Chamblee54

In the time between 1980 and 1994, if you lived in Atlanta you heard about Lewis Grizzard. Some people loved him. Some did not. He told good old boy stories about growing up in rural Georgia. Many of them were enjoyable. Lewis also made social and political commentaries, which upset a few people. This is a saturday morning repost, with historic pictures from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.
PG had mixed feelings about Lewis. The stories about Kathy Sue Loudermilk, and Catfish, could make your day. His opinions about gays, feminists, and anything non redneck, could get on your nerves. His column for the fishwrapper upset PG at least twice a week.
In 1982, Lewis (he reached the level of celebrity where he was known by his first name only) wrote a column about John Lennon. Lewis did not understand why Mr. Ono was such a big deal. PG cut the column out of the fishwrapper, and put it in a box. Every few years, PG would be looking for something, find that column, and get mad all over again.
The New Georgia Encyclopedia has a page about Lewis, which expresses some of these contradictions. “If Grizzard’s humor revealed the ambivalence amid affluence of the Sunbelt South, it reflected its conservative and increasingly angry politics as well. He was fond of reminding fault-finding Yankee immigrants that “Delta is ready when you are,” and, tired of assaults on the Confederate flag, he suggested sarcastically that white southerners should destroy every relic and reminder of the Civil War (1861-65), swear off molasses and grits, drop all references to the South, and begin instead to refer to their region as the “Lower East.” Grizzard also wore his homophobia and hatred for feminists on his sleeve, and one of the last of his books summed up his reaction to contemporary trends in its title, Haven’t Understood Anything since 1962 and Other Nekkid Truths.
In the end, which came in 1994, when he was only forty-seven, the lonely, insecure, oft-divorced, hard-drinking Grizzard proved to be the archetypal comic who could make everyone laugh but himself. He chronicled this decline and his various heart surgeries in I Took a Lickin’ and Kept on Tickin’, and Now I Believe in Miracles, published just before his final, fatal heart failure.”
As you may have discerned, Lewis McDonald Grizzard Jr. met his maker on March 20, 1994. He was 47. There was a valve in his heart that wasn’t right. The good news is that he stayed out of the army. At the time, Vietnam was the destination for most enlistees. The bad news is that his heart problems got worse and worse, until it finally killed him.
Sixteen years later, PG found a website, Wired For Books. It is a collection of author interviews by Don Swaim, who ran many of them on a CBS radio show called Book Beat. There are two interviews with Lewis Grizzard. One was done to promote My Daddy Was a Pistol and I’m a Son of A Gun. This was the story of Lewis Grizzard Senior, who was another mixed bag.
PG found himself listening to this chat, and wondered what he had been missing. The stories, and one liners, came flowing out, like the Chattahoochee going under I 285. Daddy Grizzard was a soldier, who went to war in Europe and Korea. The second one did something to his mind, and he took to drinking. He was never quite right the rest of his life. His son adored him anyway. When you put yourself in those loafers for a while, you began to taste the ingredients, in that stew we called Lewis Grizzard.
PG still remembers the anger that those columns caused … PG has his own story, and knows when his toes are stepped on. The thing is, after listening to this show, PG has an idea of why Lewis Grizzard wrote the things that he did. Maybe PG and Lewis aren’t all that different after all.

With one day before it was due, PG finished reading Flannery: A Life of Flannery O’Connor, by Brad Gooch. The author is a professor of English at William Patterson University in New Jersey. He spares no citations. You can see where he gets his information. This is a repost.
Chamblee54 has written before about Miss O’Connor. There is a radio broadcast of a Flannery O’Connor lecture. (The Georgia accent of Miss O’Connor is much commented on in the book. To PG, it is just another lady speaking.)
Mary Flannery O’Connor was born March 25, 1925 in Savannah GA. The local legend is that she was conceived in the shadow of St. John the Baptist Cathedral, a massive facility on Lafayette Square. Her family did leave nearby, and her first school was just a few steps away. This is also a metaphor for the role of the Catholic Church in her life. Mary Flannery was intensely Catholic, and immersed in the scholarship of the church. This learning was a large part of her life. How she got from daily mass, to writing stories about Southern Grotesque, is one mystery at the heart of Flannery O’Connor.
Ed O’Connor doted on his daughter, but had to take a job in Atlanta to earn a living. His wife Regina and daughter Mary Flannery moved with him, to a house behind Christ The King Cathedral. Mr. O’Connor’s health was already fading, and Mother and Daughter moved in with family in Milledgeville. Ed O’Connor died, of Lupus Erythematosus, on February 1, 1941.
Mary Flannery went to college in Milledgeville, and on to the Iowa Writer’s Workshop. She dealt with cold weather, went to Mass every day, and wrote. She was invited to live at an artists colony called Yaddo, in upstate New York. She lived for a while with Robert and Sally Fitzgerald in Connecticut, all while working on her first novel, “Wise Blood”. In 1950, she was going home to Milledgeville for Christmas, and had been feeling poorly. She went to the hometown doctor, who thought at first that the problem was rheumatoid arthritis. The illness of Flannery O’Connor was Lupus Erythematosus.
