い 0 は 0 の き 000 0 manufacturers, shipbuilders, chemical companies, and the like. Of all the areas of work and play to hold the attention of Southerners past and present, probably none could be thought Of as more representative or symbolic of the regional character than music. AS a bridge between the tradi- tional and the contemporary, between the hands, the heart, and the head, music spans the many avenues 0fSouthern feel- ing and expression. The vocal and instru- mental music of the South is a reglonal treasure combining many skills—story- telling, songwriting, instrument making, and performing. lt is creative art, it is work—and it is, quiteliterally, play. lt has been embedded in the soulofthe South for longer than anyone can remember, longer than thel ℃ has been a South, and it iS as diverse and as singular as the people themselves. ln lndian culttll ℃ s, music played an important ceremonial role. Then the field songs of the slaves gave rise to the first indigenous American art form: the blues. Gospel muSIC was born ⅲ South- ern churches. Folk, country, and blue- grass muSIC originated in the hills 0f Virginia and North Carolina, Kentucky 0 0 0 ) 0 0 ノ 0 C 》 0 0 and meat 仕 0n1 them all. Pets, particu- larly dogs and cats, have always been highly visible and important in South- ern households. As for wild animals, hunters and fishermen have pursued them avidly throughout the centuries of habitation in the region. Even now, it is not unheard 0f for a company in the South to give workers a day off on the first day of a hunting season. Some traditional occupations dO remain, Of course. Farming, for all itS tribulations ln recent times, is still a major industry in every Southern state, and the agricultural support enter- prises, including everything 斤 om seed companies tO farm implement distribu- tors, are also substantial. The hands are still important, tOO, in the arts and crafts, in furniture making, in the diver- sified fishing businesses, and in the heavy industries that have come intO the regl()n ln recent years—automotive 51

people—all required unremitting labor. For two and a half centuries, much Of it was slave labor, a fact that influenced the work habits of both black and white Southerners throughout that time and for well over a century after slavery was abolished. During and after slavery, though, people 0fb0th races were con- stantly up against a far more physically demanding labor requirement than they are today, and the sort of leisure time that most people now enjoy rou- tinely was unheard of then for all but a privileged w. And beyond the work, there was the weather: in some parts bitterly cold in winter, always a veritable furnace Of suf- focating heat and humidity in the dog days Of summer.. Southerners became acclimated tO the extremes, learned tO live with them and work in them, or they left, there being no other choice open tO them. Sometimes puzzled out- siders have watched Southerners at work—deliberate, methodical, unhurried—and incorrectly concluded that they were lazy and unproductive; on the contrary, the experience Of gen- erations has taught them the most sensi- ble and efficient way to perform hard work in hOt weather.. Living SO close tO the very heartbeat of nature, feeling its breath upon the skin, inhaling its earthy perfumes, hear- ing its myriad cries and whispers, South- erners earlier times learned above all tO respect the natural order, even when they could neither predict it nor com- prehend it. The pathfinders and those who followed them came to understand the wisdom Of Obse ハ ring the n100n , the tides, the currents, the rainfall, and the S1gns Of seasonal evolution. Directly or indirectly, almost all of them worked somewhere in the fOOd chain. NOW, removed though they are from such close association with the life Of the land, most native Southerners neverthe- less have an appreciation for it, and it keeps many 0f them attached, however tenuously, tO traditional feelings about work and leisure. Animals are another reminder Of the mystical call of nature. Some of the farm livestock, the beasts of burden— mules, horses, and oxen—once were SO essential as tO be considered part Of the work force. The rest contributed in varl- ous ways—eggs 仕 om the chickens, milk and cheese and butter 仕 0n1 the cows, wool from the sheep, lard fi 、 om the hogs, This page: れ S 〃屮Ⅷ , Opposite page: S カ 00 なか〃 / 代な 襯襯 , S 力の加〃わⅢ g , 襯ん C 矼 0 〃 . 50

