Listen Here (72 page)

(June 14, 1919–)

A native of Florida, Mary Elizabeth Rhyne Witherspoon graduated from the University of North Carolina in 1941 with an A.B. in drama. “I'd intended to be an actress,” says Witherspoon, “but my collegiate studies in drama turned out to be training for writing fiction.” She married Jack Witherspoon, an engineer, in 1942, and the couple moved to Knoxville, Tennessee.

Witherspoon built a career as a freelance writer while raising three sons. In 1963, she earned a master's degree in history from the University of Tennessee and later served as a history instructor at the University of Tennessee and Knoxville College. Her work includes two novels, a history of the Breadloaf Writers' Conference, a poetry collection, essays, and short stories.

“My first novel [
Somebody Speak for Katy
] was a case of ‘write what you know,'” Witherspoon says. “
The Morning Cool
[her second novel] was a case of ‘know what you write,' which is more difficult.” Witherspoon's novel
The Morning Cool
focuses on the human cost of McCarthyism in 1950s America.

In this excerpt from
The Morning Cool
, we meet Maggie Cole, a forty-something widow whose husband, Chris Cole, had been active in radical circles during the 1930s and 1940s. An old friend, Joe, comes to visit, along with his mother, and brings Maggie disturbing news regarding Senator McCarthy's crusade to uncover American communists, and Maggie begins her own search for the truth behind her husband's suicide and his political past.

Novel:
The Morning Cool
(1972),
Somebody Speak for Katy
(1950).
Nonfiction:
“On Leaping from Rock to Rock with an Intellectual,”
Whose Woods These Are, A History of the Breadloaf Writers' Conference
(1993).

Thomas Lask, “There's No Place to Hide,”
New York Times
(8 April 1972), 27.

from Part One

Between Soap Ridge and the Tennessee River lies a narrow strip of highway edged with towns—Tate City, Danzig, John's Creek, Goshen, Holly. There is a look about these towns of unnatural quiet, of complacency, and strangers passing through have sometimes said to themselves: Here lies the tag end of America; the ridge and the river have boxed these people in, walling out change, sealing in old habits and obsolete concepts.

They do not know the whole story.

…

Maggie met Joe on the porch. He looked so worried, she said quickly, “She's all right, Joe; just asleep.”

“Good. Will you sit down a minute? I need to talk to you.”

She sat down; so did he, and began rubbing his hands together; then he sneezed.

“Do you have your pills?” she asked.

He ignored her, and blew his nose. Then he shook his head hard, like a wet dog trying to get dry. He passed one hand across his forehead, and rubbed his hands together again.

“Joe, you're making me nervous. What's on your mind?”

“I ran into Will Green this morning.”

“In Nashville? I thought he was in Texas.”

“He comes back, now and then. Maggie…” He chewed his lip and rubbed his hands again. “I know you don't have anything to hide, but how much do your children know?”

“About what?”

“About their father.”

Maggie stopped rocking. When she spoke, her tone sounded stilted and pious. “They know that he was a labor organizer, and they know—that is, Meg and Mark know—that he killed himself.”

Joe gave her a long, incredulous look. After a while, he said, “
I
didn't know that, Maggie. You said it was heart trouble, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. But the older children knew.”

“Do they know why?”

Maggie stared into the snowball bush. She felt tears rising, and she tried to swallow them before Joe could see. She felt in her pockets for Kleenex.

“
I
don't know why, Joe, for sure. Do you?” She looked at him, pleading, ignoring the tears.

There was a puzzle in his eyes she couldn't solve—something anxious, something gentle, something hurt.

“No, I don't, Maggie,” he said. “I really don't.” He laid his hand, very lightly, on her arm, then very quickly drew it back. She began to rock again, quiet, and finally she asked, “What was it that Willoughby told you?”

“Oh, he's had people coming around asking questions, and he's been to see a lawyer. He thinks he's gonna be subpoenaed, and that if he is, the rest of us may be, too.”