Miss O’Connor spent much of that winter in hospitals, until drugs were found that could help. She moved, with her mother, to a family farm outside Milledgeville, which she renamed Andalusia. She entered a phase of her life, with the Lupus in relative remission, and the drugs firing her creative fires, where she wrote the short stories that made her famous.
Another thing happened when she was recuperating. Flannery was reading the Florida “Market Bulletin”, and saw an ad for “peafowl”, at sixty five dollars a pair. She ordered a pair, and they soon arrived via Railway Express. This was the start of the peacocks at Andalusia, a part of the legend.
During this period of farm life and writing, Flannery had several friends and correspondents. There was the “Bible Salesmen”, Erik Langkjaer, who was probably the closest thing Flannery had to a boyfriend. Another was Betty Hester, who exchanged hundreds of letters with Miss O’Connor. This took place under the stern eye of Regina O’Connor, the no nonsense mother-caregiver of Flannery. (Mr. Gooch says that Betty Hester committed suicide in 1998. That would be consistent with PG stumbling onto an estate sale of Miss Hester in that time frame.)
The book of short stories came out, and Flannery O’Connor became famous. She was also dependent on crutches, and living with a stern mother. There were lectures out of town, and a few diverse personalities who became her friends. She went to Mass every day, and collected books by Catholic scholars. Flannery was excited by the changes in the church started by Pope John XXIII, and in some ways could be considered a liberal. (She supported Civil Rights, in severe contrast to her mother.)
In 1958, Flannery O’Connor went to Europe, including a trip to the Springs at Lourdes. Her cousin Katie Semmes (the daughter of Captain John Flannery, CSA) pushed Flannery hard to go to the springs, to see if it would help the Lupus. Flannery was reluctant…” I am one of those people who could die for his religion sooner than take a bath for it“. When the day for the visit came, Flannery took a token dip in the waters. Her condition did improve, briefly. (It is worth speculating here about the nature of Flannery’s belief, which was apparently more intellectual than emotional. Could it be that, if she was more persuaded by the mystical, emotional side of the church, and taken the healing waters more seriously, that she might have been cured?)
At some point in this story, her second novel came out, and the illness blossomed. Much of 1964 was spent in hospitals, and she got worse and worse. On August 3, 1964, Mary Flannery O’Connor died.

PG remembers the first time the name Flannery O’Connor sank in. He was visiting some friends, in a little house across from the federal prison.
Rick(?) was the buddy of a character known as Harry Bowers. PG was never sure what Harry’s real name was. One night, Rick was talking about Southern Gothic writers, and he said that Flannery O’Connor was just plain weird. ”Who else would have a bible salesman show up at a farm, take the girl up into a hayloft, unscrew her wooden leg and leave her there? Weird.”
Flannery O’Connor was recently the subject of a biography written by Brad Gooch. The book is getting a bit of publicity. Apparently, the Milledgeville resident was a piece of work.
PG read some reviews of this biography, and found a collection of short stories at the library. The book included “Good Country People”, the tale about the bible salesman. Apparently, this story was inspired by a real life incident. (Miss O’Connor had lupus the last fifteen years of her life. She used crutches.) And yes, it is weird. Not like hollywood , but in the way of rural Georgia.
Some of the reviews try to deal with her attitudes about Black people. On a certain level, she is a racist. She uses the n word freely, and her black characters are not inspiring people. The thing is, the white characters are hardly any better, and in some cases much worse. In one story, “Everything That Rises Must Converge,” a black lady is the hero.
The stories are well crafted, with vivid descriptions of people and places. The reader floats along with the flow of the story, until he realizes that Grandma has made a mistake on a road trip. The house she got her son to look for is in Tennessee, not Georgia. She makes him drive the family car into a ditch. Some drifting killers come by. Grandma asks one if he prays, while his partner is shooting her grandchildren. Weird.
In another story, a drifter happens upon a pair of women in the country. The daughter is thirty years old, is deaf, and has never spoken a word. The drifter teaches her to say bird and sugarpie. The mother gives him fifteen dollars for a honeymoon, if he will marry her. He takes the fifteen dollars and leaves her asleep in a roadside diner.
There was a yard sale one Saturday afternoon. It was in a house off Lavista Road, between Briarcliff and Cheshire Bridge. The house had apparently not been painted in the last forty years. Thousands and thousands of paperback books were on the shelves. The lady taking the money said that the lady who lived there was the friend, and correspondent of, the “Milledgeville writer” Flannery O’Connor. This is apparently Betty Hester, who is mentioned in many of the biography reviews.
PG told the estate sale lady that she should be careful how she said that. There used to be a large mental hospital in Milledgeville, and the name is synonymous in Georgia with mental illness. The estate sale lady had never heard that.
UPDATE: PG sometimes reads poems at an open mic event. His stage name is Manly Pointer. This is the bible salesman in “Good Country People.” This is a repost. Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library.” It was written like James Joyce. An earlier edition of this post had comments.