The People tured the people in clear-cut terms Of white and black. lndeed, Ang10-Saxons and Afi 、 o-Americans dO comprise the tWO largest segments Of the population, as they always have, but there are other nationalities and ethnic 部、 oups whose presence has been clearly visible and whose influence is still lt. The imprint ofthe Spanish in Florida and the French in Louisiana is primary and indelible. The German heritage ⅲ North Carolina and Kentucky has been substantial, too, and the same can be said ofthe ltalians and Greeks in several ofthe Southern states. East Europeans have been less numerous, but they still have made Who are the Southerners? RomantlC novels and m()VleS and television have projected a long line 0f stereotyped images in answer tO the question. Out Of the antebellum era came goateed plantation colonels, fluttering ladies in crinolines, and happy slaves sing- ing in the cotton fields. ln modern times, a different but no less banal and artificial cast ofcharacters has been featured: dim- witted hillbillies and mountaineers, red- neck sheriffs, sweet-vo iced b eauty queens, and tobacco-chewing good old boys. Reality brings a much broader and deeper array of people into focus—not distorted, one-dimensl()nal caricatures, but a congeries of humanity T0day's Southerners range across the spectrum Of age, race, residence, occupation, and lncome. They are men and women, native- born and adopted, whO sometimes seem as different fi 、 0n1 one another as they are unlike people elsewhere—and yet, at the same time, many ofthem have in com- mon certain manners and habits, certam ways ofspeaking, and certain traits 0f personality that mark them unmistakably as Southerners. lt is both their differences and their similarities that make them interesting. The people of the South often stand apart 仕 om their Ⅱ ow Americans— more markedly, perhaps, than do North- erners or Easterners or Westerners. For better and worse, through generations Of fabricated images and stark realities, Southerners somehow have managed tO preserve remnants Oftheir reglonal iden- tity as individuals and as a people, ⅲ spite ofthe gradual emergence ofa look-alike culture across the nation as a whole. Within the region, the simple fact of diversity is a myth-shattering surprise tO many non-Southerners whO have pic- 24 衵 Pages 66 / 67 : D 尾、 C ん矼 / 召豆 0 れ , 、 So 襯ん C 0 / わ乢 Opposite page: ん”雇ハイの・な 〃 g ん , 初プん C 〃川 / わ乢 This page: 4 / いマ “んな化沢イ Race, 69

The Homeplace A white frame country farmhouse sits securely harbored in the lee 0f a ridge 0f densely wooded hills. lts dark green shutters match the color Of the painted tin roof. A wisp ofblue-gr 、 ay smoke curls 仕 0n1 the stone chimney, spiraling slowly into the canopy 0f over- hangmg maples. From the front porch, the view IS eastward across a broad field of hay, newly cut and baled. A dusty lane approaches the house circuitously, skirting the field and bordering on its opposite side a split rail fence and a woodlot, dark and quiet in the gather- ing dusk. The smell 0f hay and hickory smoke hangs in the air, pungent and familiar. An old dog trots forward t0 the edge of the yard t0 deliver a tail-waggmg welcome, its bark like a fi 、 iendly voice from the past. Across the length of the porch, the windows and front door throw out warm beams Of mellow light. VOices and laughter float out intO the evening air, echoing softly. Home—coming back to the known, the comfortable, the safe, the secure—is an experience and a feeling Of universal dimensions. AII through history, around the world, people have been drawn by the magnetizing power of home. ln the South, that power is reinforced by many influences—the prlmary lmportance of tradition and history, the binding ties of family relationships, the respect accorded tO spiritual and social author- ity, the widely practiced and highly valued art of storytelling, the love of land, and the sense of place. Regardless Of age, sex, race, or econom1C status, Southerners seldom can be indifferent to the feelings of duty, respect, kinship, and continuity that attach themselves to the image and reality of home. Pages 92 / 93 : ハわの 0 れ 加襯孕化怩 Crag S 切 , V の〃厖 Pages 94 / 95 : , 4 〃れ衂 Ge01 仏 Opposite page: 沢れ / カ 0 立研 47g0 , Ken 々花い The look of it is as diverse and var- ied in the mind's eye as are the people WhO summon