The Gold Cadillac
Authors: Mildred D. Taylor
“Whose car is this, boy?”
My father said he was going to drive the gold Cadillac south into Mississippi to visit my grandparents.
“Look here, Wilbert,” said one of my uncles, “it’s too dangerous. It’s like putting a loaded gun to your head.”
“I paid good money for that car,” said my father. “That gives me a right to drive it where I please. Even down to Mississippi….”
We left the city of Toledo behind, drove down through the Ohio countryside and across the Ohio River to the bluegrass hills of Kentucky. Soon we began to see signs. Signs that read:
WHITE ONLY, COLORED NOT ALLOWED
.
We saw the signs above water fountains and in restaurant windows. We saw them in front of hotels and on the restroom doors of filling stations. I didn’t like the signs. I felt as if I were in a foreign land.
Finally, we reached the Mississippi state line and soon after we heard a police siren. A police car came up behind us. My father slowed the Cadillac, then stopped. Two white policemen got out of the car. They eyeballed the Cadillac and told my father to get out.
“Whose car is this, boy?” they asked.
I saw anger in my father’s eyes. “It’s mine,” he said.
“You’re a liar,” said one of the policemen. “You stole this car.”
BOOKS BY MILDRED D. TAYLOR
The Friendship
The Gold Cadillac
Let the Circle Be Unbroken
Mississippi Bridge
The Road to Memphis
Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry
Song of the Trees
The Well
The Gold Cadillac
MILDRED · D · TAYLOR
PICTURES BY
MICHAEL HAYS
PUFFIN BOOKS
PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane, London W8 5TZ, England
Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood, Victoria, Australia
Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcom Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2
Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England
First published in the United States of America by Dial Books for Young Readers, 1987
Published in Puffin Books, 1998
Text copyright © Mildred D. Taylor, 1987
Illustrations copyright © Michael Hays, 1987
All rights reserved
THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE DIAL EDITION AS FOLLOWS:
Taylor, Mildred D. The gold Cadillac.
Summary: Two Black girls living in the North are proud of their family’s
beautiful new Cadillac until they take it on a visit to the South and
encounter racial prejudice for the first time.
[1. Afro-Americans—Fiction. 2. Prejudices—Fiction. 3. Southern States—Race
relations—Fiction. 4. Race relations—Fiction.] I. Hays, Michael, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.T21723Go 1987 [Fic] 86-11526
Puffin Books ISBN: 978-1-101-65797-3
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that
it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise
circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover
other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition
including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
To Mother-Dear,
who has always been there for all of us
with her love and strength and understanding
Table of Contents
M
y sister and I were playing out on the front lawn when the gold Cadillac rolled up and my father stepped from behind the wheel. We ran to him, our eyes filled with wonder. “Daddy, whose Cadillac?” I asked.
And Wilma demanded, “Where’s our Mercury?”
My father grinned. “Go get your mother and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Is it ours?” I cried. “Daddy, is it ours?”
“Get your mother!” he laughed. “And tell her to hurry!” Wilma and I ran off to obey as Mr. Pondexter next door came from his house to see what this new Cadillac was all about. We threw open the front door, ran through the downstairs front parlor and straight through the house to the kitchen where my mother was cooking and one of my aunts was helping her. “Come on, Mother-Dear!” we cried together. “Daddy say come on out and see this new car!”
“What?” said my mother, her face showing her surprise. “What’re you talking about?”
“A Cadillac!” I cried.
“He said hurry up!” relayed Wilma.
And then we took off again, up the back stairs to the second floor of the duplex. Running down the hall, we banged on all the apartment doors. My uncles and their wives stepped to the doors. It was good it was a Saturday morning. Everybody was home.
“We got us a Cadillac! We got us a Cadillac!” Wilma and I proclaimed in unison. We had decided that the Cadillac had to be ours if our father was driving it and holding on to the keys. “Come on see!” Then we raced on, through the upstairs sunroom, down the front steps, through the
downstairs sunroom, and out to the Cadillac. Mr. Pondexter was still there. Mr. LeRoy and Mr. Courtland from down the street were there too and all were admiring the Cadillac as my father stood proudly by, pointing out the various features.
“Brand-new 1950 Coupe deVille!” I heard one of the men saying.
“Just off the showroom floor!” my father said. “I just couldn’t resist it.”
My sister and I eased up to the car and peeked in. It was all gold inside. Gold leather seats. Gold carpeting. Gold dashboard. It was like no car we had owned before. It looked like a car for rich folks.
“Daddy, are we rich?” I asked. My father laughed.
“Daddy, it’s ours, isn’t it?” asked Wilma, who was older and more practical than I. She didn’t intend to give her heart too quickly to something that wasn’t hers.
“You like it?”
“Oh, Daddy, yes!”
He looked at me. “What ’bout you, ’lois?”
“Yes, sir!”
My father laughed again. “Then I expect I can’t much disappoint my girls, can I? It’s ours all right!”
Wilma and I hugged our father with our joy. My uncles came from the house and my aunts, carrying their babies, came out too. Everybody surrounded the car and owwed and ahhed. Nobody could believe it.
Then my mother came out.
Everybody stood back grinning as she approached the car. There was no smile on her face. We all waited for her to speak. She stared at the car, then looked at my father, standing there as proud as he could be. Finally she said, “You didn’t buy this car, did you, Wilbert?”
“Gotta admit I did. Couldn’t resist it.”
“But…but what about our Mercury? It was perfectly good!”
“Don’t you like the Cadillac, Dee?”
“That Mercury wasn’t even a year old!”
My father nodded. “And I’m sure whoever buys it is going to get themselves a good car. But we’ve got ourselves a better one. Now stop frowning, honey, and let’s take ourselves a ride in our brand-new Cadillac!”
My mother shook her head. “I’ve got food on the stove,” she said and turning away walked back to the house.
There was an awkward silence and then my father said, “You know Dee never did much like surprises. Guess this here Cadillac was a bit too much for her. I best go smooth things out with her.”
Everybody watched as he went after my mother. But when he came back, he was alone.
“Well, what she say?” asked one of my uncles.
My father shrugged and smiled. “Told me I bought this Cadillac alone, I could just ride in it alone.”
Another uncle laughed. “Uh-oh! Guess she told you!”
“Oh, she’ll come around,” said one of my aunts. “Any woman would be proud to ride in this car.”
“That’s what I’m banking on,” said my father as he went around to the street side of the car and opened the door. “All right! Who’s for a ride?”
“We are!” Wilma and I cried.
All three of my uncles and one of my aunts, still holding her baby, and Mr. Pondexter climbed in with us and we took off for the first ride in the gold Cadillac. It was a
glorious ride and we drove all through the city of Toledo. We rode past the church and past the school. We rode through Ottawa Hills where the rich folks lived and on into Walbridge Park and past the zoo, then along the Maumee River. But none of us had had enough of the car so my father put the car on the road and we drove all the way to Detroit. We had plenty of family there and everybody was just as pleased as could be about the Cadillac. My father told our Detroit relatives that he was in the doghouse with my mother about buying the Cadillac. My uncles told them she wouldn’t ride in the car. All the Detroit family thought that was funny and everybody, including my father, laughed about it and said my mother would come around.
It was early evening by the time we got back home, and I could see from my mother’s face she had not come around. She was angry now not only about the car, but that we had been gone so long. I didn’t understand that, since my father had called her as soon as we reached Detroit to let her know where we were. I had heard him myself. I didn’t understand either why she did not like that fine Cadillac and
thought she was being terribly disagreeable with my father. That night as she tucked Wilma and me in bed I told her that too.