Meeting Margaret Mitchell
Yesterday I toured the Margaret Mitchell House & Museum in Atlanta. She is singularly noted in history as the author of the epic Gone With The Wind. The book was a best seller of its time, and gained even greater fame when made into a movie starring Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh. As a child I sat through the very long film a couple of times at the insistance of my parents, and have not ventured near the movie since. But now I will most likely see it again. I would like to think that Clark Gable reminds most people of myself, but for the mustache. Except, I would have probably given Scarlett another chance. The house is much like the life of Margaret Mitchell, nothing spectacular on the surface. She affectionately referred to it as "The Dump". Actually it was a home converted into several apartments. She and her husband, John Marsh, lived their entire marriage in Apt. 1. What I saw was a cramped and modest dwelling. I understand that, while Mitchell was quite rich, she never spent much on herself. Such hints that she probably did not take herself too seriously. As I looked around at the recreated setting of late-40's furniture, I thought a bit of my own home furnishings, mostly a collection of garage sale items and castoffs. It makes me smile to think my lifestyle to be similar to a great author.
Very few of the items in the apartment were authentic to Mitchell. It seems her actual estate belongs to an elderly nephew and neice, both single and both hoarding her possessions for who-knows-what. What a waste. Of course we would all want to see the authentic toaster and genuine silverware used by Margaret for breakfast, perhaps the very day she penned a vivid description of Tara. It would be a sad loss for posterity if these priceless items were seized by a nursing home.
I read with interest many of the clippings about her life. There were hints of her genius: she wrote stories as a child, and was a reporter for the Atlanta Journal. As a young woman she was apparently shy, but with a flair for the rebellious. Her first husband was a bootlegger and alcoholic. The marriage lasted a year. And one item authentic to Mitchell was a photograph hanging in her bedroom of a embellished photo of a naked woman, likely hanging there with the intended purpose to shock. She wrote Gone With The Wind in secret, ever convinced she was not a worthy author. Many years later and with great hesitation, she passed the manuscript to a prospective publisher. It was an instant hit, and made her famous and wealthy.
An interesting and seemingly juxtaposed part of the museum was a display of back-and-white photos from the civil rights movement of MLK. It seems Mitchell came into proximity with King but once, when as a ten-year-old he sang with a children's choir at the opening of the movie in Atlanta. Many criticized Mitchell and the movie for unfair portrayal of blacks. Few realized that Mitchell, although a product of the white establisment of her time, worked diligently for racial justice. She encouraged integration of the Atlanta police force. And she supported Morehouse College, personally funding the educations of over fifty students who would become medical professionals.
Perhaps Margaret Mitchell could and should have done more. She was tremendously gifted, and the timing of her life was fortuitous. Certainly she should have written more; we are the poorer because, for whatever reason, she did not. But I think I would have liked her.
As we were leaving in the church van, the group of elderly ladies were having a spirited debate about the best way to get home. Finally, one of them asked the driver-myself- what I thought. I looked her in the eye, raised an eyebrow, and replied, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a...... (everybody quietened to listen)... care. I'm just the driver."
Our next trip will be the Gone With The Wind Museum, just a few miles north of Atlanta. Should be interesting.