it tO remembrance. The country farmhouse is but one lmage among many: an antebellum mansl()n, a cabin in the woods, a weather-beaten coastal cottage, a bungalow on a shady small-town street, an urban town house, a surburban ro 、 house, a City apart- ment, a prefab, a mobile home—so many styles, and all 0f them with fea- tures duplicated elsewhere. lt is not architecture that makes homeplaces ln the South so distinctive, not physical characterist1CS or decoratlons or antiq- uity; rather, it is something in the mind and heart, something emotional. Families, churches, schools, and towns periodically throw themselves intO festive gatherings Of their returning sons and daughters•, in one recent year, an entlre state, Tennessee, focused an abundance Of time, money, and energy on a year-long homecoming celebration in which tens ofthousands ofpeople took part. Whatever it is that makes Southern- ers, religlous or not, sing along t0 the strains of"Will the Circle Be Unbroken? ” is also the force that beckons them back to their roots for periodic renewals ofthe faith and the promise. ln cities and towns or in the country, fi 、 0n1 the mountains and hills to the bottomlands and the sea, home in the Southern experience IS a fundamental feeling, a state ofmind. 97

、、 ln the North they telljokes',' said Robert Penn War1 ℃ n, who has gone from his non-urban Kentucky and Ten- nessee roots tO world fame as a poet and novelist, 、 'but in the South, at least in the South Of that pre-television time, they told tales—elaborate, winding, wan- dering creations that might never wear out, stories full ofhuman perception and subtlety, told with a richness of lan- guage and expressionl' lt was, said War- ren, 。 a regional difference'.' Talk in the porch age, he concluded, was "a South- ern gift that springs fi 、 om the pores of the society.. lt is easy tO trace the extension Of that gift ofwords from thelevel ofcasual conversatlon mt() ()ther dimensl()ns Of Southern Ⅲ 6. Out ofall proportion to their numbers, people who were raised in this region have gained prommence as novelists, poets, teachers, preachers, journalists, historians, lawyers,judges, politicians—and all ofthose professions require the same sort oflistening and talking skills that long evenings on the porch provided. Expression—verbal, written, and musical—is a Southern hallmark. If it is correct tO generalize about taciturn New Englanders or Western men offew words, itis equally ℃ ct to speak ofganulous Southerners. Fired with imagination, inspired by their own rhetoric and that of others, they are forever talking and singing, preaching and praying, crying and laughing. A gmadual flattening of regional accents has been taking place across the United States ( ) 、℃ r the past quarter- century or so. Television is probably the mam contributing factor, valuing as it does the sort Of neutral, standard, unac- cented speaking style that is easily understood in a11 regions Of the country.. Against this trend, Southern voices have shown flashes Of persistence. There are dozens Of distinctive subregional accents within the South; some Of them, particularly in rural areas, seem hardly to have changed at all over the ) ℃ ars. ln the Mississippi Delta, in the Cajun coun- try of Louisiana, in the Ozarks and the Appalachians, in the South Carolina Low Country, and along Virginia's East- ern Shore, the lyricalcadence of local speech reverberates with language that echoes a distant past. ln these rich voices of black and white Southerners,

and deliberate as it once was, certainly, but still not as brisk and frenzied as is the pace in the cities ofthe Nor 山 . There IS a more personal atmosphere, t00 , marked by friendliness and intimacy (or is it simply curiosity?) in the day-to-day dealings Of casual acquaintances and even strangers. "Atlanta (read Nashville, Char10tte, Tampa, etc) isjust an overgrown country townt' the familiar line goes. N0b0dy says that about Boston, New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles. The Southern cities still take pride in their rural ori- gms, even though the connections have become weaker and more fragile in the ・ l()dern age. Meanwhile, out in the real Southern countryside, small-town and ruralliving is undergoing changesjust as profound and as pe ハ asive as those taking place in the cities. The family farm is disappear- ing, losing out tO