alabama possible from the alabama poverty project

Grieving- and Rejoicing – Over the State of Alabama with Wayne Flint

By Jordan Phillip

The Birmingham Weekly

Vol. 10, Issue 22

January 18, 2007

Above: Wayne Flynt

A couple of years ago, Al Franken asked Wayne Flynt, the 66-year-old dean of Alabama history, to speak on his “Air America” radio program. The show had recently debuted and Franken wanted to have Flynt on to help explain why Southerners were so peculiarly, well, Southern.

Flynt was told to be ready at 12:30 p.m. When Franken called at 11:30 a.m. – forgetting about the hour’s difference between Eastern and Central Time – Flynt told him: “That’s the first problem you’ve got. You don’t even know what time it is in Alabama!”

No halfness

Franken had one thing right at least. If you want to understand Alabama, Wayne Flynt is the man to ask.

Flynt may be one of the sharpest, most vociferous critics of Alabama’s political, racial and social justice failings, but this state has probably never had such a determined champion of its culture, either. A storyteller at heart, Flynt begins most of his classes and lectures with a simple story, or a brief history of a song or piece of literature. If Flynt is speaking, there is sure to be a crowd gathered to hear him.

During five decades of public service as a professor, activist, historian and public speaker, Flynt has been a frequent critic of groups such as the Alabama Farmers Federation (ALFA), his own Auburn University’s board of trustees and, well, just about any closed-minded politician in Montgomery. He is also an ordained Baptist minister who led voting drives in Homewood’s black Rosedale community in the 1960s and advocates reforming the state’s Constitution today.

Along with Harvey Jackson III and William Stewart, Flynt is considered one of the foremost authorities on all things Alabama, writing voluminous works with a common man’s touch. Flynt has written a dozen books on the state’s poor, its African- Americans, its women, its artists and authors, its religious reformers. Pretty much any ordinary group of people who have been overlooked by most everybody else.

In the preface to his 2004 tome, Alabama in the Twentieth Century, Flynt fairly well summarized in one tidy paragraph both his frustrations and his high expectations for the state of Alabama:

“Some will say I spend too much time on the negative and not enough on the posit- ive, that my historical glass seems perpetually half-empty rather than half-full. To me, the fullness or emptiness is of less interest than the halfness. Why does a state with so much human and natural potential settle so often for mediocrity? Why are Alabamians’ expectations so low when excellence is so often within their grasp? The incidence of world-class performance in so many spheres of life makes more poignant the persistent waste and inefficiency and backwardness of so much of Alabama’s collective life.”

This past year, 11 of Flynt’s former students and academic contemporaries compiled History and Hope in the Heart of Dixie: Scholarship, Activism and Wayne Flynt in the Modern South. The book features a mix of essays written about Flynt with art- icles written on subjects that Flynt has focused on throughout his career – politics, culture, race and religion.

“It used to be customary in history circles to do what’s called a festschrift,” says Glenn Feldman, co-editor of the book and an associate professor at UAB’s Center for Labor Education and Research. “It’s a German word that really means a happy writing, a celebration.”

The practice is not as popular today, especially with the loss of so many academic, university-run publishing houses. Co-editors Feldman, Richard Starnes and Gordon E. Harvey, however, were able to assemble the collection and have the University of Alabama Press publish the book.

“Almost all of us did our undergraduate or graduate work under Flynt and that really shaped us and influenced us in so many ways,” Feldman says. “All of us have gone into areas of study that were especially important to him, so that is a big testament to what he meant to us.”

This Monday, Jan. 22, Alabama Booksmith is hosting a “Wayne Flynt Celebration” that will include many of the book’s contributors, singer-songwriter Kate Campbell and Flynt. The free event begins at 4 p.m. And if you want to know what Flynt thinks about a particular subject, well, just ask him.

On the historian’s craft

Weekly: Is it difficult sometimes when you’re writing about the past to use today’s morality when writing about that?

Flynt: Absolutely. I think the historian always tries to think about what was the set of values in your own time, not necessarily what is the set of values in my time. And I think that’s always a problem. As is the question of subjectivity versus objectivity…

The completely outside observer who has never been a participant will, I think, have more objectivity, but less insight because he is not a participant. In a way, it’s kind of like Fred Shuttlesworth and Martin Luther King sitting at the table planning out strategy. Shuttlesworth had to live in Birmingham so he’s not willing to compromise or accommodate. King, who could take off and go to Atlanta when it’s all over, is willing to cut a deal and leave things half-solved. That’s pretty much like historians.

Do you still see your roles as an author and as an activist as two completely separate roles?