There was still a question in his eyes, and Maggie frowned. “Joe,” she said, “Chris wasn't a Communist; he hated the CP with a passion. You know that.”

Joe linked his fingers and rubbed his thumbs together. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess. But do you remember a guy named Ernest Greeley?”

“Yes. He was a snake.”

“He's still a snake, and he's turned witness for the government.”

She said, “That damned hypocrite. He's the kind Chris hated the most.”

“He hated Chris, too, Maggie.”

“Oh, lord. But Joe, surely—even McCarthy won't take the word of a slimy character like that—surely.”

“They
are
taking his word, Maggie, about all sorts of things. Besides, he's not their only witness. Do you remember Killion?”

“Of course.”

“Well, he's on their staff, now, Maggie; it's Killion's files they're using.”

“Oh, Joe.” Her tone said very clearly, I was learning to trust you, up to this point, but…

He got the implication, and he flushed. “Look,” he said. “I'm not making these things up. Don't you read the papers?”

“Yes.” (But not really, do I? I open the pages, and I scan, but I lower my lashes when the seeing hurts.) “But, Joe,
Killion.
I mean, I know his views changed a lot through the years, and I'm not sure I ever really liked him. But he was honest; I could swear he was.”

“He probably still is, Maggie.”

She thought about that, and then said, “Then it's all right.”

“I hope so.” He looked deflated and embarrassed; he pushed himself up from his chair and started to go inside. “At least,” he said, “I can get Ma off your hands.”

“No, wait, Joe. Don't change the subject. And don't go, please. I really don't want to be alone right now.”

He let out his breath and sat back. He said with his eyes closed, “Thanks. I really don't want to nurse Ma, either, all by myself.”

Maggie sat rocking, thinking, trying to be calm. After a while, she said, “What could they do to people like us, even with Killion's files?”

He covered his face with both hands, blew into his cupped palms, and rubbed his eyebrows with his fingertips. “Theoretically,” he said, “they can't do anything to you unless you were involved in something criminal like sabotage or espionage or conspiracy—but you know what they do, they just throw out a big net and see what they can haul in. Sometimes they pick up one or two genuine revolutionaries that way, but in the process a lot of ordinary people lose their jobs, their kids get ostracized at school, and all that sort of thing. The trouble is, most of these characters don't know a Communist from a Socialist.”

She said, “I never even joined the Socialist Party.”

“You didn't?”

“No. I think I might have, back then. But Chris thought they were a bunch of pantywaists.”

“What did you join? Did you join any of the front groups?”

“I don't think so. I'm not even sure I know what you mean by ‘front groups.'”

“You know, the ones they listed a few weeks ago, eleven or twelve of them.”

“I haven't kept up, Joe. What were they?”

“Well, let's see—there's the American Committee for the Protection of the Foreign Born, the Council on African Affairs, the Joint Anti-Fascist Refugee Committee…”

“What on earth is that?”

“I don't know, but it's supposed to matter.”

“And what else?”

“The Civil Rights Congress, the National Council of American-Soviet Friendship, the United May Day Committee…that's all I can remember at the moment.”

She wanted to laugh, but she didn't. “Joe, Chris didn't like groups, and we almost never joined things. Especially things with names like that.”

“Did you ever give money to organizations, or sign any petitions?”

“We never had any money. We did sign things sometimes. Peace things, mostly, and sometimes civil rights. After Chris died, I did join that one that was started in Atlanta—I think it was called SKY.”

“Oh my God; that's the one.”

“Why? It was perfectly harmless.”

“It
was
, I know. But they claim that it got took, Maggie.”

“But Joe, it's dead as a doornail, now.”

“That don't make no difference, HUAC's got it on their list, and if you were on its list, you're a clay pigeon.”

“Ay-y-y.” She bit off a hangnail.

He saw he had her troubled, and he tried to back off. “Look, Maggie,” he said, “I didn't mean to upset you; I probably blew the whole thing up too big…” He began to fidget, the way he had when she tried to get him to talk about Brother Frank. And she understood one thing that he was saying with his eyes. It wasn't really her connections that disturbed him (she'd done her swimming in the bayou, not the channel); it was Chris.