mechanized superfarms WhiCh are larger in SIZe and fewer in num- ber. Manufacturing and serVlCe industries are the main employers now—they and the federal, state, county, and municipal governments. Southerners from the coun- try are moving intO the towns and cities, looking for work—and at the same time, many urban dwellers, weary ofthe frenetic pace oflife on the avenues, are dnving up and down the backroads, searching for country homes and a little tranquility. FIorida's explosive growth (its population has quadrupled since 1950 ) virtually has created several cities 斤 0n1 scratch. ln 1900 , Miami was a swampy village 0f a few hundred people, and Fort Lauderdale did not exist at all; now, both are hubs ofmetropolitan areas that number more than a million people. Orlando is yet another ofthe Sunshine State's "new" cities. Finally, between the mountains and the sea, the South is spot- ted with thriving capital cities such as Jackson and Montgomery and Raleigh, budding metropolises such as Char10tte, and the prototype urban center ofthem all, the one and only Atlanta. ln these thirty-six cities live about twenty million people—one-third 0f the entire population Ofthe regl()n. AS cities everywhere become more and more alike what d0 the ones in the South still have in C01 れ 1 on , and What basic charac- teristics still glve them recognition as Southern places? One thing is the climate, especially the hot and humid summers. Another is the pace of ⅱ —not as SIOW 1 引 99

Close to sixty million people now live in the eleven Southern states framed by Virgmia and Kentucky on the north and by Arkansas and Louisiana on the west. Until the end ofWorld War Ⅱ , when the population was only halfas large as it is now, a substantial majority ofthe people lived in small towns or in the countryside. NO cities Ofa million residents existed in the regl()n, and only one or tWO were even halfthat Iarge.T0day, Atlanta leads five Southern metropolises in the million-plus class, and about twenty cities in the reglOn have a half-million or more residents. Fully one-fourth ofthe hundred largest cities in the nauon are in the eles ℃ n Southern states. lnjust a little more than a genera- tion, the South has been converted 仕 01 a rural tO a predominantly urban culture, and urbanization has made the region seem 1 れ ore uniform, more like the rest Of the country. But the cities still retain some vestiges Ofa recognizable Southern char- acter, and they 記 so differ significantly one 仕 01 another. Mere menüon ofabout three dozen underscores the POint. Age and geography account for much Of the variety.. The ocean cities have been here the longest, Of course—・ St. Augustine (the oldest), Savannah, Charleston, Wilmington, Norfolk—and they have about them a 100k and feel of イ・・ . をま 3 イ 4 ageless grace. Pensacola and M0bile reflect the same charm in their outward facing toward the Gulf of Mexico. The younger cities 0f Tampa and St. Peters- burg on the west coast 0fFlorida, along withJacksonville on the east, also 100k tO the sea. New OrIeans gets much of its per- sonality 什 om its status as bOth a seaport and a river city.. lnland, the river ports of Baton Rouge and Memphis on the Mississippi, Louisville on the Ohio, Nashville on the Cumberland, and Richmond on theJames all can trace long histories of growth up 仕 om the waterfront. Rivers are also important tO the geography and history 0fLittle Rock, Chattanooga, Knoxville, and Columbia, but other physical features—hills, moun- tains, and plains—seem somehow closer to their nature. Asheville and Roanoke are truly mountain cities, while several Others ・—Lexington and Birmingham, Greenville and Spartanburg, Greensboro and Winston-Salem—circle the moun- tain periphery. This page: wo Or れ P れ〃 0 れれ召〃 r Ⅳ〃襯 g れ , 初 C 0 / わ . Opposite page: Po 尾んか C んの / 0 れ , 立襯ん C の況わ 98

