Tag Archives: To Kill a Mockingbird

Truman Capote and Harper Lee: Best Friends

Truman Capote and Nelle Harper Lee grew up next door to each other in Monroeville, Alabama with only a stone wall separating their yards. At the time, Truman’s last name was Persons, and his parents had left him at his aunts’ home while they partied and moved around. Later, his mother remarried a Cuban businessman with the surname, Capote.

Truman was a lonely little boy. He and Nelle were the only kids of their type in town: very bright and tremendous readers. As a result they became fast friends. Also, as a neighbor said, “Truman was too soft for the boys, and Nelle was too tough for the girls.”

In Nelle’s tree house they wrote stories together, mainly about the people they spied on. In To Kill a Mockingbird, Nelle based the character of Dill on Truman. (Remember, Dill said his parents didn’t want him.) Truman based the character of Isobel on Nelle in his novel, Other Voices, Other Rooms.

When Truman went to Kansas to investigate the murders of a farm family for what became one of the best pieces of crime nonfiction of the 20th century, In Cold Blood, he asked Nelle to accompany him. Like they children they had been, they went on a big adventure together that involved snooping and writing.

How Gregory Peck Saved “To Kill a Mockingbird,” the Film

The director who purchased the film rights to To Kill a Mockingbird, Alan Pakula, had a tough time getting any major studio interested. First, the story seemed too small and regional: racism in a Southern town. Audiences wanted movie Westerns with mountains and Indians and shoot-outs. Second, a few studio offers came with strings attached: Bing Crosby should be Atticus. No, Rock Hudson.

tumblr_mdfqgibK5W1r3vyizo1_500Finally, Gregory Peck read the novel and called Pakula to say he’d stayed up most of the night finishing it. Couldn’t put it down. If Pakula wanted him, Peck was in. When financing became a problem, Peck staked a lot of his own money in the production, with the provision that he would have creative control over the final editing.

To save money, Pakula cast Broadway actors, not film stars. An additional advantage was that they were unknown to film audiences: more like ordinary people. And for the parts of Scout and Jem, he decided on two kids from Birmingham who spoke with Alabama accents. (The actor who played Bob Ewell was a Southerner too, and not much different from his character!)

Peck was always proudest of his role as Atticus Finch. His belief in the power of a humble man doing what’s fair and right has been born out over the years, too. In a survey of film heroes by the American Film Institute, Atticus was voted #1 out of 100. Not the Terminator, not Superman, not John Wayne, but a small town lawyer who followed his conscience.

Little-Known Facts About Harper Lee

Boo Radley was modeled after a young man named Arthur Bouleware, who lived on Harper Lee’s street, Alabama Avenue in Monroeville, Alabama. His father did indeed force Arthur to stay in the house for most of his adult life, as a punishment for having been arrested. Arthur was carried out dead at 40 from tuberculosis.

The novel’s Tom Robinson trial isn’t based on the notorious trial of the Scottsboro boys, as many scholars have maintained. It’s loosely adapted from the trial of a black man in Monroeville, Walter Lett, who was accused of raping Naomi Lowery, a poor white woman in her 20s. Lett was sentenced to death, but the governor commuted his sentence to life in prison. The order came too late. Lett, locked in a cell near the electric chair and fearful was certified insane. He died from tuberculosis in an Alabama state sanitarium.

The events surrounding Lett were carried in the Monroeville Journal, Lee’s hometown newspaper, when her father was editor-publisher in the 1930s. Harper Lee was Scout’s age at the time.

In 1959, Harper Lee was so fed up with revising the third draft of To Kill a Mockingbird— or Atticus, as she was calling it— that she threw the manuscript out the window of her apartment in New York into the snow. She called her editor, Tay Hohoff to say she couldn’t go on. Hohoff told her to march outside, pick up the pages, and keep working because the novel was as much a product of Hohoff’s guidance as Lee’s talent.

In Kansas a few months later, Harper Lee and Truman Capote depended on their ingenuity to outwit other reporters covering the Clutter family murders. They befriended the lead detective on the case, Alvin Dewey, who surreptitiously gave them items from the confidential files of the Kansas Bureau of Investigation, and access to the killers. The result was Capote’s In Cold Blood.