Fr. J. December 10, 2009 at 3:00 pm I am glad you take an interest in Flannery, but to say baldly that she is a racist is to very much misunderstand her. For another view on Flannery and race, you might want to read her short story, “Everything that Rises Must Converge.”
chamblee54 December 10, 2009 at 3:17 pm “On a certain level, she is a racist.” That is not the same as “baldly” labeling her a racist. (And I have a full head of hair, thank you). As a native Georgian, I am aware of the many layers of nuance in race relations. I feel that the paragraph on race in the above feature is accurate.

The tour began at the Commerce Club, It is a glorified parking deck, with a dining club on the top two floors. It was started as a place that would allow Jews. In the early sixties, the Commerce Club was the site of a secret meeting between Atlanta City officials, and Civil Rights demonstrators. Since it was mostly parking, the activists drove in and parked unannounced.
In 1992, PG saw Dan Quayle arrive to give a speech at the Commerce Club. A couple of hours later, PG was crossing Walton Street, when the Vice President’s limousine drove by. PG waved at the vehicle, only using one finger.
The next stop was the Fulton National Bank building. It was the first high rise built after the depression. For many years it was red brick, until some idiot had the idea of painting it beige. Across the street is 2 Peachtree. At 41 stories, it was the tallest building in town for a while. Some say it was the ugliest building downtown, although that is tough to quantify. An 8 story brick building in front was retrofitted with black panels, so that it would look like its tall neighbor. These panels are falling off, and may eventually be taken down.
Woodruff Park is across Five Points from 2 Peachtree. The legendary head of Coca Cola, Robert Woodruff, bought several blocks of aging buildings, and tore them down to create the park. Some say he wanted the open space in front of the Trust Company building, so it could face Peachtree. The Trust Company was Coca Cola’s bank. For years, the formula for Coca Cola was held in their vault.
In one legend, Governor Gene Talmadge went into the Trust Company lobby. This would be in the old building on Pryor Street. (Now Park Place) The Governor had enjoyed a happy lunch, and was being held up by two of his aides. Soon, Governor Talmadge felt the need to use the restroom, which he did in the corner of the lobby.
Gracing the North end of Woodruff Park, at 100 Peachtree, is the Equitable Building. It, and the adjacent Georgia Pacific building, were designed by Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill, or SOM. No, that is not short for SOM-bitch. These two buildings were more modern, and are sometimes called glass boxes. At least the GP building has some variation in the back.
Georgia Pacific was built on the site of the Loews Grand Theater. Across the street was a giant Coca Cola sign. GP did not think that sign fit in with their new building. Coca Cola was tired of making repairs to the sign, and was happy for an excuse to take it down.
Behind GP, on John Wesley Dobbs (formerly Houston Street, pronounced HOUSE ton) was the Belle Isle Garage. This was the original Merchandise Mart. At some point, the present Merchandise Mart was built on Peachtree. The people going to shows needed a place to stay, and John Portman started building hotels.
A few spots north, past the site of the Paramount Theater, is 191 Peachtree. John Portman had wanted to build there for years, but was never able to pull it off. Finally, the property was taken over by someone else, the S&W cafeteria was torn down, and Philip Johnson and John Burgee designed the high rise that sits there now.
PG asked if that building was still mostly unoccupied. The guide said that you read the AJC too much. After King & Spalding moved out, the building began a comeback, and is mostly occupied today. The parking garage, with faux columns outside, is a favorite.
Across the street, on the site of the Henry Grady Hotel and Roxy Theater, is the Peachtree Plaza hotel. There is a duplicate of this building in Detroit, that is 4 feet higher, but that doesn’t stop people from calling the Atlanta version the world’s tallest hotel. A few spaces north on Peachtree are the original Peachtree Center buildings.
One of the PC buildings is different from the rest. Mr. Portman was not able to buy the land for one building, but merely lease it. The lenders wanted to be able to tear the building down easily if land lease problems developed. This building has a steel frame, and is bolted together.
Another one of these buildings was all electric. This was a sixties concept, that is not much seen today. Across the street, a major tenant was the Atlanta Gas Light Company. An all electric building would not do. Natural Gas heating was installed. This building is not on the grid, but has a generator in the basement that supplies their electricity.
The tour ends with three hotels in a row. The Regency Hyatt House was revolutionary. It was the first modern hotel with a large atrium. Mr. Portman had lunch with Conrad Hilton, and described his plan. Mr. Hilton said it would not work. The management contract for the new hotel went to the Hyatt company, which was then little known outside California. The Regency has been renovated in the last few years, and does not have much of its old character.
A short walk over a sky bridge takes you to the Marriott Marquis. This is the Regency on steroids. The last time PG saw this building was during Dragon Con, when it was different. Across the street is the Hilton. It is another atrium building, with mini lobbies every few floors blocking the open space. The Hilton is built on the site of the Heart of Atlanta Motel, which is another story.
The last stop on the tour was One Peachtree Center. This was intended to be the crown jewel of John Portman’s empire, but it almost brought it down. An economic downturn hit during construction, and Mr. Portman’s lenders got nervous. John Portman went for being known as a baroque modernist, to just plain broke. He managed to survive.
Pictures today are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”. This is a repost. John Calvin Portman Jr. took the glass elevator to eternity on December 29, 2017.