A Southern Pilgrimage

Barbara O'Neal: I met Lynne Bryant at the Pikes Peak Writers Conference last spring.  We sat in the lobby of the hotel in that state of informational overload one gets at a conference of any sort.  We started chatting, politely, about our work.  When she told me about her story, a white woman and a black woman in the modern South, I admit I bristled a bit.  I am one of the 6 people on the planet who did not love The Help, and for very personal reasons—I was married interracially for 20 years, and all my inlaws had “gone North” to St. Louis from Mississippi after WWII, and they were “the help.” In the book, I did not see the women I adored, my lady-like, minor royalty mother-in-law (who was one of my favorite humans on all the earth for every minute I was allowed to know her) and all of her (equally dignified and honorable and well-tended sisters) in it.  I did not see the good black men I loved in it.  It was Stockett’s tale and she’s allowed to tell it her way, but it was a long way from the one I knew.

       I told Lynne pretty much that very thing.  She defended her work in a soft-spoken and intelligent way; said her book was about women, trying to heal.  Her honorable earnest responses prompted me to ask her if she’d send me the book when it was going out for quotes.  (I don’t know why she didn’t just smack me for my arrogance, but luckily she didn’t.)

         She sent me the book.  I read it.  I loved it. It’s the sometimes prickly story of women in the old South and the new, and the delicate dance between them.  It’s a good story, and I hope lots of readers pick it up, so I invited her here today. 

 

I am visiting my home state of Mississippi this week for a Catfish Alley book tour and it is Pilgrimage season! For those who are unfamiliar with the Southern pilgrimage, it’s a tour of antebellum homes—or homes built before the Civil War. This year marks the 71^st anniversary of the Pilgrimage tour in my hometown of Columbus.

It is quite the Southern experience to attend a pilgrimage tour. One is escorted through the stately homes and gardens by soft-voiced Southern female docents of all ages dressed in hoopskirts, and warbling on in exaggerated diphthongs about the Rococo furniture and the interesting, sometimes mythical, details about such things as jib windows that doubled as doors to keep the tax man at bay since houses were taxed on the number of doors the house had, or how the great columns of the house are now home to millions of honeybees, forming their sweet combs in the center of the tall white cylinders.

Rachel explains the honeybees in the columns at Waverly

Some of the homes have been in the same families for generations, some proclaim to be haunted with Southern children or tragically bereft Southern women flitting about at night and moaning, lending a decidedly Gothic spin to the whole affair.

 

A young docent poses with her great-grandmother 

My sister and I joined the tourists yesterday on a gorgeous balmy spring day to visit two of the former cotton plantation homes out in the countryside several miles outside of the city of Columbus. The first home, Waverly, built in 1852, and known for its fabulous self-supporting curved staircase, was in its heyday a complete self-sustaining community, which most plantations were, complete with gardens, orchards, a brick kiln, cotton gin, ice house, and swimming pool.

Waverly, built in 1852

Waverly was abandoned after the last member of the family died around 1913, and was rescued in the 1960s by the Snow family. The home boasts an unusual architecture with a four story octagonal cupola that rises from the center and has windows all the way around that can be opened to provide flow of air throughout the house, meaning that air conditioning is not required in the summer—quite a feat in the sweltering one hundred degree, one hundred percent humidity Mississippi summer. As the saying goes: “It’s hot as hell, but it’s great for the cotton.”

The Waverly Cupola and Staircase

The second home we toured is called Bryn Bella. In its day, Bryn Bella was a 5,500 acre cotton plantation that was home to 400 people, most of whom were slaves.

Bryn Bella, built in 1848

 

 

The docents held court in each room, explaining what was known of the history of the home and property and the current owners’ choice in furnishings—beautiful period antiques, since the house was mostly empty when they bought it five years ago. The voices of the women who managed the plantation home during the Civil War were echoed in the stories: “Hide the silver in the swamp!” the neighbor lady was heard to cry from her balcony to her slaves. “Sherman is coming!” According to the ancient gentleman who regaled us with stories in the parlor of Bryn Bella, the home barely escaped being burned because one of Nathan Bedford Forrest’s captains met Sherman’s forces outside of Westpoint—a nearby city—and “whipped them.”