Yes, I really do. As I try to tell people in speeches all over the country, the role of an activist is actually not a typical scholarly role. The reason for that is it takes a huge amount of time for one thing. Temperamentally, most historians and academics are just not prepared for that. They don’t like controversy…

Temperamentally, I’m just willing to do that, and I like doing that. I particularly like doing public speaking. I like writing for a popular audience rather than an academic audience. I like reporters. I like TV people. I like communications. I went to college on a debate scholarship, so I really paid my way through college arguing public policy. And I really haven’t changed much since then I was a debater at Anniston High School in the 1950s debating things like Brown v. Board, foreign aid and the Supreme Court – those types of contemporary topics.

Have you changed your mind on issues much over the years?

Oh yes, sure. I was state chairman of College Youth for Nixon Lodge in 1960. [Laughs] I’m sure that probably most people who think of me as a flaming liberal would not think of me as a Republican in 1960 trying to break the stranglehold of the Democratic Party on the state, which I thought then – and still think – was a bad thing. I don’t ever think a one-party state is any good. I think that probably I would describe myself as a moderate politically, and when either party goes too far right or too far left, I tend to go with the other party.

On storytelling

Weekly: Almost every time I’ve heard you speak, you begin with “A Story,” and then there’s a pause, and then there’s a story. But there’s always that pregnant pause.

Flynt: [Laughs] You’ve got it.

Is your storytelling style something that you’ve honed over the years or is that something that’s come intuitively to you as the writing does?

My father was a great Appalachian storyteller. People would just be enthralled by his stories, and I thought “that’s the way you ought to write, that’s the way you ought to speak.” Typically now, I’ll begin everything with a story. And, yes, I’ll even begin by saying, “let me tell you a story,” or “let me begin with a story.” Yes, I do that.

How do you get more people interested in learning about the history of the state and making it relevant to today?

If you teach history as the human experience, as the collective experience of all people – for example, if you’re interested in engineering, there’s a history of engineering; if you’re interested in space, there’s a history of space. There are biographies of Neil Armstrong to be written and of Gus Grissom to be written. There are histories of sport, anything to be written. So, to say you don’t like history is to say you don’t like your own stories and experiences – because that’s what history is. It’s the history of all the people who have ever lived, including you.

History is partly to blame for that. For a long time it was his-story, the story of males who triumphed. It was the story of elites and powers and kings and queens and presidents and congresses and millionaires and businessmen. It certainly wasn’t the story of sharecroppers and it certainly wasn’t the story of coal miners, and those people always thought they didn’t have stories worth telling and they didn’t matter.

But they usually have the best stories.

That’s right. So, that’s what I’ve tried to spend my entire career doing by writing the stories of ordinary people, rather than extraordinary people.

On religion

Weekly: You’ve mentioned the Alabama Baptists book. What do you see the next chapter – if I can get a prediction here – on Baptists in Alabama, based on what you have written about what’s happened already.

Flynt: That’s an interesting question. They have certainly become less inclusive, more mean-spirited, more intolerant, more rigid, [Laughs] I don’t like Baptists nearly as much as when I was growing up. They were a kinder people, gentler people. Since the ’60s, I think they’ve become a much more closed-minded people.

As for the future, I don’t think historians should ever speculate very much about the future. I think the story is still unwritten. The final chapters still have to be written. But, right now, I just don’t identify with Southern Baptists anymore. They’re not telling us what they’re for. They’re basically just telling us what they’re against. And I don’t much identify with that. But, once upon a time, I loved them, and will go to my grave a Baptist philosophically and theologically. I may not be a member of a Baptist church at that time, but in my commitment to the priesthood of the believer, separation of church and state and the autonomy of local churches, individualism and independence – all those things that are pretty important to the Southern story and the Baptist story.

Have you done more grieving or more rejoicing over the state of Alabama?

It depends on the topic. In terms of race, politics, the Constitution, the economy, I’ve probably done more grieving. In terms of religion, the culture, African-American life, women, military life, I’d say I’ve probably done more rejoicing. Of those 11 chapters in Alabama in the Twentieth Century, I’d say about half of them I’m tremendously proud of what the state has done, even though there are areas that I would certainly not agree with what’s been done. But, overall, I’d be satisfied with where the state’s been. The other half of those chapters, I feel like we’ve really betrayed our people over the years and betrayed our best instincts.

On Harper Lee & Alabama’s perpetual promise

Weekly: I was able to go when you were in town speaking at the Birmingham Pledge Award presentation for Harper Lee. You remain dose to her, of course. How much does her legacy mean to Alabama?

Flynt: Tremendous. In fact, I came back to Alabama largely because, at a period when I was largely disillusioned with the state – and I’m referring to September 1963 and the Sixteenth Street bombing, particularly, and everything else happening in Birmingham and at the University of Alabama, and with George Wallace standing in the school door, and Lee v. Macon and the resistance to desegregation of public schools – 1961 to 1965 was just not a good time for Alabama and there were very few academics who left the state and lusted to come back and spend the rest of their lives.