ln the South, the sights and sounds that trigger recollection and the sensa- tions Of smell and taste and touch that stir the memory are deeply rooted in the land and in nature. A sunrise in the Smokies, a sunset on the Gulf, a full moon over the Atlantic—these are dramatic images that never lose their power t0 inspire. The hushed whisper of the wind in the pines, the symphony of birdsong at daybreak, the soothing rush and tinkle ofa cold mountain stream—these are sounds that no Southern nature lover ever tlres ()f hearing. The heady fragrance of orange blossoms, thejuicy sweetness of a ripe peach, the gentle softness of beach sand sifting through the fingers—these are sensuous pleasures that no amount Of repetition can dull. Out of the hard red clay of the hill country, the sandy loam of the coastal lowlands, and the rich black alluvial soil of the deltas, generations of Southern- ers have harvested abundant quantities 0f seasonal produce—spring asparagus and strawberries and bibb lettuce, sum- mer sweet corn and field peas and tomatoes, fall apples and peanuts and pecans, winter citrus and turnip greens and collards. For beauty and fragrance, there is a perpetual showcase of blos- soms that seem almost synonymous with the South: dogwoods and azaleas, camellias and magnolias, wisteria and crepe myrtle, and rhododendron and mountain laurel. The anclent sentinels are gone from the forests, but younger stands of hardwoods and evergr ℃ ens have rlsen in their place, dense enough in S01 蝨 e bosky precincts tO blOt out the summer sun. The diverse plenitude Of hickory and ash and oak, maple and poplar and gum, locust and beech, and countless others fllls the autumn woods with fiery blazes of color. NO one can decipher the mystical rhythms of the calendar; like ocean cur- rents, the seasons move according tO their own unseen clock, bringing with them flood and drought, fire and ice, hurricanes, tornadoes, and heat waves. Against such power there is no defense, only grudging compliance. Southern stewards of the land know the futility Of resistance; they can only wait on the weather, bending with its winds or bow- ing tO its soaking rains and scorching sunshine—understanding all the while that only time can balance the ever- turning wheel Of deliverance. And the land remains, always the land. lnstitutions rise and fall, people come and go, the weather constantly changes, but the land holds on. lt is the literal and figurative ground of South- ern life, the bedrock of Southern being. Some unthinking tenants may assault it with blight and pollution—contaminate its soils, burn its forests, stain its healing waters with refuse, fill the air above it with noxlous poisons—but the land survives. lt was here before the ancestors of Tecumseh and Sequoyah arrived, and from every indication, it will be present still when the human parade has run ltS course. 、リ A 切 C の 0 防乢 厖〃市れ g 矼 Deals Ga. カ , Opposite page: C ん 初 C の祝わ乢 G 川れ砌ん M 襯〃氿 This page : ん 0 〃市 0 れ , 1

Born in AtIanta, Georg1a, in 1943 , Bill spent his early years in Georgla, and after a briefstay in the Mid ・ west, went back to Raleigh, North Carolina, for his high school and college at the University 0fNorth Carolina in Chapel Hill. He has also lived in Charleston, South Carolina, where his son,Will, was born. Bill, who holds an M. A. in international economics and law from theJ0hns Hopkins School ofAdvanced lnternational Studies, has worked as a foreign policy analyst, a leglslative assistant tO a United States senator, a Navy ph() ・ tographer, and a TV cameraman. He became a professional free-lance photographer in 1975 and since then, his work has appeared in 加われ記 Geq んな , Geo, r おわ V , S 夜んんわ and many other national maga ・ zines and newspapers. His photographs have also been used by the Associated Press, UPI, and CBS TeIevision. He is a frequent contribu ・ tor t0 b00ks and multi ・ media shows. His ph0 [ 0 ・ graphs have been included in shows atthe Kennedy Center and other galleries in the Washington, D.C. , area. Bill's first self-published book, Ge01 仏・ The 〃 0 ど , completely sold out allcopies and won two New York Art Direc- tor's Club Awards. Other recent books by BilI are lVIaD'land, スし v 藐り辺″ , andDeBordieu, a photographic essay 0f a sea island. An enthusiastic teacher, he iS a regular instructor at thé Maine Ph0tographic Work- shops and 0ther workshops across the country. HiS classes specialize in the creative use Of C010r pho [ 0 ph メ Cunently, although he specializes in corporate and advertising photography, he still manages tO dO some editorial work. BiIIIives in Washington, D. C. , with his wife, Prisca Crettier, his 19 ・ year ・ 01d son, WiIl, and his 16-year ・ 01d daughter, Prisca. タ 一一一 IIOZZA Å(I 三 ( 上 ( 一 ゞ John Egerton, a lifelong Southerner, iS a freelance journalist and author whose writing over the past twenty-five years has been focused primarily on people and events in his 0. native region. HiS bO()kS incIudeA M わ記 & 〃催 4 The ハ襯夜を側た襯あれ研 D N / ル〃厄・ T / IQ ぉ研 7ivo C 〃ぉ , G 催襯 and Sot 襯旧ん . He lives now in Tennessee. 0

