me it was about more than sisters. Still, I would not have remembered the details of the summer of 1964 without my own sister and my friends who became part of the telling. Although I lived in the middle of the most impoverished part of the South during very turbulent times, I wish I could say I was Glory or Jesslyn. Gloriana June Hemphill and her sister were braver than I ever knew how to be.

There’s a saying that “Mississippi grows storytellers.” I was raised with stories told around the Sunday dinner table. Most nights, my grandmother dreamed up new bedtime tales for us. English teachers and librarians introduced me to the very high bar set by my state’s great literary heritage. Since I was old enough to listen, I’ve been hearing Mississippi in my head. This is one story I needed to share.

My favorite Mississippi writer, Eudora Welty, wrote: “It doesn’t matter if it takes a long time getting there; the point is to have a destination.” Although she had in mind a sea voyage, I believe that applies to writing books. I had a lot of help reaching this destination.

My New Jersey critique group — Leslie Guccione, Kay Kaiser, Ann Bushe, and Lee Hilton — listened to my early, false starts. I owe them apologies as well as thanks. Leslie saw a glimmer of a story she loved in a very early draft and passed me along to Barbara O’Connor. For that journey, I’m eternally grateful.

My Florida critique groups piloted me through the midpoints. I listened especially to the logic and creativity of Janet McLaughlin, Teddie Aggeles, Melissa Buhler, and Sue Laneve. I’m glad I did.

At the beginning of my trek, Margaret Gabel and
her New School students laughed at the right places and showed me the way. Joyce Sweeney, another gifted teacher and editor, pushed me toward the finish line.

Without the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, this book might still be languishing in a bottom drawer. Close to my destination, I met an amazing agent, Linda Pratt, at a regional Maryland SCBWI conference. She made the connection between me and my remarkably brilliant editor, Andrea Pinkney.

Although I tapped into the online oral history collections of both the Library of Congress and the University of North Carolina library, I also discovered nooks, crannies, and countless interlibrary loan opportunities in branches of both the Pinellas County, Florida, and the Morris County, New Jersey, library systems. My original research was done at the Bolivar County Library in Cleveland, Mississippi. A huge thank-you to my fellow librarians everywhere.

Southern friends dropped everything to answer my frequent, frantic questions. Is it iced or ice tea? Cut off the light or turn off the light? And the larger question:
Could this really have happened this way, at this time?
For their diverse, helpful answers, I am eternally grateful to Mimi Clark, Eileen Harrell, Beverly Jones,
Patty Horsch, Ivy Alley, and Jane Carlson. Although we all lived through the ’60s in the South, we each had our own experiences. Their collective memories as well as long hours with books by and about Mississippians inspired me, but I made up the story.

— Augusta Scattergood

Former librarian and children’s book reviewer
Augusta Scattergood
has devoted her life and career to getting books into the hands of young readers. Her reviews and articles have appeared in
The Christian Science Monitor, Delta Magazine
, the
St. Petersburg Times
, and other publications. This is her first novel.

Augusta, who lives in St. Petersburg, Florida, and Madison, New Jersey, is an avid blogger. Please visit her at
http://ascattergood.blogspot.com
.