Gregory Peck, who had creative control over the filming in 1962 of “To Kill a Mockingbird” wrote a long, point-by-point memo to the director, Alan Pakula, arguing that certain scenes needed to be recut to make Atticus’s role more important than the children’s.

In the spring of 1963 when the film premiered at the Melba Theater in Birmingham, Alabama, a crowd arrived to catch a glimpse of child stars playing Scout and Jem. Apparently, the movie’s message about bigotry didn’t impress the city’s leaders, however. A few weeks later, Sheriff “Bull” Connor waged war on civil rights demonstrators with dogs and fire hoses.

Lee remained Capote’s steadfast friend until the late 1970s when his alcohol and drug abuse became uncontrollable.

Fifteen years ago, a first edition To Kill a Mockingbird in a “very good” condition was worth about $2,500. Today, it would bring over $10,000. A presentation copy was bought at auction not long ago for $12,650.

To Kill a Mockingbird consistently ranks in the top half of the “100 Most Often Banned Books” according to the American Library Association. Some school boards and parents have objected to the language; others don’t believe Tom Robinson’s trial for rape is a fit subject for young readers.

The Kindly Judge Who Should Have Sent Boo Radley to Jail

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In his youth, Judge Murdock McCorvey Fountain “Judge Mick” was a rootin‘-tootin‘ sheriff who got nicked in the forehead by a bullet during a gunfight. But as a silver-haired judge in his 50s, Judge Mick was known to a decent man who thought the best of people. Everyone in Harper Lee’s hometown of Monroeville, Alabama knew him.

Consequently, when some boys were hauled before him arrested for vandalism, destruction of public property, breaking and entering, and disturbing the peace, Judge Mick wasn’t eager to send them away for a year in the reformatory. But he did. Except for a boy named Arthur Bouleware. Arthur’s father intervened.

Judge, if you remand custody of my son to me, I swear he’ll never bother anyone in this town again.

So Judge Mick sent Arthur home with his father. As punishment, Mr. Bouleware pulled Arthur out of high school and grounded him indefinitely. For a football player, this was a disaster. Moreover, Mr. Bouleware kept his son at home month after month, year after year, until Arthur was too frightened to be seen in public.

Arthur never left that house until he was carried out on a stretcher, dead at 40 from tuberculosis. He’s buried next to his father in Monroeville.

And that sad young man was the model for Boo Radley.

Why A.C. Lee was the Model for Atticus Finch

When Harper Lee’s father, A.C. Lee was a young attorney, newly admitted to the bar, a judge appointed him to defend two black men accused of murdering a white man. It was a botched robbery, actually. The storekeeper they robbed was elderly and died from a blow to the head.

AC Lee young attorney copyA.C. had almost no time to prepare. Still, he raised five serious objections at the trial, the first being that the dead man’s son was on the jury! The judge overruled each objection. Lee did the best he could, but this was “Negro law,” as it was referred to in the South: a kind of pantomime of a real justice. Both of A.C.’s clients were hanged.

About two weeks later, the dead man’s other son in upstate New York received a package. Inside were the scalps of the two hanged man with a note:

Justice has been done in Alabama.
Mr. Lee never took another criminal case. He would not participate in courthouse shams involving the poor, the frightened, and the hapless. But he had stood up in the name of justice. As Atticus said to the jury, “In the name of God, do your duty.”

Go Set a Literary Detective: Finding “Watchman” in Broad Daylight, Years Ago

Miss Lee would not cooperate. That was the word I received from agent and her publisher when I started the research for Mockingbird: A Portrait of Harper Lee. She did not want a biography written and, as I discovered almost immediately, she was busy calling friends and asking them not to talk to me or share photographs.

But practically no one can live in America and not leave a paper trail: there are yearbooks, newspaper articles, phone books and, in Miss Lee’s case, she was best friends with Truman Capote— the lonely little man from New Orleans atop his own literary wedding cake in 1950s New York City, when Harper Lee was writing Go Set a Watchman.

Miss Lee recently responded to a reporters' two-page request with "Go away!"

Miss Lee recently responded to a reporter’s  two-page request with “Go away!”