Acknow1edgements My debt is 甼℃ at indeed to the many people and institutions whO have assisted me in the planning and pro- duction of this book. No successful project that covers this much territory over such a long periOd Of time can be the product of a solitary effort. I am very much obliged to B0b and Lee Anderson for their thoughts on the structure of the book and in helping to select the author. I am also grateful to Oliver and Lisa Houck for their enthusi- astic help in planning my coverage 0f their region and for giving me shelter when needed. I am deeply indebted to Dick Durrance Ⅱ and Steve Uzzell III for their tireless editorial assistance and strong personal support. I was also very fortunate tO have the assistance ofMark Schifrin, who gave so much ofhimself when it was needed most. My deep gratitude goes to the Citizens and Southern Banks, a financial institution with roots fnmly planted in Southern soil and with an abiding appreciation ofthe South and the people who live and work there. Their initialinterest led tO a gener- ous gmantwhich makes this b00k possible. I was pleased and honored to work closely with the C&S staff in several states. A very special thank you goes tO John Haynie,Jr., and to Enoch Prow, as well as tO 、 lr. Bennett Brown who is chairman of C&S for their trust in my ViS1()Il and their 、 Of encourage- ment along the way. 128 A special word of thanks goes to the National Geogmaphic Society and to Bill Garrett, editor, for their permission tO use some Of the images I produced on earlier assignments for them south Of the Mason-Dixon line. Along the way I was supported by many people who gave graciously 0f their time energy, and knowledge. I would like to give a very special thanks to Orissa Arend andJohn Schenken, Ben Chapman, Ron Comedy, Dana Contratto,John Crawford and Kathy Sakas, Ralph and Nonnie Daniel, Kim Davidson Jacques DePuy, Scott and Beth Glass, Critt Graham, Greg and Bubbles Guirard, Panos Kammenos, Rob Kennedy, Sue Lyons and Mark Lyons,Jorge Mom, Dick andJoy ℃ e Murlless and the wonder- ful staffat Wilderness Southeast, David Pemson and Chris Pemson, Wallace Sfi ℃ et, CharIes C. WiIkes, Patricia Young of the Delta Queen Steamship Company, and the many Others. 、 ly tWO assistants during the pro- duction phases were Peter Ⅵ第 andJ0hn MuIIin. As the miles and days went by, they supported me with their good ideas, strong backs, and high energy Without the support and friendship 0fPeter and John, I could never have hoped to cover SO much in SO little time. When all the photos were made and it came time tO design the bOOk, I relied entirely on the extraordinary good taste and fine design 0fBob Cargill and Art Riser ofCargill and Associates, lnc. in Atlanta. Bob, Art, and their talented staff, especially Pam Ei レ en, performed the delicate task of designing the book with consummate skill, remarkable patience, and old-fashioned gracious- ness. I shall long be in their debt. A very special debt must be acknowl- edged to my office manager and col- lea 鵐 Shelley Yerman, who kept the fort going in my long absences and did a yeoman'sJ0b on all the necessary typ- ing and collecting 0f the b00k parts. My hat is also off toJean Andrews ofGraphic Arts Center Publishing Company for her outstanding editing and organizational efforts. Her superior command of the English language as well as her long suffering patience made her efforts critical tO the book's success. Doug Pfeiffer, my editor at Graphic Arts Center Publishing Company, has proven to be an excellent b00k producer. His suggestions were always right on the mark. lt was a pleasure tO get tO know and tO work withJohn Egerton, the sensitive and insightful writer 0f the literary side of the book. He responded to the pres- sures and tight deadlines with special grace and silent determination during a difficult time ofhis ⅱ . I am honored to share these pages with him. Last, but perhaps most important, I say a special thanks t0 my wife, Prisca, my son, Will, and my daughter, Prisca. As the days became weeks and then months, it has been their special sense of togetherness and purpose that has unified us all. They were often with me on the road, and when not physically so, their love and spirit sustained me. ー召襯 We 翩Ⅳ