|
|
John Henry Legend
Radio Documentary
The Story
In many ways Talcott is a typical southern farming town, with a history of economic difficulty and racial segregation.
The railroad used to be the major employer here, but since labor has become increasingly automated over the past few decades, unemployment is high while morale and opportunities are low.
There are two Baptist churches, one white and one black. Most black residents now live up the hill in a section of town called "Pie Holler." Racial conflict doesn't tend to be overt but there's little socializing between the races. This is the context from which John Henry emerged, a hero to black and white alike. This is the culture I hoped to get to know in my radio program.
One July morning, I stopped to introduce myself at Dillon's Superette, Talcott's general store. Owner Nancy Wilder has her finger on the town's pulse. "Anyone wants to know anything . . . fire trucks go out, our phone starts ringing, 'Where's the fire truck going?' If anybody has a wreck or if anybody is sick . . you know, they'll call here. They think we know everything." For the next two weeks the Superette was my home base -- it and the post office, Talcott's other social center.
In my documentary work I usually set out fairly methodically to find the material I need. This time it was different. I took my time and let the day unfold at Talcott's pace. At first, the community was politely wary of me. While I recorded a service at the white Baptist Church, the minister introduced me to the congregation. "We welcome her to our community. We don't know just why she's here or what she's going to DO with this tape, but we certainly hope we'll like it."
I did want them to like what I'd done, but not at the expense of accuracy. Take the matter of racism. No one there openly acknowledges that it exists. In fact, they'd be likely to deny it, if you asked them. Yet there were clear divisions between the lives of black and white people there.
I approached the subject not so much as a reporter but as an artist, weaving strands of many people's stories into a single impressionistic landscape. An elderly man's comment reveals more about his views than a direct factual statement could:
"It's quiet and it's good people here. There's a lot of colored but they're good people. They come in here when the [tunnel building] was going on years ago... The old generation was fine people -- colored people, but they was good people."
Each person's thoughts add dimension to the others. A great-grandmother:
"Talcott has always . . . we had no trouble. We knew there were certain things that we were not supposed to do like go in the front door of white people's houses. It was just accepted. But I can't say that there was ever any real trouble."
Story upon story, a picture of the community emerges, as a schoolteacher teacher describes the old swimming hole -- once the only integrated spot in town -- and an octogenarian whose family is racially mixed, concludes "I couldn't raise up my kids to hate anybody, either side."
< previous: The Plan | next: The Process >
Copyright © 1999–2005, Ginna Allison. All Rights Reserved.
Contact: ginna @ wormlips [dot] com.