Extract: "A Mass of Contradictions"

      Joel Chandler Harris was born into controversy, and become one of the nation's most popular and beloved writers during his life.
      Contradictions in his life begin with the date of his birth. Although December 9, 1848, is the generally-accepted birth date, Harris was probably born two or three years earlier. In his mid-teens, his age "suddenly"changed, to make him younger than he was; as a young journalist, he "resumed"his actual age, but hid it again as he approached middle-age until his family, friends, and the public accepted a birth date that was two--or three years later than it was.
      His mother never married; his father ran off soon after his birth. He internalized society's malicious attacks upon those with red hair, and the Irish, America's most recent wave of immigrants. He experienced the discrimination society inflicts upon those not of the majority, but at the same time he refused to believe anyone was truly unkind to him.
       He admitted to being a bad student and a prankster, but was excited by knowledge, and enjoyed reading newspapers, magazines, and books, especially the classics.
      He believed in peaceful resolution to conflict, and wanted people to love him, but as associate editor of the Atlanta Constitution, at that time one of the most respected newspapers in America, he wrote forcefully on controversial issues. He was a segregationist, but fought for racial equality, justice and integration.
       He was unafraid of controversy, or of asserting his beliefs with the masses and with publishers. He was unyielding is his opposition to mob violence and vigilante justice, but believed not only in states' rights, but that the South would solve its own problems if the federal government didn't interfere.
       He wrote extensively about the values he learned in his youth and how he missed everything about that rural isolation that introduced him to numerous kind and nurturing friends; but as he matured, he preferred to live in metropolitan cities to advance his career. He was a leader of the "New South,"but clung to the philosophy that had established the "Old South."
       Like most journalists, he harbored a love/hate relationship with his job, complained about this "grinding business,"and wished to be out of it. But, even after he made his reputation and financial security as a literary writer, he refused to give up daily newspaper journalism. Working two related jobs left him mentally and physically exhausted; to survive, he created and was finally consumed by two distinct personalities. The "other fellow,"as he called his literary self, even despised and scorned the journalist self. As Joel Chandler Harris, the writer of short stories, novels, and Uncle Remus tales, he was shy, reclusive, secretive, afraid to be in the public, afraid to let
      others know anything about his life. Even when offered huge fees, as much as ten times the annual salary of most Americans, to go on a two- or three-week speaking tour, he refused, perhaps because of his fear of the public, perhaps because of his fear he would embarrass himself by his stutter.
       As a journalist and in his private life, he was Joe Harris, still shy, self-deprecating, and modest, but relatively eloquent, especially when among friends. He enjoyed chatting with fellow journalists and the public, often took the reigns of a horsecart-streetcar so the driver could have lunch, helped create the first professional baseball league in the South, and was a city councilman.
       He refused to believe he was a folklorist, but his studies into folklore, and his writing of the tales told to him by American Blacks, thinly-disguised allegories of life, made him one of the nation's leading folklorists.
      Like most journalists, with the help of his family, he kept scrapbooks not only of most of his newspaper paragraphs, editorials, articles and essays, but also what others wrote about him. The journalist introduced the tales; the literary writer told them. Underlying both personalities was a humble and unpretentious man who lived simply, provided for the comfort of a large family, friends, and even strangers, and wanted nothing more than to beloved--and to write.
      After his death, the controversy continued as numerous critics, especially during the Civil Rights Cycle many of whom neither read nor understood the Uncle Remus tales attacked him as racist. Among their arguments were that he perpetuated the stereotype of the "happy-go-lucky darky,"that his use of American Black English in the tales is little more than a White man's racist interpretation, and that by not capitalizing the word "negro,"Harris proved he was racist.
      However, Harris's definitive character portrayal of Blacks shows a wide range of emotion and beliefs; the animal tales, themselves, are reflective of the oral tradition of numerous cultures that is often interpreted as revolutionary. Linguists have proven that the American Black English of the stories are relatively accurate interpretations, reflective of a West African language base. And it doesn't take an historian or literature critic to know that it would be wrong to ascribe racism to Harris on the basis of not capitalizing "negro,"especially since he didn't capitalize most common nouns, including those of the "democrat"and "republican"political parties and even his own beloved "south."Nevertheless, many critics mistakenly believe that by disregarding one of the nation's most important storytellers they are burying what they believe are racist depictions of Southern plantation life.