“Joe…” she began, and hesitated.

“Yeah?”

“There are some things of Chris's—two or three packages—in the barn. I'm not sure just what's in them. I glanced through, after he died, but not carefully. I guess I didn't want to face them. Do you think I should go into them now?”

He said very quickly, “Nobody knows that but you.”

They were hand-washing, excommunicating words; she could hear a gavel pound on varnished wood. Nobody, nobody else, Maggie Cole; just you.

O
THER
V
OICES TO
S
TUDY

Many other women writers throughout the Appalachian region are worthy of being included in this book, which could easily have been twice as large. Some of the writers have not yet published a book and others are widely recognized. This list of selected titles is in no way comprehensive; it is merely a starting point for further study. New writers are constantly emerging. The voices listed here also deserve to be heard.

F
The Purchase of Order
(Athens: Univ. of Georgia Press, 1988), won Flannery O'Connor Award

P We're Alright But We Ain't Special: Poems by three women from Appalachia
[Gail V. Amburgey, Mary Jane Coleman, Pauletta Hansel] (Beckley, W.Va.: Mountain Union Books, 1976)

P
Some Poems by Some Women
[Gail V. Amburgey, Alice May Holdren Oglesby, Bonni V. McKeown, Leslie Thornhill Graham, F. Evelyn Ryan, Pauletta Hansel] (Beckley, W.Va.: Quickprint Center, 1975)

F & P Stories and poems published in
New Voices, Kestrel, Carolina Quarterly, Redbook, The Sun

F
Those That Mattered
(New York: Crown Publishers, 1994)

NF
Sexual Harassment in the Coal Industry: A Survey Of Women Miners
by Connie White, Barbara Angle, & Marat Moore (Oak Ridge, Tenn.: Coal Employment Project, 1981)

F
Rinker
(Washington, D.C.: Crossroads Press, 1979)

P
A Wild Kentucky Garden: Poems & Essays
(Ashland, Ky.: Jesse Stuart Foundation, 1998)

YA
Up Molasses Mountain
(New York: Wendy Lamb Books, 2002)

F
Cis Martin, or The Furriners in the Tennessee Mountains
(1898)

YA
McKendree
(New York: Greenwillow Books, 2000)

YA
From Miss Ida's Porch
(New York: Four Winds Press, 1993)

P
No Private Life
(Vanderbilt Univ. Press, 1990)

NF
Wide Neighborhoods: A Story of the Frontier Nursing Service
(New York: Harper, 1952), memoir of its founder

P
Blind Horse
(Huron, Ohio: Bottom Dog Press, 1999)

P
Breathless
(Kent, Ohio: Kent State Univ. Press, 1995)

F
Louisiana
(New York: Scribner's, 1880)

NF
The One I Knew Best of All: A Memory of the Mind of a Child
(Scribner, 1893)

YA
After the Goat Man
(New York: Viking, 1974)

YA
The Summer of Swans
(New York: Viking, 1970)

SR
In The Shadow of Clinch Mountain
, Bear Family Records, 2000

SR
Sara &Maybelle Carter
, Bear Family Records

SR
An Historic Reunion: Sara & May belle, the Original Carters
, Koch, 1966, 1997

F
Sapphira and the Slave Girl
, 1940

P
Sit Down, Says Love
(The Argonne Hotel Press, 1999)

P
Heart on a Leash
(Red Dragon Press, 1998)

P
Pinecrest Rest Haven
(Word Works, 1998)

P
Poems: New & Selected
(Pensacola, Fla.: Vision Library Publications, 1994)

NF
Echo in My Soul
(New York: Dutton, 1962), memoir of African American teacher/activist affiliated with Highlander Center in Monteagle, Tenn.