Capote loved attention. So if I could catch Miss Lee in his vicinity from time to time, that would help. His papers were in the New York Public library. And Miss Lee’s agent, Annie Laurie Williams— an effusive lady from Denison, Texas, married to a tough guy journalist named Maurice Crain— had left her papers to Columbia University. I was hoping there might be clues there, as well—drafts of novels, contracts, and so on.

For the rest, for background and reinforcing hunches, I would just have to expend a lot of shoe leather interviewing people and getting the facts from them— those who would talk about her, anyway.

But why, if she didn’t want a biography written, was I pursuing her as a subject?

I get asked that a lot. It’s because I wanted to get the story of her life before it was too late. Harper Lee didn’t leave her papers anywhere. The University of Alabama, her alma mater, asked for them, but she refused. And she never served on any noteworthy foundations, or boards, or help run organizations for writers like PEN. So if readers and literary historians were going to find out how To Kill a Mockingbird came to be written and published, and who was the author behind it, I was going to have to start knocking on doors.

 

I’d quit my job in 2004 at an educational publishing company to research and write Miss Lee’s biography. I did as much outlining and phone calling about her early life as I could from home. But finally I needed to get to New York. My wife and I rented a room on Riverside Drive in Manhattan. It was this time of year, July, and hot. We shared a rather nasty double bed in a room that smelled of cigar smoke. And in the window overlooking the street was an air conditioner that dripped, and sounded like a jet engine idling.

We fell into a routine of stopping at Zabar’s every morning for coffee and a bagel. We made a lunch of deli items from the coolers, and caught a bus to the New York Public Library. Capote’s papers, deposited there by his partner Jack Dunphy were orderly and easy to comb through. But there was no correspondence from Miss Lee.

images-1On the second day, though, I hit on folders containing hundreds of pages of notes. From the voice and details, it was clear that Lee was sitting a typewriter in a hotel room. She and Truman were in Holcomb, Kansas, investigating the murder of the Clutter family. “He said it would a tremendously involved job and would take two people. The crime intrigued him, and I’m intrigued with crime— and, boy, I wanted to go. It was deep calling to deep.” There were hand-drawn maps, quick impressions, and a little marginalia. This was the raw material for In Cold Blood.

The notes were from 1959 until 1965, when In Cold Blood began appearing in installments in the New Yorker. But the focus always was on Capote and his work. Still, by putting the notes in chronological order, and studying maps and photos, I could recreate Nelle and Truman, childhood friends, moving about Holcomb and Garden City, “out there” as Truman famously said on the first page of the book. Lee had read the final manuscript, too— I knew because I recognized her immaculate handwriting here and there: “People sound too much alike. Vary the dialogue.”

But for the creation of To Kill a Mockingbird, I was hoping the answers could be found in the papers of Annie Laurie Williams at Columbia University.

 

They were there, all right. Williams was a record-keeper. Beginning in the mid-1950s, Nelle Harper Lee, who lived at 1539 York began submitting stories, such as “Snow on the Mountains.” Then she began turning in batches of a manuscript titled “Go Set a Watchman.” Some friends— a married couple she didn’t name— had loaned her money for a year to write uninterrupted in her cold-water flat. She later mentioned this after the success of To Kill a Mockingbird. But who were they?

Michael Brown who, with his wife Joy, loaned Harper Lee money so that she could work for a year on "Go Set a Watchman" uninterrupted.

Michael Brown, who with his wife Joy, loaned Harper Lee money so that she could work for a year on “Go Set a Watchman” uninterrupted.

Williams had a client named “Michael Brown,” a Broadway lyricist. There was a photo of Lee in Williams’ papers and on the back it said, “in Michael Brown’s apartment.” Incredibly, Michael Brown was still at the same address in the phone book. I called, and that mystery, at least, was cleared up.

But before Go Set a Watchman reached the desk of Lee’s eventual editor, Tay Hohoff, at Lippincott, her manuscript underwent a first pass under the eye of Maurice Crain, Williams’ husband and partner at the agency. In a letter to another client, he wrote, “Most good books, though, are ones that have been a long time maturing, with a lot of cutting and fitting and replanning done along the way. Mockingbird, for instance, was about the most replanned and rewritten book I ever had a hand in….”