Docent holding court at Bryn Bella

Being a part of this type of event in my hometown as often as I can renews my Southern soul and reminds me why I write. Being in the South is a sensual feast. From the humid wisteria-scented air, to the deeply satisfying flavor of salty bacon, freshly cut from a side of bacon hanging in the smokehouse out back behind the “big house.” From the feast of color, both inside the house and out, the soft Southern voices soothing my ears with their familiar tones, to the visual reminders of a life that was dependent on the back-breaking work of an entire race of people subjugated into slavery to sustain a system that could only be successful with their efforts, but from which they received no reward. The South is fraught with contrasts; the kind of extremes that nurture the heart of a writer the same way the black dirt of the Mississippi prairie nurtured the endless fields of ripening cotton all those years ago when these homes were the central dwelling place for the masters and mistresses of the plantation.

Me on the porch at Bryn Bella

 

About Lynne: I was born and raised in rural Mississippi, where my maternal grandparents farmed cotton and my mother is one of their fifteen children. I grew up during the era of the Civil Rights Movement and came of age during the volatile integration of Mississippi’s schools. I attended nursing school at Mississippi University for Women, and then went on to complete both a masters in nursing from Ole Miss and a PhD in nursing from the University of Colorado. I now teach nursing full-time in Colorado, but the home of my heart will always be Mississippi.

I came to writing later in life, finally allowing myself to unleash a love of storytelling and a lifetime of struggling to understand the complex race relations in Mississippi. My stories tackle issues most Southerners can identify with, and, like me, have struggled to understand. My debut novel, Catfish Alley, will be released by NAL/Penguin in spring 2011. Contemporary stories defined by the context of Southern history continue to intrigue me as I work on my second novel. Writing is my way to wrestle with what I can’t explain and I am compelled to do that through the voices and stories of the American South.

 

For more on my Southern sense of place, please visit me at www.lynne-bryant.com.

Comments

[Josh]

I realize that it is your "heritage," being from there, and all, but I find any nostalgia about the pre-Civil War days by white people in the South to be as offensive as if the Germans proudly had tours of their concentration camps, wearing full SS garb. You didn't state one of the long-standing "benefits" of being a slave: you had the right (duty?) to be raped at any time by your master or anyone he permitted, and your offspring could be sold off at any time without your consent. Picture those nice, sweet women in those nice dresses being held down and raped, and then try to go on the tours again.

[Reine]

Dear Josh, is there nothing to appreciate about the South of those days, then? The North was not free of slavery and degradation, yet many people find reenactments of those days interesting and informative. The beauty of the Public Garden in Boston is seen differently when one learns that the heads of Native Americans were cut off and displayed on poles there http://footnotessincethewilderness.wordpress.com/2010/07/27/heads-on-poles-in-boston-common/ yet the trees and flowers are still beautiful. Children play there. Lovers hold hands. And many go to the place where the Tree of Liberty once stood to admire the revolutionaries. http://footnotessincethewilderness.wordpress.com/2010/07/27/heads-on-poles-in-boston-common/ That Thomas Ditson was tarred and feathered there, in clear view of the place where indigenous people had been beheaded and their heads displayed, where brutal racism and slavery were institutionalized, and where peaceful Quakers and people found guilty of witchcraft were hung... http://www.bcheights.com/2.6178/boston-s-haunted-1.915034 ...well people still celebrate the history of the area and admire certain qualities of the times.

[Ramona]

Josh, have you ever been on a plantation tour? Worked in a southern museum? Lived in the South? If you had, you might know that the South's history may be complicated and ugly as you point out, but that doesn't nullify the beauty of an historic home or the significance of its role in a particular town and cities. On tours, you'll hear docents talk about how many slaves built the homes, worked the fields, and so on. Does it get glossed over? Of course. It may make those buildings less beautiful in some people's eyes, but would you have them destroyed instead? Left to ruin? There are some (not many) slave cabins and sharecropper cottages in the South for touring, too. I daresay if you look at railroad tracks, tunnels, bridges, etc., etc., and buildings/creations all over this country, you're looking at the work of disadvantaged, poor and often abused workers. Not nearly on the same level as being owned by another human being--I get that. You think we (meaning white Southerners) don't get that?