P
What a Light Thing, This Stone: Poems
(Abingdon, Va.: Sow's Ear Press, 1999)

P
Weather of the House
(Abingdon, Va.: Sow's Ear Press, 1994)

YA
Where the Lilies Bloom
(New York: Harper & Row, 1969)

F
The Handywoman Stories
(Athens, Ohio: Swallow Press/Ohio University Press, 2002)

P
Take One Blood Red Rose
(Cambridge, Mass.: West End Press, 1978)

P
A Cave and a Cracker
(Georgetown, Ky., 1996)

P
Blackberry Tea
(Pikeville, Ky., 1988)

F
The Law of the Dead
(New York: Ivy Books, Ballantine, 1999)

F
The Law of Revenge
(New York: Ivy Books, Ballantine, 1997)

P
Province of Fire
(Oak Ridge, Tenn: Iris Press, 1998)

P
Food for the Winter
(Purdue Univ. Press, 1990)

F
The Power and the Glory
(New York: AL. Burt Co, 1910, rpt. 2003)

YA
Soft Rain: A Story of the Cherokee Trail Tears
(New York: Bantam, 1998)

P
Swing Your Mountain Gal: Sketches of Life in the Southern Highlands
, with illustrations by the author (Boston & New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1934)

YA
Good-Bye and Keep Cold
(Orchard/Watts, 1987)

NF
Creeker: A Woman's Journey
(Lexington: Univ. Press of Kentucky, 1999), memoir of Eastern Kentucky native

NF
Songs of Life and Grace
(Lexington: Univ. Press of Kentucky, 2003)

SR
Hard-Hitting Songs for Hard-Hit People
(Rounder 0126)

SR
By the Sweat of My Brow
(Rounder 0200)

SR
It's Hard to Tell the Singer from the Song
(Rounder 0226)

SR
A Few Old Memories
, Rounder Records, 1987

SR
Hazel Dickens and Alice Gerrard
, Rounder, 1976, 1998

SR
Coal Mining Women
, Rounder, 1997

SR
Hazel Dickens & Alice Gerrard Pioneering Women of Bluegrass
, Smithsonian/Folkways, 1965, 1996

SR
Won't You Come & Sing For Me
, 1973

SR
Who's That Knocking?
[with Alice Gerrard, Chubby Wise, and others, Verve Folkways, 1966

NF “Songs: Mannington Mine Disaster and Black Lung,”
Mountain Life & Work
47 (April 1971): 10–13.

NF “As Country as I Could Sing.”
Growin' Up Country
, ed. Jim Axelrod. Clintwood, Va.: Council of the Southern Mountains, 1973.

F
Plant Life
(New York: Delacourt, 2003)

F
Moon Women
(New York: Delacourt, 2001)

F
Carolina Mountain Breezes
(Asheville, N.C.: Miller Press, 1929)

NF
Womanist Conjure: Voodoo Narratives in the Fiction of Black Women Writers
(Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Kentucky, 2001)

YA
My Stars, It's Mrs. Gaddy
(Greenwillow Books, 1991)

YA
Journey Outside
(Viking, 1969)

YA
The Tailypo: A Ghost Story
(Clarion Books, 1977)

F
Vein of Iron
(New York: Harcourt, 1935)

F
Barren Ground
(Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1925)

F
The Battle-ground
(New York: Doubleday, 1902)

NF
A Water Snake's Year
(New York: Atheneum, 1991)

SR
Tell It on the Mountain: Appalachian Women Writers
(Whitesburg, Ky.: WMMT-FM, Appalshop, 1995)

YA
Willie Pearl
(Temple Hills, Md.: William Ruth & Co., 1990)

NF “My Name is Sarah Ogan Gunning,”
Sing Out!
25:2 (1976): 15–16.

YA
Mountain Jack Tales
(New York: Dutton, 1992)

YA
Jack and the Bean Tree
(New York: Crown, 1986)

NF
Look Back with Love: A Recollection of the Blue Ridge
, (New York: Vanguard, 1969), essays

F
Roseanna McCoy
(New York: H. Holt, 1947)

F
The Gods and One
(New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1941)

F
The Hills Step Lightly
(New York: Morrow, 1934)

F
Thursday April
(New York: Harper, 1931)