This happened during a period of six months of silence after Lee turned in Go Set a Watchman. Then the revised manuscript went on to Lippincott where Hohoff— a no-nonsense, Quaker-educated, chain-smoking editor took Lee in hand and guided her through two-and-a-half years of revisions.

Lee liked to tell a story to high school English classes in her hometown of Monroeville, Alabama about the moment she lost hope.

One night, in 1959, after working for hours on a revision, she walked over to her apartment window on York Avenue, and threw the entire draft outside into the snow. Then she called Hohoff, and tearfully explained what she’d done. Hohoff told her to march outside immediately and pick up the pages. Feeling exhausted, Lee bundled up and went out into the darkness, “since I knew I could never be happy being anything but a writer… I kept at it because I knew it had to be my first novel, for better or for worse.”

The transformation of Atticus Finch in Go Set a Watchman into the Atticus of To Kill a Mockingbird was the result of Hohoff recrafting the novel, showcasing a strong, highly moral protagonist that reflected both her business sense as an editor, and her values as a Quaker. The year To Kill a Mockingbird was finished, 1959, Hohoff published her biography, A Ministry to Man: The Life of John Lovejoy Elliot. Elliot was killed by a mob in Alton, Illinois during an attack on his printing shop because of his editorials condemning slavery.

So Go Set a Watchman went through several hands before it appeared as To Kill a Mockingbird. There’s talk of other manuscripts— “The Long Goodbye,” and “The Reverend,” for instance— both of which I came across.

But people close to Harper Lee would be wise not to publish them.

What Alice Lee Told Me She Remembered

Alice Lee, Harper Lee’s elder sister passed away this week in Monroeville, Alabama at 103. Alice Lee and I corresponded while I was writing Mockingbird: A Portrait of Harper Lee. And her memories helped inform my description of what Monroeville was like when Nelle was growing up.

To a pair of young eyes, Monroeville was just a dusty old hamlet. Even after electric power had arrived in 1923, it still had hung back languidly in the 19th century.

When Nelle was child during the Great Depression during the 1930s, the sawmill whistle at noon announced it was time for the midday meal, and when it blew again at five o’clock, wives checked their progress on making supper. The metallic clink of blacksmiths’ hammers rang from several tree-shaded alleys. Down by the warehouse loading docks near the Manistee & Repton railroad depot, horse- and mule-drawn wagons still carried freight, but they were starting to be outnumbered by internal combustion trucks.

Mary Badham as Scout in the film version of To Kill a Mockingbird.

Mary Badham as Scout in the film version of To Kill a Mockingbird.

A prized trait among the residents was neighborliness. Gardeners shared “pass around perennials”— cuttings, seeds, and root dividings taken from their flower beds, knitting properties together with undulating blankets of canna lilies, coreopsis, dianthus, gladiolas, phlox and fragrant chocolate vines. No one locked doors; food was brought over in times of sickness or trouble. In hot weather, a friendly wave from a porch beckoned passersby to come on up for a glass of sweet tea. Ladies would get their work done in the morning, then get dressed in mid-afternoon and go to a neighbor’s porch for visiting. News gleaned from church, a local fraternal dinner, family events— and the weather, of course— provided dependable topics for conversation. (With as many as ten households on the same telephone party lines, everyone knew everybody else’s business, anyway.) Some talk was unwelcome in polite company, however, like the goings-on at the Wild Boar, a honky-tonk outside of town; or how a pint of bootleg liquor was for sale anytime from a certain shed in the alley on North Mount Pleasant Street.

At dusk, especially in the late summer, the dry air sparkled with sawdust from the mills. In winter, when the red clay streets turned sloppy, cars splashed along in axle-deep tire ruts like chariots on Roman roads. The week before Christmas, most farmers didn’t mind strangers coming on their land, so long as they cut just one tree for the holidays, respected the fences, and closed the gates when they left. Come nightfall, Monroeville’s sole watchman began his quiet rounds on the square.

— From Mockingbird: A Portrait of Harper Lee (Henry Holt & Co.), pp. 17-18