My family had a small sugar cane farm in south Louisiana. They owned slaves. Am I proud of that? No. Am I supposed to think about a slave woman being raped every time I look at stalks of sugar cane growing in the fields? Sorry. My residual guilt as a white Southern exists, but I'm more concerned about what I do, today, in my life.

[Ramona]

Lynne, I apologize for the rant above.

I have relatives in Natchez who plan their spring around the Pilgrimage the same way my cousins in Louisiana plan the Mardi Gras season. Last fall, I went to Shadows on the Teche, the plantation home in New Iberia, Louisiana, smack in the middle of the land of Evangeline. A few months before, vandals had attacked the home, toppling over statues in the garden, pulling out light fixtures and destroying railings around the home. According to the docent, it wasn't a social message or the work of protesters but, rather, the work of a couple of bored local teenagers.

I look forward to reading your book. Oh, and I see you are an Ole Miss grad. I'm from LSU. Geaux Tigers! ;-)

[Nancy Martin]

Lynne, are all southerners storytellers? I look forward to reading your book. Thank you for being our guest.

I have to venture a guess that if honeybees are in those columns, there are termites, too. There may not be much to tour soon.

[Lynne]

In answer to your question, Nancy, yes, many Southerners I know are storytellers! It must be something about the pace of life, or, as I said in my post, the contrasts one is surrounded with. I read somewhere the other day that the simple process of asking for directions in the South becomes a storytelling experience!

I encourage the kind of dialogue that my musing about antebellum homes creates. This kind of response is one of the reasons I write. Josh’s comments, as well as the others, do not fall on deaf ears. The contrasts that surround me when I am in Mississippi spark all kinds of emotions within me: anger, outrage, sadness, a deep abiding love for my family and my roots, and there’s also laughter, joy, fascination… It’s all there—just like our history—and, believe me, I wrestle with it… a lot.

[Harley]

I feel like such a complete Yankee. Except for a week spent in Alabama and a summer in Kentucky, I've only visited the south on book tours, or for conventions, or airport layovers. But every time I go, I'm struck by the different quality of the air, and something that, to me, is as exotic and intriguing as being in a foreign country.

Thank you for this tour. I'm adding it to my list of things to do before I die.

Also, I love the thought-provoking nature of the comments today. Ah, the skeletons in our collective closets . . .

[Nancy Pickard]

I, too, appreciate the comments today--Josh's and Reine's and Ramona's and all of them. We have smart, sensitive people here, and they say what they think and feel, and we are all richer for it, I think.

Nice to meet you, Lynne. Good for you for taking on the deepest divisions head-on.

[Alan P.]

I love the houses. Josh, as long as we as Americans acknowledge the evils in our past and not gloss over it, I can enjoy the beauty of the plantations.

Notice that Mercedes Benz seems very proud of their 100 year heritage but skips twenty years in the middle there. When I see their ads, I just remember that they owe Molly's cousin for work (slave labor) in 1943 and 44.

Josh, there is an African American living is a slave built mansion on the east coast today. Slave owners lived their for the first quarter of the buildings history. Slaves tended its fields, kept its lawns, cooked the food and washed the occupants clothes. Times change.

The Executive Mansion
Near Alexandria, Virginia

[Alan P.]

TypePad ate the link http://whtehouse.gov

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Hide the silver in the swamp! So much in that phrase..

And yes, history is history. My husband spend four years as a civil rights attorney in Mississippi in the 60's. In--Belzoni? (The heart of the delta?) And Jackson. And Shaw. We went back, in the 90's to revisit...and it was revealing and fascinating and memorable.

Lynne, welcome!

[Nancy Pickard]

Hank, I didn't know that about Jonathon. I have deep respect for his courage in doing that.

[Nancy Martin]

Lynne, you're a gracious southern lady. Thank you!

As for Jonathan---he's also a cutie.