I certainly remember telling my wife the week of the Sixteenth Street bombing that I was not sure where we would end up [Flynt was in school at Florida State at the time], but I was absolutely certain that we would not come back to Alabama. [Laughs] You have to watch out for those resolutions.

Anyways, about that time, I started reading To Kill A Mockingbird. After I finished, I thought, “Good Lord, what have I missed here? How could somebody from Monroeville, Alabama, have written that book?” So, yes, many times I have told her [Lee], that I would not have come back to this state if I had not read that book and been so persuaded by the beauty of the book, the spirit of the book and the attitudes of the book. There’s no questioning that Nelle Lee had a major role in my coming back.

And probably in keeping some people here today.

Oh, I don’t doubt it. You know, one of the things we have to do if Alabama is ever going to be a better state is we have to make people want to stay here, the people who are going to make a difference – not just the people who stay here because they think it’s conservative and they think it’s low-tax – but the people who want to stay here because they want it to change and be better. The key to that is to help them identify with people who perceive them – people who have made a difference. I think about Hugo Black, Virginia Durr, Nell Lee. The best way to get people to experience pride in the state is through its culture. You’re not going to read about Alabama politics and the Constitution of 1901 and poverty and the educational system and …

Come away swelling with pride?

Yeah, and come away from those stories by saying, “Hey, didn’t we do a great job?

Aren’t we a great people?” But if you read about Alabama art, Alabama religion, Alabama’s military experience – then you walk away from that thinking, “you know, this isn’t a bad state, this is a state full of good people.” I think the real key to Alabama’s future is its ability to retain those good people by making them proud of their culture. If nothing else, if they can’t be proud of anything else, they can certainly be proud of their culture.

Civil duty

While some people interpreted Alabama in the Twentieth Century as Flynt’s farewell address, it’s worth noting that he already has two other books in the works. One is on religion in the South and will include articles Flynt has written on South- ern religion since the 1960s. The other is a memoir that will reveal many of the stories Flynt has collected and kept to himself over the years – politicians, preachers and Auburn trustees beware.

Even though Flynt retired from Auburn University in 2005 after 40 years teaching at Samford and Auburn, he still speaks publicly as often as his research and writ- ing allows. A co-founder of the Alabama Poverty Project and Sowing Seeds of Hope, he most recently assumed the title of editor-in-chief of the online Encyclopedia of Alabama. Last winter, Flynt taught a mini-course in Birmingham on Alabama his- tory. This winter, he’s teaching a mini-course on Alabama music and literature. There are two classes remaining in the course, to be held Jan. 22 & 29 at Samford.

In his essay contribution to History & Hope, the late journalist Bailey Thomson asks, “What is it about [Flynt's] rhetoric that draws listeners? What makes his messages compelling? The word authenticity comes to mind. He does not command the center stage through his appearance. He has the gaunt look of his hill-country forebears, accentuated by his graying hair and searching eyes. His voice seldom varies in pitch or intensity. He docs not pound the podium. Nor does he flash images upon a screen. Typically, he reads from yellow legal pages.

“As if to defy further the speechmaker’s art, Flynt draws his evidence and aphorisms from history. He shares the experiences of obscure people and places, weaving a common bond between then and now.”

Flynt may enjoy writing about ordinary Alabamians, but it’s easy to see that well- known folks respect the man, as well. During last year’s Alabama history course, figures such as Jim Hennett, Marsha Folsom, Odessa Woolfolk and Kathryn Tucker Windham came and spoke during his classes. Even more impressive was the cast of politicians, civic leaders and writers who filled the seats and paid the class fee just to listen.

At a time in which political divisiveness precludes even the most benign of subjects from being discussed rationally, and religion is widely used as a weapon, Flynt stands out as a rare, civil voice – a kind of collective conscience for many Alabamians.

“For me, it’s the idea that this ordained minister is able to take his religious piety and focus more on helping society progress and help improve people, rather than judging their moral deficiencies,” says Flynt’s former student, Glenn Feldman. “That comes through when he’s talking about any topic – race, religion, social justice – and it reminds you of what religion could be, and should be. So often you get the opposite of that, but with Flynt, you never do. It’s refreshing to see that.”

[sidebars]

LISTENING TO WAYNE FLYNT TALK ABOUT ALABAMA POLITICS, its Constitution, poverty, racial problems and its educational system isn’t going to make your heart swell with pride – but listening to him talk about Alabama music, literature, religion and art just might.

IF YOU’RE GLAD WAYNE FLYNT’S AROUND, thank Harper Lee. Without To Kill A Mocking- bird, Flynt might never have decided to stick with Alabama.