[Nancy Pickard]

Brave, smart, funny cuties are the best.

[Karen in Ohio]

The only antebellum mansions/plantations I've toured are in and around Charleston, SC. Even though the docents and the literature don't make much mention of the slaves, I could feel them there, all around me, supporting and propping up the lifestyle of the owners, caring for their children, and providing their sustenance, both via the crops they grew and the food they cooked for the white residents.

It's an inescapable fact, and while I don't have any Southern roots, I do have a big chunk of German heritage, and recognize that some may have a problem with that aspect of my history. I had nothing to do with Hitler, nor with his destruction, so I personally don't have any guilt about that, any more than a modern Southerner should feel guilty over a family history of slave-owning.

Reine brings up a good point about the Native Americans, as well. I do have a bit of American Indian blood, but I don't hold it against the European side of my heritage that indigenous Americans were slaughtered. We do better when we know better, and hopefully we do know better now.

Lynne, thank you for joining us; I'll look for Catfish Alley! And Barbara, I hope you'll mine your personal history for that story; you could do it justice, I think.

[Laura (in PA)]

The mansions are beautiful, and part of history, both good and bad. There are many things that are beautiful that were made possible by corruption, deceit and downright vile behavior. As Reine pointed out, our whole country exists partly as a result of mistreatment of Native Americans. While we can deplore and regret the behavior during the slavery era, and be outraged that mores of that time considered the behavior to be acceptable (and, it should be noted, it was not considered acceptable by everyone), I don't think we should turn our backs on every piece of history having to do with that time, if only to remind us of what people went through among all the beauty.

My family lived in Charlottesville for a few years when I was a kid, and we visited Monticello several times. It's gorgeous, and extremely interesting when you see Jefferson's inventions and such in person. He also designed other buildings in Charlottesville, including several at the University of Virginia. Another example of a very flawed (and slave-owning), but brilliant individual, who did much for our country, created beauty with his architecture, and also did some vile things.

Thanks, Lynne, for joining us here, and being willing to talk about the difficult stuff. That picture of the cupola and staircase is breathtaking, and the art involved in creating those beautiful homes just boggles my mind. Your book sounds fascinating - I'll check it out. And Barbara, I agree with Karen - I'd love to hear your perspective in a story someday.

[Pam aka SisterZip]

Karen, I know what you mean. My father's family settled in the St. Charles MO area in the 1840s. They left for whatever reason and had nothing to do with the atrocities of the 1930s & 40s. But just mention Germany or your German heritage, the horrifying images can't be stopped.

But as I tried to teach my daughters, everyone is more than the sum of their "parts". We all have horrible things in our ancestors' past, but that isn't what we are.

Welcome, Lynne. And I will look for Catfish Alley!

[Maryann Mercer]

As a child of German and Scot immigrants, but married to a child of the South-a descendent of the Lees and the Carrolls, I embrace history with a passion. The war that intrigues me the most? The War Between the States. The difference in the North and the South at that time still exists in a fashion today, nowhere more importantly than in the customs and tradtions. These differences are part of the fabric of this country. When my daughter lived in New Orleans, I fell in love with "the kindness of strangers"..."good morning" on the street from passers-by, and the willingness to help. Like any other city, New Orleans has people not so courteous, but I found the neighborhoods far more sociable and connected than the one I live in up here in Illinois.
We learn from history, or at least I hope we do.As Karen said, we do better when we know better.
That said, thanks Lynne for the wonderful post. Plantation tours in Louisiana (my favorite is Laura)are fascinating journeys to the past. I'll be on the lookout for Catfish Alley and look forward to reading and recommending it.

[marie]

Whenever a person views a painting, hears a piece of music or reads a stirring account of literature he or she has brought something of themselves to the experience.
A transformation takes place enabled by what is absorbed and that exhilaration of discovery is ever etched in their being.
Exposure to all that is there to touch, see or hear is a gift for which we can be grateful and drink into our psyche.
Thanks, Lynne for being here today.

[Diana in STL]

Welcome Lynne, I'll be watching for Catfish Alley. I've toured plantation homes in LA,MS, & SC. I love to hear the stories and yes I know they don't dwell on the "slaves" but I certainly know it's a part of the history. Likewise when I visit my German cousin who was a boy during WWII I don't confront him about Hitler but I'm very much aware of what happened during that time.

Thanks for visiting today. I love being introduced to new authors (and authors new to me) via this blog. Best of luck with the novel. I'll watch for its publication.

[gaylin in vancouver]

Welcome Lynne.

My love of the south leans towards all things Disney . . . not so much with history.

Up here of the Pacific Rim we have lots of history as well, asian slaves built the railways and a good portion of Vancouver, BC and Seattle and all down the coast. Does it make Vancouver any less beautiful no, just more complicated that the postcards show.

[Josh]

Gaylin, my son and I watched Westworld this week--before our guest arrived. I think of that whenever I think of anything related to Disneyland or Walt Disney World.

And to answer your (rhetorical) question, yes, it does make Vancouver less beautiful. I won't be visiting this weekend, that's for sure.

[Becky Hutchison]

Welcome to TLC, Lynne.

I'm also a child of the South (TN) and love it's architecture and culture. But just because I have a great love of my background doesn't mean I condone slavery or bigoted behavior, and it doesn't take away my appreciation for the wonderful things all of our people produced. Landowners and businessmen throughout this country used slaves, indentured servants and/or low-paid immigrants to construct their buildings and farm their properties. In every state. In every portion of this country. But just because the culture at the time accepted the practice doesn't mean the results were shameful. In fact, I feel the resulting architecture and landscape are a testament to the skill and labor of those low or no-paid workers.

My educational background is in archeology and historic preservation planning, so I've studied the good and bad in the our country's development. It is true that the homes and plantations of important white, mostly slave- or indentured servant-owning men were the first properties to receive attention and money for preservation, but preservation is so much more than that now. The great majority of studies today focus on the real people who actually built and toiled on the properties we see today. Many historic sites, Williamsburg included, have programs where living history interpreters describe to visitors what it was like to be a slave or indentured servant during a certain time period. They don't glorify the conditions. They educate the public.

Even structures in the big, beautiful European cities were built by slaves and servants. Slavery was accepted in early Rome, London and other great cities. I feel we don't have to accept or like the culture that started many of our settlements, but we can appreciate the beauty, laws and more inclusive society that resulted from their efforts.

Josh, I honor and acknowledge your and everyone elses views today on the Old South, and thank you for bringing up the discussion.

Lynne, I look forward to reading CATFISH ALLEY and your future books. Thanks for posting today!

[Pam aka SisterZip]

Well, the White House in DC was built with slave labor. We won't be tearing it down anytime soon. It is good to know these things and acknowledge the bad with the good. Preserving these buildings helps to keep the bad in the forefront.

[Margaret Maron]

Sorry to be so late checking in, Lynn. Company all day. Being Southern is such a complicated issue. If any of my people owned slaves, I'm not aware of it. NC didn't have the huge plantations of the deeper south and the state was terribly divided about the war. Unfortunately, we were "The Vale of Humility between two mountains of arrogance," and when VA and SC seceded, the scales were tipped. We wound up losing more men than any other state, including some of my own ancestors, who were themselves direct descendants of soldiers who rebelled against the crown. Complicated. But I think the country will lose something when we're all homogenized out of existence.

[Lora in Florida]

Dear Lynne:

Welcome, and thank you for sharing your beautiful history and thoughts. And slave labor and prejudice needn't be limited to the Nazis and the South; my Great Aunt Hannah WASP to her Daughter of the Revolution heritage, when confronted with my Catholic husband, remarked at the wedding "At least he's not Irish. Those Hunkies (slovac/czeck Catholics) at least know how to do a day's work." Unfortunately it was just about everywhere, at some time in our history. There's not one of us that can claim a completely prejudice free background/heritage/ancestery

We just do the best we can to make sure things have changed.

[vibram five fingers]

My stories tackle issues most Southerners can identify with, and, like me, have struggled to understand.

[vibram five fingers]

It was Stockett’s tale and she’s allowed to tell it her way